S is for the sole that goes on forward,
H is for the heel that rearwards be,
O is for the oxen-leather stitching,
E is for the eyelets, don’t you see?
Put them all together, they spell SHOE-oo,
And that means an awful lot to me!
The Brownie Creed, Stanza 603
I knew I was in trouble the moment I opened my eyes. Without thinking, I had wished myself away from all the others, and apparently, completely out of Mother Duck’s control. But where had I wished myself to?
I still was in a forest, perhaps in another part of the Eastern Woods. But it was different here, far darker than the clearing where we had met the giant. The trees were much taller and broader, towering far overhead, their great shadows keeping the sunlight from the forest floor. Their bark was dark gray as well, almost the gray of the shadows, and for a moment I imagined I had wished myself to a place that held no color, but only shades of shadow.
I tilted my head back as far as I could, trying to see the tops of those monstrous trees. There, high overhead, I could see some small patches of blue. But the color gave me no comfort because of what else I saw above me.
Here it was, the end of summer, and none of the trees had leaves. Their branches were barren, shaking in the wind high overhead, rattling against one another like skeleton bones. All the trees were dead.
That same breeze whipped against me with an unexpected suddenness, blowing Alea’s borrowed blond hair from my head. I let it go. The giant had seen through my disguise in an instant. I pulled the sackcloth skirt up about my shoulders, hoping the extra fabric would provide me with some protection against the sudden chill.
I did not like this; it was all too familiar. I had been in a forest like this before.
I thought I heard a dry chuckle carried by the wind.
I turned and saw a robed figure regarding me from between the trees. Even before I could see his face through the shadows, I knew what to expect; the darkened sockets, the skull-like grin, the hands that looked like whitened bones.
“Greetings,” the sepulchral voice of Death announced as the spectre approached. “It has been quite some time, Eternal Apprentice, since we have had a chance to speak alone.”
I stood my ground as Death drew nearer, floating toward me as if he was carried forward by the howling wind rather than anything as simply mortal as legs and feet. Death seemed to think there was something special about me. That was why he called me the “Eternal Apprentice,” a soul that managed to elude Death’s grasp by constantly being reborn in new forms, a soul destined to always aid, however clumsily, true heroes, with the assistance of multiple companions.
I had no idea if there was any truth in Death’s claim. But it didn’t seem to matter what I thought about it. Death had decided that I had somehow escaped his kingdom many times in past lives, and because of that he was willing to bend the rules of life and death, and steal me away as soon as I was alone.
As I was now. All alone with Death, without even my cowardly sword to protect me.
Death grinned at me, and held out his hand. “You cannot imagine how I have longed for this moment. To at last possess the one who has forever been beyond my grasp!”
He threw his hea3back and laughed, a high-pitched, frightening sound, like nightbirds falling from the sky with broken wings.
“Indeed,” I responded, concentrating mightily to keep my voice from cracking in terror. Death would take me now; he had made his desire for my Eternal Apprentice soul abundantly clear in my last two narrow escapes. But I could not succumb to the emotions that raged inside me, threatening to block my windpipe, to stop my heart. Perhaps, I reasoned instead, if I could get Death to talk, he might betray some weakness and inadvertently show me a way to save myself.
“Indeed?” Death replied, a bit surprised.
“Indeed,” I said again. “I think not.”
Death chuckled, the sound of black beetles being ground underfoot.
“Pitiful human,” the spectre whispered. “Resistance is useless against a force such as Death. Still, you know my fondness for games. Come! Try your best to keep me from taking you to my kingdom of darkness, and I will thank you for giving me my sport.”
I took a step away. Somehow, though I did not see him move, Death seemed no farther away than before. If anything, he was closer; his outstretched hand now almost touched my shoulder.
“You will not escape that way,” the spectre said. “Death is everywhere.” He flexed his bone-white fingers. “Come now. Take my hand. It will be so simple.”
Was this, then, the end? I could feel panic shooting up my spine. Before, my companions had always rushed to my aid, presenting Death with far too many souls to dispose of, thus defeating his deadly plans. Now, though, I was completely alone, far from everyone I knew. I had even lost my trusty ferret, in an earlier altercation with the giant. The silence of the dead forest seemed to close in around me. Oh, if I could only hear that reassuring “Eep-eep-eep” which had saved me from Death before.
