Search for Dastardly Part 5

Adrian refrained from commenting on the unusual brass hat that his horse was wearing when they left the palace, allowing the gnome to remove it while appearing incredibly guilty. As the others descended the steps, the knight began to strip down.

'What is that?' Renda gasped.

Nuff winced. 'I don't know if it's legal.'

'What?' Adrian said. 'Haven't you seen a guy in casual clothes before?'

Gone was the bulky armour that Renda had become accustomed to seeing. Underneath, the knight wore puffy brown pants and a striped tunic – and that wasn't even the biggest crime. Small ruffs encircled Adrian's neck and sleeves, throwing his sensibly groomed hair into sharp relief.

'Are you supposed to be from the middle ages or something?'

Adrian produced a strained grin. 'Look who's talking, Ms Rogue.'

Renda absent-mindedly brushed the front of her leather one-piece and straightened her greaves. Adrian strapped the armour onto the side of Sal's saddle.

'We need to keep moving, people,' Waory said. He failed to avoid Renda's harsh gaze.

***

Not far from the markets, the streets of the city were eerily quiet. Cobbled spaces echoed every step of the motley group's passage on their way to the library, and Adrian's horse became uneasy.

'Where are all the citizens?' said Renda.

'We've already lost a ruler in the past year,' Waory said, without answering much. 'There's concern and even fear.' They approached the library's columned entrance. 'It sounds ridiculous, but I think a storm is brewing.'

At this the other humans involuntarily looked upwards into the clear sky. A seagull streaked past.

'He's being metaphorical,' said Nuff. The group stopped under the shadow of the tall building, all marble and sand colours.

'You go in with the others,' the knight told Renda. Sal had stopped short of getting too close to the library. 'I need to sort something out and I'll be up in a second.'

Renda nodded and followed Waory through a private gate. After she was out of sight, the knight walked into a side alley that they had passed on the way.

'Who is it?' he shouted. He might have heard a thump before everything else went dark.

***

Inside the maze of shelves that made the first floor of the library, nothing but the sound of a solitary beetle scuttling across the ground reached the ears of Renda, Nuff and Waory. Eventually they found their way to the main librarian's desk on a wall of the huge space, but even Nuff, whose people were used to navigating twisted tunnels underground, could not quite remember in which direction the doors were.

As Renda reached out for the bell on the counter, the advisor shook his head knowingly. Before her hand had come within an inch of it, a tall, gaunt man appeared behind the desk – so quickly he might have risen out of the ground. He put his hand to his lips and hissed, 'shhh.'

'Mr Parch?' Waory said softly. 'We need to look at a special book...'

Nuff jumped up and heaved himself onto the counter. 'The Illuman book. Probably has a creepy eye on the front.'

Mr Parch proceeded to shush the gnome.

'Speak quietly,' whispered Waory. 'There are enough big words in here for everyone without you adding to them.'

Mr Parch tipped his head to the advisor and began to speak. His mouth seemed more to hint at the words than produce them, as if he were projecting his thoughts calmly and precisely to the visitors' ears without vibrating the air in between.

'We called it the Book of Too Much Knowledge.'

Renda, on the other hand, whispered louder than how most men spoke on a regular basis.

'We must use its knowledge.'

Before Mr Parch raised his arm a third time, Waory nodded and waved behind them. 'I'll come with you.'

Waory and the librarian marched around a row of shelves to the group's left without glancing back.

'Where'd our shining knight get off to?' Nuff asked.

'He said that he would follow us in,' Renda said. 'I wouldn't blame him for getting lost in here.'

***

Adrian was woken by a bucket-full of water being dumped on his head. From the feeling in his nose and cheek, he had been flat on the ground for a while. Now his arms were tied around the back of a chair and his legs strapped to the floor.

'This is original,' he muttered.

'Quit yappin',' a high pitched, raspy voice said. Its owner ventured into the knight's vision, and was – rather appropriately – a rat faced man. This one though, as opposed to a recent nuisance in Adrian's past, was not a kobom, just a dirty human.

'What now, Fred?' said Adrian's dust-coloured kidnapper.

'I told you, I'm not Fred,' said another voice, deeper and in some way familiar to the knight.

'Who are you? What do you want?' Adrian said.

The dirty man opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the other stranger who chuckled mirthlessly.

'Don't you recognise me?'

A second man, bigger than the first but not overly so, made his way into Adrian's field of view. The face took a moment to register with the knight because some elements were simply wrong. Overall however, it resembled an odd acquaintance of his, recently deceased.

'I'm called Dastardly, and you're going to tell me why.'

The knight spluttered for a moment, dumbfounded. 'Who are you really? Dastardly is dead, and this is a loco prank.'

The man walked closer to Adrian, who felt the need to punch the not-quite-right visage square between the eyes. 'You are Sir Adrian of the Clockwork City. I am somehow involved with you, commercially, I think...'

'You're insane.'

'Maybe not that far, but certainly a few sticks short.' The man smiled at Adrian. 'I only started remembering all this the other night.'

'Mr Dastardly...' the dirty man said.

“Dastardly” turned back suddenly. 'Just Dastardly,' he said. He continued his unhinged spiel. 'This chump I don't know. Or at least, I don't think I have any ongoing contracts with him...'

