Stones of Nul

Chapters 1 – 6d

 

 

Chapter 1

Buffeted by forces of an unknown origin, the small planet’s axis was skewed ever so slightly.  Although the blast was not enough to change its orbit or wrench it free of the huge sun’s gravitational pull, the consequence has been a dramatic change in the tiny world’s climate.  Where did this come from?

The gods called a meeting.  They could not have foreseen this happening because none of them created it.  Usually, one of them would write a memo before doing something like this.

“Are we all here?” a booming voice echoed as if through time itself.

“Yes, I called roll,” a rather sarcastic feminine voice answered.

“Then I call this meeting to order,” the booming voice responded.  “Will the secretary please read the minutes from the last meeting.”

“Respectfully,” another voice piped in, “if we do that it will waste valuable time.  The last meeting was two years long.”

“Quite right.  Do I hear a motion to dispense with the reading of the minutes?”

“I move to forgo the reading of last meeting’s minutes.”

            “ Do I hear a second?”

            “ I second the motion.”

            “ Fine.  All those in favor say aye.”

            “Aye.”

            “Opposed?”

            “Aye.”

            “Abstain?”

            “I abstain.”

“Right.  We have a split decision again.”

And with that the three gods started their usual bickering:

“Nothing gets done around here.”

“Why did you buy a pound cake again?”

“I wouldn’t worry about the pound cake but the pounds on your thighs.”

It wasn’t a pretty sight.  Three grown gods making fun of each other’s waistlines and such.  Gods can be assholes some times.  Anyway, as they taunted, the itsy planet continued on its disastrous course unheeded by the very gods the people of the planet were praying to.

Villages were linked to other villages by dirt roads.  Each village looked like the one before it, small houses made of logs with thatched roofs.  Inns were constructed in the same manner, and there was always an inn if the village was on the way to a city.  Also, they were a place for men to meet and tell stories of better times.  After a hard day in the fields, inns served hot meals and strong drink.

“The crops are dying, Poppa.”

“Yes, my daughter, the sun is too strong.  He shrivels up the clouds before they have a chance to drop their water.”

The cities, on the other hand, had buildings made of stone.  The highest was usually about three stories.  It’s rumored that in a faraway land they have a building even bigger than that, but that’s another story.

“Come on over here darling and give your man a big kiss!”

“ If you come near me with that thing I’ll cut it off!  It’s too damn hot to be fooling around.  Why don’t you go jump in a lake?”

Which is where we got that phrase, but that’s another story.

Overall, this world mirrored our own.  Most of it was wilderness, with humans sprinkled in here and there for good measure.  Most people congregated along waterways.

 “The river is breaking over the levee we better make for higher ground.”

“But honey, what about our home?”

“I’ll build us another one.  You get the children ready, and I’ll pack the horses.”

There was one piece of land that escaped any variation in climate.  The island was situated so that when the wee planet’s orbit changed its position didn’t.  The island of Mobley was a vacation spot for the idle rich and those on holiday.

Another strange thing about this infinitesimal planet is that the population never exceeded, nor was less than, a certain number.  This is because everyone that died was reborn after 20 years.  It was called the rebirth cycle.  It was worked out by the gods in a particularly grueling meeting that lasted ten thousand years, give or take a few thousand.  They decided that this would be easier than deciding who lives and who dies, and how long each person would live.  Thus it gave them time to do more productive things like contemplating how to pass a camel through the eye of a needle.  Dolts!  Of course, they did put certain limitations on the memory of the people.

They voted that it should be harder for men than women to remember their pasts.  This was passed by a vote of two to one.  The belief being that women have to suffer the burden of giving birth; therefore, they should not have to labor again to recall their previous lives.  Men, on the other hand, would find it physically draining.

 They debated who should remember their past lives.  While they agreed that not everyone should be able to recall an earlier life, they assumed that little occasional insights wouldn’t hurt anyone.  On the contrary, the gods thought it amusing that by giving most of the people these brief erratic insights they could cause two things to happen: some people would believe that they had an actual experience; other people would think nothing of it, and consider the other people crazy.  They had great fun with that!

 The gods asked, “How many past lives they could remember, should the person come back as the same gender, the same species, or as a member of the same family?"  This was especially significant if you were part of Singrue the Magnificent’s family, as he is a very loud fat man with extremely hairy ears and a panache for picking his nose in public.  All of these other questions were considered during this lengthy meeting, and someone made the motion to put all of the suggestions to a vote and they were passed.  But, none of the gods are certain as to who voted for what, or even why or how.  For that matter, they never will, for the minutes of that meeting are stored in billions of shoe boxes that are stuffed under one of their beds.  Nobody dares open them because they might find something wrong, and they would have to do the whole thing over again.  A nasty bit of business that, Eh?

While the gods where doing what they do, down on that unimportant, puny planet, an ugly green monster reared its head.  No, not jealousy!  It's named Dargle.  Well the name suits it just fine.  And while the gods fumbled through their meeting, this creature was planning how he would take over the vulnerable world.            