Death’s bony fingers brushed the cloth at my shoulder.
“No!” I cried. “I am not ready!”
Death guffawed, the sound vultures make as they circle their prey. “Ready? You don’t have to be ready for Death. It simply happens. Come now. I have plagues to spread, disasters to provoke. Death can never rest.”
His hand reached for me again. “Come! No one can resist me!”
I am not precisely sure what happened next. The soft, barren earth beneath my feet seemed to give way as I kicked back from the reach of Death. The ground appeared to slip one way, my boots another. Whatever the cause, I lost my footing. I looked up to see Death grasp the empty air where once my head had been.
“I have never seen anyone so clumsy!” the spectre raged. “And you would dare to deny you are the Eternal Apprentice!”
I rolled away, scrambling to my feet.
“Indeed,” I remarked, searching for some words that might further distract the angry spectre.
“What is that?” Death whispered in a voice as cold as Midwinter Night.
I stopped, and in the stillness I, too, heard something cry, an animal of some sort, coming toward us!
“Eep!” the animal sounded. “Eep! Eep!”
I knew what it was even before I saw its gray form streaking between the trees.
It was my ferret.
“Eep!” the ferret cried, overjoyed to see me. “Eep! Eep!”
Death stared at the ferret in disbelief. “That is impossible. We are in the most destitute part of the Eastern Woods, miles from life of any kind. And yet, you are sought out by this animal companion. And still you doubt that you are the Eternal Apprentice?”
The ferret leapt up into my arms. I, too, believed it was a great coincidence that my pet could find me, out in the midst of these barren woods. But then again, this was one of my magic ferrets, produced from an equally magic hat I had taken with me to the Netherhells. Perhaps, because I had conjured them, the ferrets were somehow connected to me. Could it be. then, that all I had to do was think of them, and they would come?
Death glowered at the ferret, spreading his arms wide as if he would encircle me in a skeletal hug.
“Before, I would have contented myself to merely touch you,” the spectre leered. “But no, you choose to elude my deadly grasp. Now, I will be forced to wrestle you to the ground. I will take your soul, and the life of that ferret, too! Submit, mortal! No one can survive the grip of Death!”
I am also not entirely clear on the exact sequence of subsequent events, but I do remember Death lunging for me again and the ferret streaking between us, and my arms flailing to get out of the way, but despite my best efforts somehow getting caught up in Death’s robes, and the spectre flying over my head, falling to the ground with a rattle of bones. I tried to scramble away, only to have my feet get caught by the robes’ coarse material.
Death managed to roll away at last, freeing his ripped robes from my heavy boots.
‘This cannot be happening!” the spectre screamed. “I can see it all now: You will stumble around, barely eluding capture, until the entire world happens to wander into this corner of the forest!” Death laughed ruefully, the sound of forest bears being slowly strangled.
There was another noise behind us.
“What was that?” Death shrieked as he whirled about. For some reason, he seemed to be losing his composure. “It can’t be!”
I turned to look as well. It was a shoe that had made the noise. A very large shoe. For a moment, my heart stopped. Then I saw that it was perhaps not as large a shoe as it would take to fit a giant, but a shoe big enough to hide a mortal man.
“Indeed,” the shoe stated.
“A shoe?” Death whispered. “More than that, a talking shoe? It cannot be, and yet it is.” The spectre turned back to me, its voice gaining power with every word. “But, no matter what its true nature, I will not be foiled. I have come to take you this time, Eternal Apprentice, even though I may be tempting the forces of chaos to do so. It will be simple enough to take the ferret, too. And even though I am not quite sure what it is, the talking shoe is mine as well!”
“I think not,” the shoe replied, as two hands emerged from the very large footwear’s very large eyelets. The hands set themselves into prime conjuring position.
“A talking wizard shoe!” Death stared, and his voice was tinged with wonder. “Every once in a while, there is something that can surprise even me. But I will have all the time I desire to examine it, once it is mine. And I take the Eternal Apprentice, too!” The spectre chuckled once again. “What a day this will be for Death.”
But the hands in the shoe had already begun to conjure, and, as they moved, a small, intensely dark cloud appeared over the spectre.
“How can you stop me?” Death asked in amusement. “Magic holds no power over me.”
The hands waved again, and a great, jagged bolt of lightning streaked down upon the robed spectre, followed by a crash of thunder that almost shattered my ears.