***

'You are aware,' the librarian insinuated as the group looked at the twisted script in the Book of Too Much Knowledge, 'that there are parts to a person that aren't physical?'

The others nodded passively as he continued.

'First of all, the book says that someone is hunting this man.'

'We already know that,' said Renda. 'Krotar is mad.'

'But,' Mr Parch intoned, 'to find him, this Krotar will have to get both remnants.'

The halls of the library were silent while the visitors tried to understand.

'Remnants?' said Nuff. 'What remnants?'

'Your friend's face and soul have been separated from his body.'

Renda once again failed at whispering. 'You've lost me. Are you saying that there is more than one part of Dastardly out there?'

'That's what the book says. One part is very close, whereas the other resides in –'

'The Troll Underworld,' Waory read out. The woman and the gnome glanced at him.

'Um,' he said, 'the Land-Regent mentioned the Troll Underworld just before he poisoned Mr Medieval, but there isn't one iota of information about it here in the library.'

'What about in this book?' the gnome said.

Mr Parch closed the Book of Too Much Knowledge without ceremony.

'This book is to be burned,' he susurrated. 'We do not call it The Book of Ooh, Come and Read as Much as You Want.'

'Right now?' Waory said. 'But we need to find where the freelancer went!'

Renda grasped the librarian's arm in a firm, not entirely threatening way.

'If we can't get to Dastardly first, Krotar will turn this land upside down in search of him.'

'I hate to be devil's advocate here, but we haven't even seen this “Krotar”,' said Nuff.

The mercenary turned her head askew, still holding on to Mr Parch.

'Just a minute...' she said. 'One part of Dastardly is close, and Adrian hasn't returned yet.'

First Encounter #4

Out among the shorter trees and mounds of scree, Talon and Daiv clung to the meagre reins of the montiger. This one was called Durga, the fastest in Yerz and more than fast enough to outrun the puppethead. For Talon, the constant rocking was making his work difficult.

'Couldn't we go by a more direct route?' he asked as Daiv handled the creature's ducking and weaving across the mountain side. Talon had almost finished the makeshift trap, a heavy fishing net with sinkers strapped to each side. At one of Durga's leaps Talon dropped the sixth sinker.

'Dammit!' he said. 'This won't work, there's not enough weight.'

Daiv tried to be optimistic, pausing to guide the montiger over a barely visible creek.

'You'll confuse it, right? Maybe that's all we need.'

Talon folded the net several times, trying prepare for when they arrived at the saddle.

'I think we're keeping pace,' said Daiv. 'On the road we'd have caught him back behind the ridge, but we wouldn't –' The montiger growled.

'I think we're just about there.'

Lookout Ridge oversaw most of the southern forest and the foothills before the plains. It was also very exposed to the mountain trail below but the Ferran puppethead had not yet caught up with them. Behind him, through the gaps in the trees, Talon thought he saw the man running along the winding road.

Talon dismounted and slid down the rocky ridge. He crouched behind the larger of several boulders that lined the pass, and before long the puppethead ran past. Just ahead, Talon could hear it slow down. Daiv and Durga had blocked its path.

'You've got to turn around and give my friend his body back,' said Daiv. Durga took several steps forwards but its rider murmured something and the montiger stopped.

'How are you going to stop me?' the thing said in a conceited, condescending tone that reminded Talon of the voice that his father had put on, back when he read tales of the dastardly conquestors before bedtime.

'I only need to touch you and then you'll be trapped here as I run away,' the puppethead gloated.

'I didn't expect monsters to be so verbose,' said Daiv. 'Talon, now!'

The boy leapt from his hollow. He thought of fighting fish on the lake during the best of times – especially when Ferran told him he was the best fisherman of Yerz since his own father. He heaved the net while holding onto the nearer reaches and let it collapse without grace over Ferran's body.

The puppethead fell forward but did not appear to be injured, and Talon backed away quickly so he would not touch it. The thing struggled and rolled over.

'You didn't really think this through, did you?' it said. 'How dumb can you monkeys get?'

Talon growled angrily. 'What is your problem? Why do you things even care about “us monkeys”?'

The puppethead was almost out from under the net when a noise caught both human and monster's attention. The sky behind Talon had begun the pre-glow of dawn and outlined against it was a massive upside-down, tear-drop shape, floating towards them like a jellyfish of the air.

'Step a little to the right, if you please, Talon,' the voice rang over the mountains. At the same time, the inscrutable mound of lake bed that hid Ferran in the puppethead body was approaching along the pass.

The voice from the hot air balloon continued, magnified by a large horn that glinted in a little of the approaching daylight.

'Attached to this rather unassuming craft is a sort of gyroscope-stabilised cannon. For your information, it is aiming directly at you, lake monster.' The voice was of the Big Honch. 'If you don't return to your own body, quickly and without a fuss, I will blast a hole in you.'

'You don't even know how to use it!' yelled the monster. It ventured a lunge at Talon who ran straight for Ferran.

'Ah, no,' said the Honch. 'None of that funny stuff. It's your own body or none at all.'

'You're bluffing, monkey,' the thing yelled back.