 

 

Chapter 2

 

            Dargle was as pretty as monsters can be, if only to their mothers.  The 12-foot, 2500-pound, broad-shouldered beast was a rock monster-- not that he didn’t enjoy other types of music.  He was a rock monster because that is what he ate.  Rocks.

Like his entire race, he had the two horns on the top of his head that acted like antennae in the dark.  He had a sinister countenance that sat on a thick neck, and in turn connected to broad, muscular shoulders, on an equally expansive and muscled chest.  This tapered down to a rather svelte washboard mid section moored to two massive legs.  He also had his forebear’s green, slimy skin.

You see, rock eaters have very sensitive skin; it is covered in a film not unlike that of a slug.  It is this gook that protects the monsters.  The goo acts like an adhesive.  As the monster breaks the rocks to eat or make tunnels (the latter is their primary source of income), the smaller pieces stick to the molasses-like stuff and bind the rock into a sort of rubberized cement.  This gives them a protective coat and still enables them to move freely.  The concrete covering hides all of their body with the exception of their face, which they use to break the rock.  The soles of their feet are also bare which is why you don’t see them at the beach in the summer.

The only things Dargle didn’t have were his relatives.  He was the last of his race.

 Dargle’s legacy, his only solace, was his ability to control three of the four elements.  Through magic, air, fire, and water became his weapons.  With the mastery of these elements, Dargle could whip up a whirlwind, a fireball, or a tidal wave. 

 As he sat under a spreading chestnut tree and sulked about his loneliness, he pondered whether to frighten an old lady or chew some rocks.  Just then, a bird flew down from the sky and landed on one of the horns of the enormous one’s head.  This perturbed His Ugliness to no end.  He tried shaking the bird from its perch with a ripple of his thick neck muscles.  The bird held fast.  He swung one of his mutton-sized fists at the bird, but it barely fluttered its wings.  The bird was there to deliver a message from something even more hideous than Dargle, so this pathetic display hardly ruffled the bird’s feathers.  Then the extremely ugly one spoke.

            “You may be too small to fill one of the many cavities in my teeth, but if you sit on my horn much longer I’ll use your beak as a tooth pick.”

            “My, you would think I weighed a ton the way you carry on.  What a bully you are!  If you’re going to be that way about it I’ll treat you like the statue that you are and be gone.  Hell, I don’t get paid enough to take this abuse from you or anybody else for that matter.  You think I’m doing this for my health?”

            Dargle was a shrewd cookie.  He picked up on the fact that this bird might be a messenger and might have some valuable information.

            “I am a brute.  Where are my manners?  You must have traveled far and must be very weary.  By all means take perch on my horn as long as you like,” said Dargle.

            The bird just preened its feathers as if to say, “That’s more like it.”

            “Would you care for a chestnut?"  Dargle asked, like any good host would.

            “No thank you,” the bird responded.  “They give me a terrible case of the winds.”

            “Well, if there is anything I can get you please feel free to ask,” his Ugliness added with a crooked smile.

            “You are a lot nicer than I thought you’d be considering the company you keep.  They seem like a rather nefarious bunch.  All that cloak and dagger stuff.  Telling me to hide at a safe distance and yell to you, ‘Hey, the idiots above are napping.  Now’s the time to make your move!'  Very mysterious stuff.  What’s this about anyway?  Is the apartment above yours becoming vacant?”

            Suddenly, Dargle realized what the bird had just told him.  Shocked he replied, “Yes, moving at the end of the month.  Nice space, lots of closets.  Tell me, did they say anything else?”

“No, not that I can remember anyway.”

“They didn’t say anything else?  Anything at all?”

“They did say something….  Something about a poker hand.  I don’t think they know how to play.  I guess it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Please tell me, I must know.”

“It didn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me!”

“It’s pure rubbish.  It’s not good advice, take it from me, I know how to play cards.  I’d lose my seed playing a hand the way they want you to!”

“Tell me or I’ll dig a tunnel with you strapped to my forehead!”

“Oh, back to that tone are we?  I’m just trying to be helpful.  Maybe I should leave.”

And with that Dargle let out a horrible howl that caused a small whirlwind to appear at the top of the chestnut tree.  Chestnuts were flying everywhere as the wind whipped them from the tree.  The bird was clinging to Dargle’s horn with all his might so as not to be sucked into the vortex.  Dargle bellowed above the scream of the wind.

“Tell me or I’ll pluck you clean, you little cluck.”

…Or something like that.  It was hard to hear him over all that noise.  With no other choice but to answer, the bird screeched at the top of his lungs.

“O.K! '  Take half of the pair.'  That’s what they said.  But mind you, if you do, you’ll be a loser.  I wouldn’t risk any millet on that hand.”

Dargle fell to the ground with a heavy thud.  The wind died down, and he let loose a most loathsome sound.  He laughed.  This was not the belly laugh of the fat man who wears red pants and bears presents.  No, this vitriolic sound withered the leaves on the tree and stripped the bark off the trunk.  The sound could only be compared to every passenger on a ship screaming as one when they realize they’re having fish for dinner for the umpteenth time.