I blinked, trying to regain the totality of my sight after the brightness of the lightning. A great cloud of dust had risen about where the spectre had once stood.
Then the chill winter wind howled all about us, blowing the dust away. Death stood there still. And his grin was, if anything, broader than ever.
“Is that all your pitiful magic can do?” The spectre waved at the dissipating cloud overhead. “You try to turn my own tools against me. I use the lightning for my sword, and the thunder heralds my approach. Foolish mortals, you will never defeat me that way!”
“Indeed?” the shoe remarked, obviously not impressed.
Death screamed at the impertinence.
“Wuntvor!” the shoe called. “Run to my side!”
I did as the shoe asked, for I knew that powerful voice. My master, the wizard Ebenezum, greatest mage in the Western Kingdoms, was inside. I turned around to look at Death, my back pressed reassuringly against the dark brown leather. The ferret, with a glad “eep,” climbed to my shoulders.
The spectre approached, arms opened wide, as if he would lift us all to his dark kingdom.
“Why do you bother to run? Why do you bother to conjure? All your plans, all your spells are as nothing to the Power of Death.”
Death was coming fast. Surely my master could do something. I wondered if it would be better if I moved to the other side of the shoe, away from the ensuing battle. But when I stepped toward the heel, I saw a bone white hand before me. Death blocked my way. I was trapped against the shoe!
“At last,” Death snickered, the sound of butterfly wings being torn apart by knives. “I have been waiting for this moment for ever so long.”
“Oops!”
A large portion of the dead forest came crashing down nearby. Richard the giant had arrived.
“So here you are,” Richard rumbled. “I wondered what all that noise was about.”
“No!” Death screamed, the sound of a million souls in agony. “I will not be thwarted again. Though it will task my powers of attrition and decay, I will take all of you, shoe and giant, apprentice and ferret!” He smiled fiercely as he looked at all the living. “Prepare to die!”
“See?” a voice called overhead, accompanied by the heavy flapping of dragon’s wings. “I knew with all that noise, there had to be something interesting happening.”
“Yeah!” a woman’s voice answered. “And Wuntie’s here, too!”
There was a small popping sound close to my foot. “Hey!” a tiny voice said. “That explosion was almost louder than Brownie Power!”
“Nooooooo!” Death wailed, the sound of a hurricane laying waste to everything in its path. And then the spectre was gone as well.
“No, no, no, no, no!” Mother Duck rushed into our midst, followed closely by Jeffrey the Wolf. “This has gotten totally out of hand!”
“Well,” Jeffrey added, “if you just would have taken my simple suggestions about the use of wolves ...”
“I don’t want to hear any more from you, either,” she snapped. “I had no idea, in dealing with the Eternal Apprentice, how complicated things could become!” She paused to smile. “Now, though, that I see the scope of the situation, I can really put you in a fairy tale!”
“Indeed,” I said, stepping forward. “I think not.” I found I had a new confidence, now that my master was here. “We have ways of dealing with you.”
“Oh, really?” Mother Duck replied, already humbled by these new circumstances. “And what might they be?”
I waved behind me. “Well, for example, take a look at this shoe.”
Mother Duck frowned. “What shoe? Are you standing on it or something? Shoes aren’t all that big, you know.”
What did she mean, “What shoe”? Was this one of Mother Duck’s tricks? I spun around.
There was no longer a shoe behind me. In fact, the enormous footwear was nowhere to be seen.
My master was gone.
When you wish upon a star.
Wish for song and dance, and you’ll go far.
The Damsel and Dragon Songbook (still seeking publication)
“There, there, now,” Mother Duck spoke soothingly to my confusion. “I’m not surprised that you are a little addled, not after all that has happened. Don’t worry, Mother Duck will not be cross with you. Especially since you have to work again so soon.”
“Doom!” a deep voice echoed through the trees. “What have I missed?”
Mother Duck sighed as Hendrek bounded into our midst. “Apparently, everybody in the immediate vicinity will be arriving here shortly. I am quite in awe of the drawing power of the Eternal Apprentice.” She patted me graciously on top of the head. “I’ve never gotten to use the spectre of Death in one of my fairy stories before. It’s very impressive, the supporting cast that comes with you. And how you get out of these things!
Someday, you’ll have to explain to me exactly how you made that sound.”