'And you somehow think it's worth taking that chance?'

The puppethead appeared to dance, or at least jump around like a nervous child.

'I don't think this is...' Ferran started saying. He was breathing very quickly. 'I'm not going to last.'

Talon watched as his teacher convulsed, trying to suck in air but without the lung capacity to do so.

'You've run out of time, interloper,' said the voice of the Honch.

The puppethead stamped up to Ferran and clasped the beaked head with its hands. Talon jumped backwards in case of – in case of nothing. There was no sound, no bright flash of light. Ferran's body crumpled and the puppethead stumbled to its left and into a tree, shaking the ground as it too collapsed. It exhaled for the last time in an agonised curse.

'Are you alright?' Talon said, kneeling by the body of his teacher as he sat up, rubbing his forehead. Daiv dismounted Durga and joined them.

'How can we be sure?' he asked. Ferran seemed to be shaking.

'I know,' said Talon. 'Where did you find us last night?'

'Ugh... the old tree house?' Ferran stood up.

'Welcome back,' Talon said. He extended a hand. Ferran was still jittery as he shook it.

'Are you all there?' Daiv said.

'You can't believe what it feels like to be... so weak and helpless...' their teacher began. 'That thing,' he pointed to the puppethead, somehow looking less like a mound of dirt and more like a tangled mass of arms, 'it was using me.'

'It doesn't look the same any more.'

'I was ashamed,' Ferran said. 'I made it look like the thing was hidden under a mound of weeds and sand, apart from whole lot of actual weeds and sand.'

'They can do that?' Talon said.

'They can't really change shape but – I guess that's why they do the other thing.'

The hot air balloon was nearly overhead, and amidst the clanking sounds of the Honch trying to keep it level he let down a rope ladder.

'Good to have you back, Ferran,' he said.

The three on the ground climbed into the basket. To Talon's surprise there actually was a kind of cannon attached to the side.

'Boys,' the Big Honch said, 'I'm sorry for acting so ignorantly, I should have seen this coming.'

'How could you have seen it coming? What do you mean?'

The Honch ignored the question and turned to Ferran.

'I don't know how I can ever make it up to you. I would not have lifted a finger to save you from those things.'

'You did a pretty decent job of saving us all just then,' the fishing teacher said. 'Anyway, it's good that you're willing to fight. We're going to need everyone in Yerz to stop this war.'

The Honch adjusted a secondary burner and piloted the balloon back to the village, and fittingly enough, towards the rising sun.

This is the last of the First Encounter series of stories.  Talon, Daiv, the puppetheads and more will return in "The Puppethead War" which (I hope) should start soon.  In the meantime I've been working on Search for Dastardly, the next instalment of which should be ready by this time next week.

First Encounter #3

The dark of the night was punctured only by the occasional cricket. A rustling of grass heralded the two boys' return, and not long afterwards the bulky mass of lake bed that hid Ferran's form scuttled behind them.

Winter would eventually come to the mountains, but for now there were northerly breezes putting the village Yerz within the range of autumn warmth, much the same as on the lower plateaus or the cities by the coast. Talon and Daiv climbed through an open window bare metres from the room where the puppethead was sleeping, dressed in their teacher's skin.

'We have to go in there?' Daiv whispered. 

In response, an absent grunt sounded from the sleeping figure. Talon placed his finger over his mouth and beckoned his friend to follow. The thing in Ferran's body was snoring as they stepped carefully towards the chest of drawers. Like their teacher had said, they found the photograph of Ferran and a younger woman standing on a broad wooden verandah.

'Where – when do you suppose this was...?' Daiv began.

From outside came the same sound of rustling that the boys had made.

'The grass,' Talon whispered. 'Someone is coming.'

'Are you sure that's not Ferran?'

The question was answered by a call from the person that the boys wished to see even less than the body-stealing monster.

'Who goes there?' said the Big Honch. The village owner opened the door of the house and the thing woke up.

'What the hell are you doing in here?' said the thing. The Honch appeared in the doorway.

'I would like to know the very same thing.'

'This isn't Ferran,' Daiv said faster than he could think, pointing an accusatory finger at the body in the bed.

The Honch looked disconcertingly between the invading child and the sleeper whose home had been invaded.

'I think you'll find it is, silly boy. What do you think you are doing? Playing a prank? Is that it?'

As Talon watched the Honch begin to fume, he thought of a diversion.

'If this man is Ferran,' he said after the Honch had finished, 'who is this?'  The boy jabbed the photograph in the thing's face.

'My old girlfriend,' it said without blinking. To the fright of the Honch, a messy mound of lake muck pushed through the bedroom window. In the absence of bright light, the shape could have been anything, which made it all the more terrifying.

'That's my sister, you monster!' growled the obscured face.

'This is a Thing that has taken over Ferran's body!' Talon said.

Through the window, Ferran breathed heavily again to speak to the Honch. 'This imposter is part of a scouting party and they are going to invade our home.'

The Big Honch finally found his voice. 'Preposterous!' he said. 'Preposterous! I'll have none of this!' He reached into a pocket to procure a match. The Honch lit a candle on the dresser and approached the window. 'What are you and why do you accuse a man of our village?'