The bird, flying for his life, took off for the sky as the winds died down.  The roar of Dargle’s laugh singed his feathers as he made haste never to be seen again in that part of the world.

The monster was putting on a putrid display, rolling around on the dead grass, coughing-up chunks of phlegm-covered rock, and crying tears of contempt fouling the earth beneath him.  So hearty a time Dargle had that he soon fell asleep from the effort of trying to make a happy sound.  

 

 

Chapter 3              

 

            A brown haired boy with piercing hazel eyes was sitting on a boulder near the shore of a small stream.  His jaw was set as he concentrated on lifting a fish out of the rushing waters.  He didn’t use a pole; he just pointed his finger at the fish.  A slight smile broke across the boy’s face as, one by one, he lifted them out of the water moving them left, right, and by turning his thumb downwards returned them safely to the water.  Simple, once you know the trick.  He tried to lift a particularly large fish from the stream, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.  He pointed above the fish and it rose higher into the air.  The boy struggled to keep focused.

            A blue and gray blur plummeted from the sky and landed in the stream a dozen yards in front of the boy.  Steam rose from the spot where the blur had hit the water.

            Startled, the boy moved quickly, putting his hands on the rock beneath him to push himself up, momentarily forgetting the large fish now thirty feet in the air.  His concentration broken and his aim ignored, the fish slammed down to the planet's surface with a thud.

            “I guess that’s dinner,” he said wistfully.

His attention was once again drawn to the blur that struck the water.  He heard a strange noise and saw splashing in the distance.  He raced down the bank to see what had happened.  The boy pointed his finger into the middle of the splashing and searched with his mind to locate the source.  His mind snagged a solid object, and he began to levitate it out of the stream.

“Please don’t lose your focus like you did with that fish.  I don’t think I’d make a decent snack.”

Feeling a little bit embarrassed and startled, the boy’s mental grip on the thing started to weaken.  “Another crack like that and I'll let you go just for satisfaction!  Stay still!"  The boy doubled his concentration and brought what looked like a bird safely to shore.  “You look like a refugee from a barbecue.”

The bird, realizing his physical state, thrust his burnt, wet wings up and squawked, “I’m still in better shape than the fish.”

“Maybe you’d like to be back in the middle of the stream.  You shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Bowing, the bird said, “I am sorry.  Please forgive me, Your Equiness, but I feel like a fish out of water.”

“You don’t know with whom you’re trifling...” The boy wrinkled his nose at the stench emanating from the bird.  “I know that smell,” he said, as a fire slowly began to blaze in his eyes.

“Yes, yes you mentioned the ‘barbecue’ already.  My, but you are short on wit, even for a young wizard.”

The boy was no longer listening.  His eyes were bright with anger, and his face strained into a grimace, but he was no longer there.  His mind raced.  He saw a familiar scene in his mind's eye, but he couldn’t place it.

A man dressed for battle argues with an older man.  The older man warns the younger, “You cannot defeat him alone ... You must wait for the sign!  You need the chosen pair.”

“You yourself said I was the strongest wizard to come along in centuries.  I have the knowledge, the power, and the will to defeat it.  You have waited too long to attack.  You have grown old.  I must strike while the iron is hot, lest I grow feeble like you."  The young man swaggers defiantly away from the old man.

 He enters a cave seeking his destiny.  He travels for days through the labyrinth of tunnels that cut through an active volcano.  What he seeks, he will find at the heart of the mountain.  The wizard is driven by two motivating circumstances: a desire to rid the land of a bad seed, and the belief that he is the only one who can do the job.  He slowly closes in on the object of his anger.  The temperature and sickening scent become his guide.  Feeling hungry, tired, and weak his head swims and belly contracts from the stench that fills the passages.  He is nearing the source of the foul air.  The heat and stench almost drive him to his knees.  He rounds a bend to find a huge figure silhouetted against a wall of flames.  His eyes are squinting from the brilliant light and the sulfuric stench; he struggles to make out the figure clearly.  He wipes the tears from his eyes, and shields them from the searing heat as he pushes closer to the roar of the mountain’s cauldron.

 The huge figure is standing with its back to the approaching danger.  It can’t hear or see the man who is about to engage it in a battle to the death.  The wizard readies his staff to volley the first assault.  The enormous shape has all its focus on the liquid stone in front of it.  As the man fights to get nearer to his target he can now make out a massive figure that seems to double in size with every step.  It is a rock monster!  Just as the wizard’s arm comes up for the surprise attack, the monster’s horns send a faint signal that he is not alone.  The monster whirls suddenly and throws a ball of molten rock in the direction of this seemingly minor disturbance.  The wizard counters it with a rain spell.  The rock cools abruptly and shatters.  Shocked that a wizard would attack it in its own den, the monster is momentarily caught off guard.  Then he recognizes this young upstart.

“You’ve grown,” the monster says to the wizard.

“You’ve gotten old,” replies the wizard.

“I suppose you’re here to murder me in my own home, Silstan?”