'Honch, the puppethead!' Daiv said, but too late – Ferran's body lifted a heavy book above the Honch's head and clobbered him. The thing then leaped across the room before either of the boys could catch it. Daiv chased the monster outside as Talon attempted to lift up the Honch's moaning form. On the floor, the candle wavered in the rush of air and illuminated the scene with eerie shadows.

'Are you okay?' Talon said, despite his overwhelming dislike of the man. Behind them, Ferran straightened out and called to Daiv to return.

'The puppethead will probably try to leave the village,' he said weakly. 'Now that its secret is known, it can't hide.'

'We have to head it off,' said Talon, 'force it to go back into its own body.'

Daiv came back, outside near Ferran. 'I can take one of the montigers. If we go over Lookout Ridge we can cut him off.'

The Honch stirred. 'I can't believe that this is happening...'

'Neither did we,' Talon said.

'No,' the Honch said. 'No, what I mean is that it's happening. That Thing is the start of it.'

'Start of what?' said Daiv. The Honch didn't reply.

'Saddle the montiger, I'll go and grab a net,' said Talon. 'Ferran, you've got to try and make it to the southern pass.'

'Do you really think we can catch it with a fishing net?' One look at Talon's face was all he needed. Ferran made another unearthly shudder as he breathed painfully.

'Get going!' Talon said.

New Serial - First Encounter #2

The children's hideout was a tree house, half a kilometre from town. The woods on the south eastern mountain curled down onto the plains below – and clumps of tall conifers prevented the tree house from being seen by anyone on the pass above. When Talon and Daiv arrived late into the night the tree house was empty.

'We can hide here and let the Honch cool down,' Talon murmured as they climbed into the branches surrounding the crude structure.

Daiv gave him a look. 'We have to go and see if Ferran is okay,' he said. 'First thing tomorrow morning.'

The boys discussed their plan to return the next day, all the while fighting tiredness from the frantic rowing and their fight with the Honch. Eventually however, they both succumbed and slept dreamlessly.

***

Four hours after midnight, Talon's rest was disturbed by an insidious creeping noise. Somewhere below the tree, a dragging – or slithering – was coming closer. Trying to make as little sound as possible he woke Daiv, who grunted sleepily.

'Shh!' Talon hissed, putting his finger over his mouth. 'Outside.'

Staring bleary-eyed, Daiv followed his friend to the door of the tree house. Just visible in the starlight that shone on grass and leaf was a large shadow making its way under the branches.

'What do we do?' Daiv whispered.

Talon thought about this for a second. 'We can hide in the next tree along.'

'But, if the thing is tall enough –'

'We don't know if it's even after us,' Talon said. 'It could be some creature of the forest.'

As they climbed out the back of the house, a deep rumble came from below. Fearful but curious, both boys watched as the thing – shaggy and formless in the near absence of light – moved to cover the bottom of the tree house's trunk.

'Is it going to shake it?' Daiv said. Immediately he regretted this, as the thing made a sudden move at the sound of the boy's voice. Emanating from somewhere inside the mass was another rumbling drawl.

'Did that sound like a word to you?' Talon said.

Daiv trembled. 'No. Let's run.'

The thing repeated itself.

'I think I can make it out...'

The third time, Daiv gasped and fell from the tree. Talon was so concerned for his friend that he almost missed what the thing was saying.

'Are you there? Talon? Daiv?'

Talon jumped down from the tree. 'It knows our names!' he said, while helping Daiv to his feet. The boy froze when he looked over Talon's left shoulder.

'C..c..coming towards us!'

'Didn't you hear me?' said Talon. 'Our names!'

Together they faced the creature. Barely a metre from the tree they had hidden under, Talon realised why it had been hard to make out.

'It's covered by a mound of weeds and sand,' he said. Daiv failed to notice as he was currently working through several flavours of nervous breakdown.

The thing was more than two metres in height, though this could have been from the vast amount of junk that obscured its shape. Apart from the hint of a head and parrot-like jaw on the end of a long neck, which was also draped with stinking strands of weed, there were no definable features protruding from the mound.

'I need help,' it said, slowly and somewhat confused. 'The puppethead has returned to the village and this body will not survive forever above the water.' At this point, Talon realised that the long drawl and continuous rumble noise could have been a painstaking attempt at breathing.

'How do you know our names? How did you know where to find us? Who are you?'

The thing wavered its head back and forth. 'Too many questions. We don't have enough time. It's me, Ferran.'

'What?' Talon said.

Daiv broke his silence to sneer at the thing. 'Why would we believe you when you have no proof?' His motion became less stilted now it was clear the thing wouldn't eat him, yet.

The thing took an even deeper breath. 'The puppetheads, as my fellow captives called them, swap minds with the being that they touch. This thing that stands in front of you is currently sleeping in my bed, wearing my body.'

'That makes sense,' Talon said to Daiv. 'The Lake Sickness affected the montigers' minds –'

'There are others of these at the bottom of the lake whose owners were killed with the montigers. Dag, your pet, is down there.'

'How did you escape?' Talon continued to question the thing. 'Who else has been taken?'

Again, a breath that rattled the air around them. 'We don't have the time for this. There is a photograph of my late sister under the chest of drawers in my cabin. That should be enough proof that I am Ferran – I never told anyone else about her.'

'What can we do?'

'The puppetheads are planning a war, as far as we can gather. Their own bodies do not have efficient lungs and cannot live too long outside the water. I already feel like I'm about to pass out.'

'But why?' Talon said as the thing groaned. 'We'll get you into your body somehow, Ferran.'

'You need to get back to the village and warn the Big Honch,' the thing gasped. 'Don't worry about me.'

Daiv shook his head. 'No, you are following us back. We will find the puppethead.'

As Talon and Daiv raced off through the woods, they didn't hear Ferran call from behind them, 'there might be more than one!'

Ongoing Adventures #0

This "early bird" instalment of Ongoing Adventures fills in some missing information before the end of Search for Dastardly.


Loss of Face

Not long after the man who called himself Dastardly Medieval died, the woman employed as Death was having doubts about her apprentice's fitness for the task at hand.

'I promise, Master. Nothing will happen to it.'

Death walked to the freelancer's cold body and sighed. 'This is very important, Orticia. Dastardly will want his face intact when he returns from his mission, and the Ces need that leverage.'

'Why do you call this freelancer Dastardly?' the apprentice wondered aloud. 'As Death, you would know that he's really called –'

'Listen,' Death said. She placed her hands near the body. It would be an hour or so before the undertaker returned, and another hour still before Waory was contacted by Sir Adrian the Knight. As Death's hands touched the pallid skin, a ball of light – like a parody of a lens flare in spherical form – erupted from the freelancer's empty head. The face then flattened out and the corpse was seemingly devoid of identity.

'Take it to the river delta Skim,' said Death. 'The vault in that city has a place already set aside for it.' Death knew that she would look at another body in the future and wish that Orticia could have completed the task. However, events progressing exactly to plan was not required and this course of action was still valid. Death passed the glowing light – what remained of Dastardly's identity now that his soul was elsewhere – into her apprentice's hands.

Orticia bobbed her head in obedience and looked at the freelancer's “face” between her palms. 'I will not fail,' she said. Death, having seen her failure, did not nod but disappeared to attend to other matters.

***

'How do I get out of here?'

Orticia had blundered into another dead end on her way out of the plains capital. Often, people will ignore death unless it has some bearing on themselves, so almost no one noticed the frantic woman holding a glow between her hands – until a pair of voices came at her from behind, clearly intent on noticing her.

'What have we here, Fred?' said a raspy voice. 'Is she a witch? She's hard to look at, this one.'

'That's coz she doesn't want to be seen,' said a deeper voice, presumably Fred. 'Where are you going in such a hurry, young miss?'

Death's apprentice tried to remember the rite of nothing. 'Everything crumbles,' she mumbled.

The two muggers encircled the transfixed Orticia. Fred, the bigger one, looked at what she was holding.

'Something of value, little miss?' he said. 'You hand it over, and we won't be quite as rough.'

'Nothing is really there forever!' she said, and ran forwards. The bigger thug gasped dumbly as the woman ran straight through him. He collapsed as a strange light shone out of his mouth.

To her horror, Orticia saw that the freelancer's face had gone, but she didn't stick around to see the results – instead she stumbled blindly through walls as if they were mist until she had beelined outside of the city, several metres under a mound of dirt.

'Fred, what's wrong Fred?' said the shorter of the two thugs, the one with the raspy voice. On the ground the bigger thug stopped clutching at his face.

'I'm not Fred,' he said as he stood up.

Search for Dastardly Part 4

The gnome watched the knight and the tough, plucky girl dismount their horse upon arrival at the palace. After they had ascended the wide steps, he procured a large hemisphere, hollow and covered in rubber alternating with chunks of metal.

Nuff then approached the horse. 'Easy there,' he mumbled. 'Just need to see what I think you've seen.'

He scrabbled his way onto the back of the beast – which was visibly irritated but probably hoping he would feed it another apple. When he placed the hemisphere like a cap on its head, he produced another device from his cavernous coat. This one resembled a glowing window lined with brass tubing.

'I knew it!' he said, not a second later. 'This knight was with Dastardly.'

Nuff then leapt onto the cobbles below and replaced the window device inside his clothing. He was halfway up the stairs himself when he turned to notice the hemisphere still on the horse's head.

Damn it, he thought, before shaking his head. Just leave it there.

Following the other two, the gnome opened the gigantic doors by leaning hard against them. The effort required by someone his size was diminished by the fact that he didn't need as much of a crack to squeeze inside.

Voices were coming from the far side of the entrance hall. Nuff went towards the throne room to eavesdrop.

***

Waory was almost finished telling Adrian and Renda about the events of the previous day, before he detailed what had happened since.

'When the Land-Regent killed the freelancer, I couldn't just stand by. Despite what you may think, servants have a lot of power under the laws of the plains.'

'What use is that?' Renda said.

Adrian grinned amiably. 'I think my bold friend here means: what did you actually do?' Renda raised an eyebrow.