“I think murder is too harsh a word.  Suffice it to say, I intend to put you out of everyone’s misery.”

“You pathetic excuse for a magician, you don’t have what it takes.  Your little parlor tricks are of no significance.  I will crush you with my bare hands and use your skull as a doorstop.”

“I sense that you hesitate; he who hesitates is lost; you’ve already lost, Dargle.”

Dargle throws back his head and with a terrifying howl lets loose a wave of magma that threatens to turn Silstan into a cinder.  The wizard, caught off guard by the magnitude of Dargle’s power, has only split seconds to respond.  Silstan barely has time to weave, and wrap himself in a magical, protective cocoon before the magma buries him in a sarcophagus of slow cooling rock.  The world is black as pitch.  Only the racing sound of his heart beating and his rapid breathing assure him he is still alive.

The face of the old man appears before the wizard.  “I told you it was too soon.  Next time wait for the sign.  The color of the sky and clouds will mix as one and fall from the heavens.  When the messenger of the Celestial Fathers arrives you must seek the chosen pair."  With that the countenance of the man faded, but he added, “Try to be nicer to him than you were to me, you arrogant little shit.”

Someone was speaking to him, but he couldn’t make out all of the words.  Rightly so.

“I’m ... mean ... insult ... took it ... harder ... I expected,” the voice said.

Silstan realized his eyes were closed tight; he feared he was entombed in a small mountain of rock.  He opened one eye and saw a disheveled bird fanning his face with burnt wings.  He wiped the cold sweat from his brow.  “Get off of me you poor excuse for a feather duster!”

            “Oh sure, yell at me!  All I’ve done is watch over you while you lie there sleeping off the effects of some wild herb no doubt.  And this is the thanks I get?”

            “How long have I been out?"  Silstan asked, apologetically.

            “Long enough.  Are you feeling better now?”

            “Yes, but I can’t shake the effects of the dream I’ve had.”

            “Well, you were talking up a blue streak.  I’m glad your feeling O.K. I’ve got to go now,” the bird nervously replied.

            “What was I talking about in my sleep?”

            “Oh nothing, gibberish, ah, this and that, you know,” as he anxiously started to test his badly burnt wings for flight.

            “I don’t think you’ll get far on those,” Silstan said, eyeing the bird pensively.  “What’s your hurry, my not so fine feathered friend?  You seem to be in a rush to get as far away from me as possible.  Was it something I said while I was passed out?"  The boy wizard stared at the bird as if he was looking into the bird’s brain and reading its every thought.  His bright hazel eyes flickered with the glint of the setting sun.  The bird began to squirm under the wizard’s scrutiny.

            “Something you said!  Look, I just fell out of the sky like a hot turd dropped out of a passing wagon, and you drop to the ground in some kind of swami trance screaming out that bastard’s name.  You have the balls to ask me if it was something you said, you arrogant little shit?"  At this, the wizard’s eyes began to sparkle, which scared the hell out of the bird.  “Oh no, not again!  No more, please!”

            The boy picked the bird up and smiled.  “I had no idea.”

            “Are you feeling all right?  Maybe you hit your head too hard when you went into La La land.”

            “I feel right as rain!  My mind is as clear as a mountain stream!  You have purified my soul!  You are the celestial messenger, the color of the sky and clouds that fell from the heavens!  Together we will find the chosen pair and defeat Dargle!”

            “I don’t want to rain on your parade little boy, but you can’t even lift a fish out of the water without dropping it to its death.  I suppose you plan to do the same to Dargle?  You better start eating your vegetables and lifting something heavier than fish.”

            The young wizard looked at himself in some water that had pooled by the side of the stream.  “I’m learning fast.  Besides you can’t fly yet anyway, so way don’t you accompany me until you’re able to get on by yourself?”

            The bird thought about the young wizard’s offer.  “This is probably a mistake, but I’ll take my chances.  God knows, at least I know what’s for dinner.”

            The bird was right.  That night they sat by the fire, and ate fish while the boy made plans for their journey.

 

 

CHAPTER 4

 

            Morning was breaking.  The sun shown down on the young wizard and fried bird, warming the makeshift sleeping bag they inhabited.  It would be another steaming hot day.

All was peaceful.  The boy was sleeping with one arm over the bird like a mother hen protecting her young.  The sounds of the gurgling stream and the gentle winds through the trees were whispering their natural lullabies.  The bird woke first, stretching his sizzled wings and preening his feathers as he hopped atop the sleeping wizard.

            This bothered the boy, since wizards are notoriously late sleepers.  This young wizard was very tired and age had nothing to do with that.  So as the bird performed its daily hygiene on top of the boy, it woke the sleeping wizard.  Everybody knows the saying, “Let sleeping dogs and wizards lie.”

            “Do you mind doing that somewhere else?"  The wizard asked with a scowl.

            “Oh, but I am sorry.  Did I wake you?  I was just cleaning up before breakfast.  By the way what’s for breakfast?"  The bird asked in a matter of fact kind of way.