'The Civil Authorities realised the more power that the workers have, the less likely you are to have a situation were, say, a trusted advisor plans to usurp the throne. I used the law to arrest Sirus for murder, and it worked.'

'They didn't think that you were trying out usurpation for yourself?'

The advisor shook his head. 'The investigators were brought in, everything went swimmingly...'

Adrian paced across to the vacant throne. 'Okay, so why did the Land-Regent act so rashly? I thought he was chosen for his cool head.'

'We aren't sure, but the investigators did a search of his quarters in case they might have leads, such as another country paying to have Mr Medieval killed.'

The knight stared back at the advisor. 'They found something, didn't they?'

'They found a book that had been missing from the library.'

'That's it?' Renda spat. 'A stolen book?'

Waory shook his head again, like some pantomime character. 'We're drifting off topic here. The reason I needed you to come was because of Mr Medieval's body.'

'Just get to the point.'

'At first we thought it might have something to do with the Land-Regent's poison, but –'

The advisor was suddenly on the receiving end of two dangerous glares.

'His face has disappeared, his clothes are missing and we can't find his identification papers, happy now?'

Renda and the knight swapped puzzled looks.

'So you can't actually confirm that it's him that died,' said Adrian. 'Is it possible that this was all a set up, or a trick?'

The man attempted to appear pensive but came off as stroking an imaginary beard. 'I saw the freelancer die on the balcony, there's no doubt about it.'

Having chosen the best time to make a grand entrance, the gnome joined the circle of people by the throne.

'We could use the book to find out what's really going on,' he said. 'Sorry to barge in like this, the name's Nuff.' Nuff Sed turned to Adrian. 'I saw you get off that airship yesterday, the one my cousin Plen was piloting.'

Before the knight had fully registered this, Nuff continued speaking.

'I'd bet all of my gold on that book being an Illuman relic.'

'The dark artefacts?' Waory said, apparently shocked. 'The Illuman artefacts were destroyed some time before the first World Congress.'

Adrian snapped his fingers. 'That's the connection, it's all there in the library.'

The knight began to elaborate while the others stared on dumbly.

'The research papers didn't describe them, but the author witnessed Illuman relics causing madness to those who used them “too greedily”. Waory – this book probably did the same thing to the Land-Regent that the glass shard did to Siy before we met him.'

'May I see this shard?' the gnome said. Adrian rummaged about in the satchel by his waist, suddenly remembering the night he'd shown some entirely different objects to the dead freelancer. When he found the shard, he passed it sideways to the gnome.

'Interesting,' said Nuff. 'It's like something out of a fairytale.' He pointed to the writing. 'Did you notice this?'

The knight shrugged. 'Yeah, it says “d'Aseere”, but I couldn't find what that means.'

'This does get us somewhere,' said Nuff. 'Not very helpful though, if you don't want to go mad.'

'Hang on, just hang on everyone,' Renda said, holding her arms up defensively. She looked down at the gnome. 'You said we could use this Illuman book to find out what's going on.'

'Theoretically, yes,' Nuff replied. 'As far as I know, the Illuman relics' purpose was to inform their creators of things they could not otherwise know.' He indicated Waory. 'Your Regent was probably using the book to get ahead on a commerce deal, or something.'

Adrian shivered. 'If we are to read this book to find out what happened to Dastardly –'

'And hopefully stop Krotar and Nius from turning the land inside out,' Renda added.

The knight continued. 'We had better make this quick. Waory, can you requisition the book?'

'I recommend that we pay the Library a visit. Let's get going.'

New Serial - First Encounter #1

'The truth is,' the Big Honch began, 'Dag had to be put down because of the lake sickness.'

Talon sat among the other children in the town hall, trying to form the question on his mind.

The Honch continued. 'We don't know why our pets and some of the wild animals are acting like this, but we have to be careful – just in case humans can catch it too.'

Talon raised his arm. 'Why do we still fish on the lake then?' he said. 'And what about the Floating Village down the river?'

'You mustn't ask stupid questions, little Talon,' the Honch said. 'The lake is the source of our livelihood. If we stopped fishing, we would have nothing to trade.'

***

The village Yerz was situated on the long mountain pass that connected South and North Ryndia. Overlooking the south western half of a great lake, their harvest had been constantly great until the start of the lake sickness incidents. Those animals allowed in the water, including the montigers the villagers kept as pets, occasionally returned to Yerz not recognising their owners and even began to attack people who came close.

Lately the montiger known as Dag had contracted the illness. The Honch, the leader of the town, was then left to explain its disappearance to its owners – a contingent of children who were learning to fish on the lake.

'Can you believe that?' Talon said, maybe too loudly, to his friend Daiv as they left the hall. 'He thinks we're babies. I just don't want to be the first human to catch it!'

'You won't,' Daiv said. 'We aren't going in the water – Ferran made sure all the boats were brought to the docks.'

'Whatever.' The two boys approached Ferran for the day's lesson.

'Ready then,' he said without a hint of inquiry.

'Yep,' they replied in unison. 'Let's go catch some trout.'

***

The day was as simple and enjoyable as fishing can be, without the added hassle of catching fish.

'Boys, I know you're having a lot of fun,' Ferran said not long after midday, 'but the village relies on this trade.'

The man rummaged around in his leather bag, producing a three-pronged metal monster. 'This is the Big Momma.'

'A Quondu lure?' Talon said with his eyes aglow.

'Nothing less.' Ferran grinned. 'If this doesn't do it, nothing will, and we'll go home empty handed.'

He hooked “Big Momma” and a float onto the end of the nearest fishing pole, casting over the port stern. Talon noticed the float moving slightly.

'Probably just the wind, mate,' said Ferran. 'You know you've got something when –'

The float disappeared and Ferran was jerked heavily towards the side of the boat.

'Careful now,' he said as the water splashed against the sides. 'Feels like a big one.'

Ferran began levering with the pole to wind in as much line as he could. Suddenly the boat was rocked heavily. Before the boys could register what had happened, Ferran was several metres out of reach and frantically treading water.

'Just go home and get help!' he said. 'I think the line is tied around my ank –'

As their teacher disappeared below the water, Talon and Daiv took to the oars.

***

The sun was setting when the boys reached the dock. Talon tied the boat up and followed Daiv to the Honch's house.

'Ferran was taken underwater by the biggest fish –'

'We've got to go and find him –'

'Take the montigers and rescue –'

'Knives to cut the line –'

'Hang on, just hang on,' the Big Honch told the boys. 'One of you at a time.'

'We have to go and find him,' said Daiv.

'Ferran might still be alive, but he's drowning,' Talon added.

The Honch didn't speak for several seconds.

'Even if Ferran was still alive after being underwater,' he began. 'It is far too dangerous to mount a rescue. For all we know, he's already contracted the lake sickness.'

The boys grew more than just downcast as the Honch continued, knowing they could do nothing to change his mind.

'Neither of you touched the lake, did you?' he said. 'I'll have to keep you here overnight while I confirm that the sickness hasn't spread.' The man stood up and walked past them absently.

Talon exploded. 'You self absorbed, money driven... autocrat!' he said. 'Don't you see that this is just stupid? You insist that we continue to fish on the lake even while you say that it's too dangerous! Ferran could still be out there, and you don't want to lift a finger!'

The Honch turned back to the boy. 'Big words for an unschooled and rude little fisherman's brat!'

'Hey, don't bring his father into this!' Daiv said. The Honch's eyebrows furrowed.

'I think you would do well to spend a night in solitary confinement.' The man then grabbed both the boys' collars, taking care not to touch their skin. The Honch walked them out of the house and down the street as shouts echoed up from the dock.

'What is this about?' the Honch said. He pointed sharply at the boys. 'Stay here, or else.'

'No way am I listening to him,' Talon said.  He followed from behind, as quietly as he could, and stood near the edge of the town hall closest to the lake. In the twilight he was nearly invisible.

'What is going on?' said the Honch. Near the wharf, a man that might have been Mr Sasket was holding onto a dripping body. Ferran twitched and gasped a huge breath.

'Thank the heavens,' the Honch said. 'I was worried that you were gone for good.'

'He needs to rest,' said Mr Sasket. 'Let's take him home to sleep it off.'

As the Big Honch turned back up the slope, Talon raced off and grabbed Daiv on the way.

This is the first chunk of a full story that may turn into a longer series.  I hope that you are anxiously awaiting the conclusion - and please feel free to voice comments or criticism below!

Search for Dastardly Part 3

This part grew in the telling, so Part 4 won't be far behind (earliest will be Wednesday next week).

Adrian awoke early the next morning. Down in a field nearby, he found Renda sitting cross-legged, facing the growing light of sunrise.

'We should leave now,' he said. 'I don't want any more magic happening. That stuff just isn't right.'

Renda kept looking at the horizon. 'That “stuff” wasn't magic,' she said. 'I don't know what it was, so don't ask – it just wasn't magic.'

'We can take Sal down to the city, we'll be there before midday.'

'There's the dawn,' Renda said. She stood up and turned to the knight. 'Alright then, let's go.'

They walked together towards the stables.

'No offence to your colleagues,' Adrian blurted, 'but you seem a little conscientious to be a mercenary.'

'What do you mean?'

'Finding my horse, for one thing – no one paid you to do that. I guess I just want to know who I am working with.'

The woman stopped walking. 'As long as we're doing this thing... I could ask similarly of you.'

'There isn't much more about me than meets the eye,' the knight said. 'I was born in the Clockwork City, I became part of the Guard and was knighted when I –'

'Hmm?'

'It's a boring story. I've been in service of the new King since the lentil harvests started.'

Renda's eyes widened. 'You're not that knight of the Clockwork City?' she said. 'The one who travelled the darkest parts of the Foreboding Forest and defeated the hag of the swamps?'

'Well actually, I just gave her some spinach...'

'It was you!' Renda said. 'Is it true that you killed a dragon?'

'How do you know about this?'

'The troubadours sing and rhyme about you everywhere!' Renda said, her face lighting up with more than the sun. 'I always wanted to be like the fabled Knight who found the Golden Lentil! Your story was spoken in the same breaths as Won the Conqueror!'

Adrian tried to talk over his own blushing. 'I doubt I'm as famous as Won. Perhaps we should just keep going.'