            “How should I know what you are going to eat?  Go dig up some worms or something.  Just leave me alone until noon,” he said as he tugged the material of the bag around and up over his head to block out the rising sun’s rays.

            The bird cocked an eye at the youngster.  “I guess I’ll be leaving you then.  I thought you were going to take care of me in return for my traveling with you, but if I have to fend for myself, I may as well go and visit my mother.  At least she’ll make me a nice cup of soup.”

            The sleeping bag became taut.

            “I know I haven’t called her lately.  Which is why I’m sure she’ll be glad to see her poor sick son.  Yes, I imagine that we’ll have lots to talk about while I’m convalescing.”

            The sleeping bag started trembling.

            “You know, I bet the rest of my family will be so excited to see me that they’ll throw me a get well party.”

            The sleeping bag went limp.  “I’d like to throw you back in the lake!”

            “If that’s the way you’re going to be, I’ll take off for home right now,” the bird said, then added, “you little shit!”

            The sleeping bag began smoldering.  “All right!  I’ll get you breakfast, you poor excuse for pillow filling.  Just let me have a cup of coffee."  Then he added under his breath, “This getting up for the bird, sucks!"  Which is how we got the expression “Getting up early is for the birds,” but that is another story.  That said, the boy rummaged around in his bag for a pot, cup, spoon, and the rest of the fixings for his morning pick-me-up.  “If you want your breakfast you had better find me some kindling for a fire so I can make my coffee,” the boy sharply.

            “Twigs, do I know twigs,” said the bird.  He hopped off at a pace to collect the firewood.

 With the snap of his fingers, the wizard set the twigs, the bird had collected, a blaze.

            After a piping hot, extra strong cup of coffee the boy turns to the bird and says, “Okay!  You want breakfast.  Right!?"  He points his finger at a boulder and mentally sees the rock lifting into the air; the stone obeys the wizard’s command and rises from the ground.  “There you go; fresh creepy crawlies.  Get’em while they’re hot!”

            “If you think I’m going to stand under that boulder while you hold it over my head you’re nuts!  I saw what you did to that fish, remember?”

            “Well you’re just going to have to trust me or starve.”

            The bird would have frowned if it could.  Instead, it then threw its wings into the air and slowly hopped beneath the big rock to get its breakfast, keeping one eye on the rock and one on the wizard.  “You’ll let me know if you start getting tired, won’t you?  I mean, you wouldn’t let that stone crush me, you need me.  Right?”

            The wizard let a little cough slip while the bird was feasting on the banquet of grubs and worms.

            “Hey!"  The bird yelled as he jumped from under the wavering stone.

            The wizard just chuckled.  He was having a little fun at the bird’s expense and trying to teach it a lesson.  “Are you full yet, you vulture, or do I have to hold this all day?"  He said with a facetious grin.

            “I don’t like this one bit!"  The bird screeched as it flapped its wings in frustration.

            “Well, that makes two of us.  It seems you are as dependent on me as I am on you.  I guess we have to reach an agreement.  How about we eat breakfast when I rise?  This way you won’t have anything hanging overhead while you eat, and I won’t be in such a foul mood.  Hmm?  Doesn’t that sound fair?"  The wizard added with one of his piercing looks which cemented the deal.  “Wonderful!  We are in agreement.  I was trying to recall the direction from which you fell.  Do you remember?”

            “How could I forget.  It was from the north.”

            “Then we head north.  Let’s not dawdle.  There is a village not too far from here.  We should be there by tomorrow’s nightfall.”

            “I suppose you expect me to walk?"  The bird blurted as the wizard set off to the North.

            “Right.  I Almost forgot that.  Up on my shoulder then."  The wizard said as he picked the bird up and placed it on his shoulder.

            “Easy!"  The bird said, “I’m not a loaf of bread.  I’m still healing, you graceless clod!  You better be more careful with me, because if I die, you won’t know where to go.  I may not be able to lift stone, but you need me.  So don’t you forget it!”

            The wizard just smirked and shook his head.  “I don’t think you’ll let me,” he said under his breath.

            The sun was starting to bake the surface of the dwarfish planet, and it would only get worse as the odd couple traveled.  The countryside offered little in the way of shade.  The rolling hills were covered in a very course grass with little white flowers.  While this made walking easy, it allowed the sun to beat down on the two weary travelers unmercifully.  The wizard became grumpier as they went.  The bird talked incessantly.  The boy, realizing it was almost time for lunch, decided that he needed to find a route through a wooded area if they where to journey during the day.  After the two had eaten, the wizard asked, “Are you sure you are unable to fly?”

            “If I could fly, I would have along time ago.  You’re not the best conversationalist, you know.”

            “We need to get under some shade if we are going to travel in the daytime.  I’m not totally familiar with this part of the country.  What if I lift you into the air so you could scout ahead for cover?”

            “What if you don’t.  You think I’ve forgotten about last night’s dinner?  That rock you lifted wasn’t to steady either.  No sir, you will not get me up there without my own wing power.  Not in a million years.  Not if the gods themselves came down and told me to trust you.”

            “Look, it’s for your good as well as mine.  If we continue to walk in the sun all day, we won’t get far.  Especially since the days are lasting longer now.  I promise I won’t drop you."  The wizard said with a grim face.  Then he added, “I couldn’t let my new medium be killed on its first day, could I?”

            The bird found this interesting.  “They get great benefits,” thought the bird.  “It would make my mother proud, even if he’s not much of a wizard."  “I guess he’ll learn,” the bird considered, as the boy waited for a reply.  “Okay, I’ll do it, but I want three weeks vacation every year.”

            “Done,” said the Silstan.  “Now all that’s left to make it official is your name.  What’s your name?”

            The bird looked up at the wizard embarrassed.  “Couldn’t you give me a new name?”

            “No.  It must be your given name.  What’s wrong with your name?”

            “Well it’s not really a name so much as an adjective.  If I tell you, do you promise not to laugh?”

            Curious, Silstan nodded gravely.  “You have my word.”

            “Babbler.  My flock named me Babbler."  The bird looked the wizard right in the eye, looking for even the faintest trace of mirth.

            “Babbler, by the power vested in me by the Wizard and Animal Networking Department, I proclaim that from this day on you shall be my medium.  Till death do us part.”

            “I wish you hadn’t added that last part,” said Babbler.

            “Don’t be such a worry wart.  Everything will be all right.  Now sit still, and whatever you do, don’t move around while you’re up there!"  Silstan points a finger at the bird and raises it slowly towards the afternoon sky.  “Your mother would be proud,” the boy yells as the bird drifts higher.  “Babbler, how appropriate,” he laughs to himself.

            After what seems an eternity the bird nervously reports that he sees a wooded area about seventy miles to the Northeast.  “There seems to be a river that cuts through the middle of it.”

            “Good.  We can replenish our water.  We will camp there tonight, and follow the forest as far as we can towards the village tomorrow.  We may have to build a raft to cross it because I don’t swim,” said the wizard, while he lowered the bird safely by turning his thumb earthward.

            “My feathers won’t keep the water out in their condition,” the bird agreed.              The bird hopped on the wizard's shoulder.  His mother would be proud of him he thought.  They might even have a party for him when he got back home; if he ever made it back home again.  He would get back home.  He must.

            So, as they made for the shelter of the tree’s canopy, glad that things were going well, neither of them could have expected what lay ahead.  The boy was still chuckling to himself, “Babbler, hehehehee."  The bird, thrusting out his chest as if about to burst with pride, rode on the boy's shoulder.  The thing in the woods sensed the unsuspecting duo approaching.   

 

 

Chapter 5

 

          After what seemed to be an eternity, actually 45 minutes of Babbler’s non-stop talking, the newly joined wizard and medium reached the outer edge of the woods.  Glad to be out of the oppressive heat, they sat and ate their midday meal on a fragrant leaf covered floor of the forest.  The shade the trees provided was more than well come, and the leaves they sat on kept the wet ground from soaking through.

            “The fish is a bit hard to swallow when its been dried, don’t you think?"  Asked the bird, yet he choked-down another piece.

            “It doesn’t seem to have slowed you down."  The boy answered as he took inventory of the supplies.

            “It’s as dry as a suntanned worm!  Why don’t you dig me up some nice juicy bugs?  I’m sure there are plenty in this rather wet ground.”

            “No, we don’t have time.  We have to make it to the village tonight and we still have to find a way across the river,” the boy said.  Just then there was a strange sucking sound and what sounded like someone saying “Hmmm”.  The wizard and the bird looked at each other with the same question in mind.  “Did you do that?” the boy asked.

            “I thought it was your stomach growling because I mentioned juicy bugs,” replied the bird.

            “I think we had better keep a close eye on things while we are in these woods.  I didn’t like the sound of that ‘Hmmm’.”

            “You’re the boss.  I’m just a rather small medium."  The bird having said this would have smiled if it was able, but instead hopped onto the boy’s shoulder and dug its nails into the fabric of the boy’s jerkin for dear life.

            “While I am happy to hear you say that, I wish you could remember that when I tell you to do something."  The boy said as he picked up his gear and started deeper into the forest.

            The two hiked some time before the bird realized that nature was calling.  “Please stop near that bush.  I would hate to soil the shoulder of your jacket."  The wizard quickly complied and took the opportunity to relieve himself as well.  As he buttoned up his trousers the boy heard a swishing sound as if a tap had been turned on and “tsk, tsk, tsk.”

            “Who's there?  Why don’t you show yourself?"  The boy said as he looked high and low and turned in a small circle.

            “You don’t know whom you’re fooling with,” said the bird.  He flapped his wings wishing he could fly away.  “He is a powerful wizard and he’ll turn you into something horrible if you’re not careful!”

            The wizard shoots the bird a look that says, “thanks a lot” and the bird replies “What?”