'Sir Adrian, I never knew your name, but I joined the mercenaries because of you. I wanted to go on adventures and save damsels, wrestling monsters with my bare hands.' Renda gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. 'Krotar, Bei and I were sent to catch you!'

'What?'

'That was our contract,' she said in awe. 'The plains Civility thought there was a spy hiding in the north, in the Sponge Country. It was you.'

'That's quite a coincidence,' Adrian said, carefully avoiding Renda's gaze. 'You aren't still going to do it, right?'

'Don't be thick,' she said, returning to her detached air almost immediately. 'We've got to go and talk to this Waory fellow, quick.'

'Right,' Adrian said. Without looking back, the knight rushed away as the sun reached into the sky.

***

Sal was a sturdy and reliable horse, if a little on the slow side. As Adrian and Renda settled into her trotting speed along the southbound lane, the knight turned his head slightly. The mercenary sat behind him, and it was the first time since her outburst that he looked her in the face.

'Watch out,' she said, and the knight turned back to steer the horse down the right path.

'Why did you join the mercenaries if you wanted to be a hero, Renda?'

'I'd rather not talk about that,' she said. 'The sooner we can find out what this whole business with Dastardly is –'

'Do you really care about what happens?' said Adrian. 'And what if he's just dead, nothing strange about it?'

'I don't expect you to understand, Sir Adrian, but I have no idea what is going on. Nius showed up and finagled our free will – I'm pretty sure he's anything but human. Now Krotar and he are on some mission to kill this freelancer? Even if he's probably dead? Where's the logic? What could possibly connect anything that's happened over the last few days?'

'I find,' the knight replied, 'that the answers can sometimes track you down, wherever you might be.'

'Like Sal and me finding you at the farm.'

'Yeah,' he grunted. 'There's got to be a reason that we're headed down this path. All we can do is hope that it's a good reason.'

***

Adrian spoke up again as they rode through the city outskirts. 'The whole place is designed to fan out of the main square and the palace. It actually looks pretty grand from the air.'

'You weren't on that airship from Hox, too, were you?'

'Of course,' said the knight. 'Don't expect me to settle for walking, I'm too important.'

'Where is it now?' Renda said, ignoring the jab at her supposed fanaticism. 'A working airship like that could fetch a hefty price out west.'

'Actually, it's back in the hands of a gnome,' Adrian said. He realised that the horse had stopped moving, and a crunching noise was coming from her mouth. The knight looked round and saw a small hand feeding Sal an apple. Connected to the small hand were a body and a face, somehow familiar.

'What are you doing?' he said to the new gnome.

'Nuffin',' it replied. 'What're you doing?'

'We have an urgent meeting at the palace, if you don't mind moving.'

'Fine,' the gnome said. 'I guess your horse has had plenty.'

As they gathered speed again, something was tugging at the back of Adrian's mind. For now he dismissed it as just a bit of flotsam from the time he had spent with the freelancer.

Continues straight into Part 4, coming soon.

"Just to be Clear, the Narrator is a Human", Review Copy

Recently I got the results for an assignment I mentioned at the end of October.

Here is the version of the story that I submitted, called "They Talk"

The smell of mint wafted in from the garden, intermingling with catnip.

I really should have thought better.  I left Mr Bubbles and the other cats inside.  I locked up.  I managed to catch the Ackersons before they went on holiday for three weeks.  Who could have thought that the shabby little tabby would push a chair against the doorknob and lock me out?

Over the day, marooned in my own backyard, I had studied the situation.  The cats were mostly gathered in the living room.  Once or twice a violent argument had broken out as to who got the beanbag but Mr Bubbles always won.

I scanned the back door for the fiftieth time, noting that the telephone was still off the hook.  At least, I thought, combined with the reek of unchanged kitty litter in the laundry, that meant they still couldn't grasp things.  Opposable thumbs should have been an overwhelming advantage, but I had no winning moves.  Short of walking all the way back to the Ackersons' place and stealing a pickaxe, of course.  There were no open windows, no secret doors – there was nothing I could exploit.

The cat door.

I felt like a bolt of lightning had hit me – the day I forgot my keys and slid in through the cat flap. Reinvigorated, as well as humiliated it didn't occur to me earlier, I rushed to the laundry door.

***

Hopelessness returned.  I would never fit both arms through that hole again, let alone my whole body.  While I stood by the door, a rustling caught my ear, and before I knew it I was staring down at a toothy face.  A black, Burmese claw was held at my throat, the others digging into my T-shirt.  It was Dobby, another of the cats.

'Who goes there?' he hissed, like English was disgusting for him to speak.  I grabbed him at the waist and ripped him away, trying not to scream in pain.  I waited for him to stop struggling.  

'Why are you outside?'

'Mr Bubbles eats all the food,' he spat.  'Challenge him too much and it's out the cat flap, and they've blocked it with a box.'

The only box I could think of was the unpacked books, one that I could easily move with one hand.

'Even with you we all got fed,' the cat growled, 'I'd give anything for that again.'

'I can get you back in,' I said, 'if you move the chair away from the door.'

Dobby growled again.  'Deal.'

Mr Bubbles owed me a long time in his kitty cage.