            “So much for the element of surprise!  Babbler indeed!"  The boy chastised the bird and continued looking for their invisible guest.  Finally, the young wizard spoke, “Do not be alarmed.  We are merely exhausted travelers seeking refuge from the heat of the day.  If you are the owner of this land maybe I can repay your kindness of allowing our transgression by being of some service to you.  Will you show yourself?”

            There was no answer, just an almost undetectable gurgle.  A slight breeze blew the boy’s hair in front of his face as he strained to hear a response.

            Babbler broke the long silence; “There’s no one there.  I’d be able to smell any creature on this planet.  I’d bet my beak on it!”

            The boy, being satisfied with the charred bird’s statement, started gathering his shirttails and stuffing them back into his pants.  “We’ll keep moving,” he said to no one in particular.  The boy seemed removed as they wound their way through the sparsely foliated forest.

            “You’ve been telling me your life story, but you haven’t mentioned a word about Dargle,” said the wizard during a lull in the conversation.

            “Nothing to tell really, besides the fact that he has no manners to speak of,” Babbler said with his beak in the air.

            “Why did he do that to you anyway?” said Silstan indicating the bird’s plumage.

            “It seems that the boulder brain took umbrage to my telling him how to play poker.”

            “You were playing cards with him?”

            “No, just informing him that the way his mysterious red-eyed friends wouldn’t win a hand the way they told him to play.”

            “You were playing cards with his red-eyed friends?”

            “NO!  The gods shortchanged you in the brain department, didn’t they?  I was sent by his friends; though, I can’t say I’d call them that.  I mean if someone I knew told me to do something like that, I wouldn’t consider him or her my friend.  Although, I did have a friend, and I use the term loosely now, that tried to sell me…”

            “ENOUGH!  What did his friends tell you?"  The wizard’s eyes smoldered with an inner flame that threatened the bird’s health.

            “Take half of the pair,” peeped the bird.

            The boy wizard walked on with the bird on his shoulder.  Neither said a word.  The boy’s knitted brow and clenched jaw was all that was needed to keep Babbler quite.

            The woods gradually increased with ground cover as they marched towards the river that Babbler had seen earlier.  There was no path to follow, and the undergrowth made for tricky stepping.  As the odd couple made their way to their destination the ground was made more viscous by the amount of water.  With each step the boy was fighting to retrieve his boots from the muddy earth.  He stopped at the stump of a tree to knock the clogged earth from his boots and continued towards the river.  They were just yards from the bank of the river when it happened.       

 

 

Chapter 6

 

Yes, yes, yes!  Closer.  Claptrapping, thumpstumping, closer.  Mucksucking boots sliding slipping closer.  Yes.  Flapping feathers sky bound, clipped, earth bound evermore.  Pissy twosome stumbling stoically to me.

I. Yes, I. More of me than Mother.  Feed her.  Those pests too.  It’s me.  I. Destroys, redeploys.  Them annoys.  Move earth and sky.  I. See them for what they’re.  Cloacle nuisances.  Walking, squawking messes all.

The water watched as the young wizard and his medium approached.  The water ran, still and deep.  The unsuspecting duo approached the shore of the flowing river, the boy struggling to free his feet from the previous steps.

Send them a hand.  Yes, yes!  Lift a finger on their behalf.  Closer.  Wash, scrub, their souls.  Yes, his boots too!  Bird, beak to tail.  Stink smells strong.  Know that smell!  Slimy skulker eats rocks.  Thinks I’m a servant.  Wrap a hand and submerge them all!  Yes.  Closer still.

Birds, wizards, neither remembers.  No rebirth cycle for me.  I. Reborn everyday.  Mother and I. Cleanse, nurture, nature.  Teach them a lesson.  Fault lies not in ourselves, but.  Those fools… all!  Yes, yes, yes!

Silstan saw it first and yelled, “Duck!”

Babbler barley had time to respond, “I’m not a duc…” before what appeared to be a huge hand of water smacked them up against a nearby tree, then dragged them down the muddy bank into the watercourse.

Groggy but not unconscious, the boy and his bird were swept along at the waters pace.  Arms and wings flailing, they fought to keep beak and brow above water.  Amidst the gurgling, sputtering protests and plies for help, the wizard thought he heard someone say “Hmmm.”

Insolent, vacuous.  No recollections!  Forgotten.  Speaks only to those who speaks the same.  Fools, idiots Gods are!  Those that forget the past doomed.  Once, shame on me; twice, shame on you.  I. Send him to the bottom.  Lend him an ear.  Sound of the sea.

They boy felt something grab his ankles and yank him downward.  He dropped beneath the water and plunged to the bottom of the river.  Seaweed had wrapped itself around the boy’s legs and held him firmly planted on the riverbed.  With his eyes wide and chest bursting for air, the weeds presented to the boy’s ear a shell.  That done they proceeded to scrub at the boy.  Through his hair, under his clothes, and in every nook and cranny the weeds swept away the grime that was the boy.

Hears me now?  I. Yes.  Needs his ears cleansed.  That’s all.  Wants a wash.  Yes.  Listens to me now.  Yes!  Hears.  I.

Released from the grip of the plants, the boy ascended to the surface shell to ear.  Babbler, who had been spared the rude baptism, had found a piece of driftwood serendipitously floating by and clung to it like a wet blanket.  The boy broke the surface of the water with a gasp, which startled the bird off his perch and sent the two of them to flailing again.

Splashes.  No need for splashes.  Floats on me.  I. Lift you.  Can’t swim like fishes, or sinks like rocks.  That smell.  Stench of a rocksinker.  Scrubbed many of them.  Can’t swim.  Sink.  Want me to serve them though.  I. Yes, sometimes.

The boy and the bird now clinging together stopped their splashing.  The wizard with shell to ear spoke to the voice of the river in the shell.  “Who are you?”

“What, another nasty bump on your head?"  Replied Babbler.

“Not you!  The voice!”

“Worse than before, now you’re hearing voices.”

“Shut up!  I’m talking to the shell.”

Birds doesn’t hears me.  Yes.  I. Fix that and smell all.  Rubadub!  Feathers, fur, and flesh.  Send them down dirty; comes up cleansed.  Not likes rocks.  Stinks, sinks.

“So this is the way you treat your mediums!  I’ll be in touch with the union over this, I’ll tell you.  Write up a grievance as soon as possible.  It’s no wonder you didn’t have a medium.  No one would put up with you.  I won’t stand for it!”

No, won’t stands; stinks, sinks.  Squawker, squeaky!

The wizard hearing this just had time to warn the bird, “Hold your breath!”

Grasses grip griping.  Beak bright, feathers flushed.  Slimy stink washed.  Come to me.  I. Yes, cleanse you!

The bird took his turn at the bottom of the river where the vegetation scrubbed at him.  When the job was done the bird was let go to breathe the air with his boss.  Once at the top, Babbler shook and preened his plumage.

“Would have been nice to have fair warning, though I’m glad to have that stench gone.  Who’s behind this anyhow?”

It is me.  I. Allwater!  Everywhere.  I. Yes.  Coursing, pooling, drifting, swirling.  Cycling through air and earth.  Answered the blue green water.

“Why did you ambush us the way you did?  Why didn’t you speak up when we asked you to?"  Silstan spoke into the shell.

Spoke, but none listens.  Forgotten how, maybe why.  Pissing, fecal, trespassers trodding.  Hurling insults, threats.  Deserves worse.  Yes.  Not nice to me.  I. Brings foulsmells.  Rocks.  Skulker.  Once known, me to you.  I Yes.

“Allwater, I heard a sound like ‘HMMM’ was that you?"  The wizard asked the shell.

Yes.  Forgotten mindspeak with sea.  Teaches, trains you to hear me.  I. Silly seashell.  Prop, tool.  Pretty.  Fools busy wishing.  All.  Waste, want not.  Yes.  Can speak sans shell.  Listens too.

The boy said, “We’re sorry about relieving ourselves so close to you, but we have been traveling for some time.  We intended to follow your path to the village on the far shore.  If we promise to be more careful next time could you help us?”

Drift.  Current.  Yes.  Follow me.  Yes.  I. Bring both.  Be good, safe.  No more water closets.  Me. I. No more stench.  Cleansed.

The bird held tight as he and the boy began their journey down river.  Quietly the river ran, speeding them towards the village.  While they floated effortlessly through the woods, Silstan and Allwater conversed.

“You mentioned that stench and rocks, do you know Dargle?”

Knew all skulkers.  Hideous, dirty, slimy rocksinkers.  Yes.  Made me serve them sometimes.  I. Despises.  Talk dirty, are, all!  No names, just demands.  Not friends; fiends, foes.  One left.  Yes.

“Do you know where he is?”

Hard to know.  Never bath.  Scared of froth and foam.  Flotsam, jetsam, sinks’em.  Not close.  Knows me.  I. Yes.  Stays away.  Cleanse them once, once!

The river could tell the boy no more, and they were quickly reaching their destination.  The sun was fading, and the bird and the boy could see torches being lit in the approaching village.

Shore to shore!  Yes.  Friends you and me.  I. Yes.  Squawker too.  All.  Remember me.  I. Allwater!  Yes.

The river set the wizard and his medium gently upon the shore.  The river waved.  They waved.  Turning from the river’s edge, the wizard stood staring at a field of corn blowing in the breeze.  In the distance he could see a house and past that the village.

“Well at least we won’t offend anyone’s sense of smell when we get to the village,” said the bird.

“Yes, but we should dry out first.  Are you hungry?” asked the boy.

“I thought you’d never ask,” quipped the bird.

The wizard built a fire and replenished his supply of fish, while Babbler ate his fill of fresh creepy crawlies.

Once they were dried and fed the party of two walked along the edge of the cornfield on their way to the village.  There was no wind and the heat of the past days left the crops dry.  A slight rustling made the wizard bend his ear towards the sound.

“Ah, must be a field mouse,” said the boy.

“No,” replied the bird flatly.

In the twilight, a shadow scurried along the ground in the field of corn.

 

More to come!