It occurred to me then that Mother Duck did not know about my master’s arrival. Perhaps it was best kept secret, at least for now.
“Indeed,” I said at last, for I felt the old woman expected an answer. “Perhaps I shall, when I am given more control over my own destiny.”
“Oh, but I have been giving you more control.” Mother Duck grinned congenially at me. “You and your companions had been fighting against me for so long, I decided to loosen the reins a wee bit. And when I did, I was rewarded by the occurrence of even wilder events. Of course, .those events were almost completely out of hand, but we can fix that when we fine-tune the fairy tale later.”
“Fine tune?” I asked, being unfamiliar with the term.
Mother Duck nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a phrase we use in the fairy tale business. Fine-tune—fine-tuning—“ She looked heavenward, as if searching for the precise words. “Yes, you know, improvements we add to the fairy tale as we continue to rehearse it, over and over, until we get it just right. It’s going to take a bit longer than usual with all the variables. Still, I think thirty or forty run throughs should start us in the right direction.”
“Thirty or forty?” I asked, afraid to further inquire just what constituted a “run through.”
“Doom,” Hendrek added.
“See how much easier it all becomes when you cooperate?” Mother Duck enthused. “With my fairy tale experience, and the incredible number of things that happen to you, I think we can make storytelling history here. That is why I gave you your own way a little more as we went along, while of course still supervising the action in case I might again need to take control.”
My own way? Taking control? Now that she mentioned it, I remembered how odd I had felt trying to escape the giant, as if I was somehow reading or hearing a story, rather than participating in it. It was only when I once again confronted Death that I truly felt my destiny once more under my own power.
Now, I realized that my taking charge of my own life was but a happy accident, and one that Mother Duck would soon rectify so that I might repeat the events of the past few hours another three dozen times. I also realized, with a new clarity, how important it was for Norei and Ebenezum to rescue me. If something didn’t happen soon, I feared that I would spend the rest of my existence doomed to constantly relive a fairy tale full of seven Brownie wishes.
“It’s about time we found you guys!” an incredibly grating voice called out as the three demons, who had apparently left their fairy tale bonnets and seaweed wigs behind, emerged from the trees.
“Might I make a suggestion?” Snarks called out as the three approached. “If you’re going to blow up something to get our attention, next time why don’t you do it a little closer to civilization?”
Get their attention? It was only there, in the midst of the crowd, that I realized my master’s true intention in conjuring up the thunderstorm. Not to defeat Death with the lightning, but rather to overwhelm him with the crowd that would be attracted by the sound. I marveled at my master’s foresight. He truly was the greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms! I wondered in what clever way he would strike next.
Snarks looked around at the dead and broken trees. “Boy, you sure can pick some scenic spots to hold a meeting. Reminds me of some of the prime areas of the Netherhells; you know, urban renewal zones, sites of major industrial accidents.”
“Begin!” Guxx Unfufadoo intoned. Brax hastily retrieved his drum from his ever-present sack.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, angered demon, Wants no more of fairy stories, Warns the Mother if she uses Demons more it will get gor—“
The large demon fell to the ground, overwhelmed by a sneezing fit.
“Such a shame,” Brax murmured as he watched his indis- posed leader roll about in the dust. “Such a natural rhyming talent, gone to waste.”
“What?” Mother Duck stared at the thrashing demon. “What is going on here?”
“Indeed,” I replied, trying to concoct a reasonable, but false, explanation. For it had occurred to me that not only did Mother Duck not know that my master, the great wizard Ebenezum, had magically traveled to her kingdom, she also did not know of my master’s malady, similar in nature to that of the sneezing demon now rolling about before us. “Indeed,” I therefore repeated, stalling for time. “Alas—uh—the poor demon tends to sneeze—uh—when he is—uh—overwrought.”
“Really?” Mother Duck marveled. “From what I have seen, I thought he spent his entire life being overwrought. Still, that is useful information. I may be able to use it in one of my fairy tales.”
“Indeed,” I added for a final time. I looked about at my companions, urging them to complicity in my deceit. While the situation seemed to make the truth-telling Snarks uncomfortable, both Brax and Hubert nodded knowingly.
“What the demon needs to do is relax!” the dragon announced. “And what better way to relax than appreciating song and dance! Hit it, damsel! Number 703!”
“Always a winner!” Alea agreed. She made gentle shooing motions with her hands. “If all you folks would give me a little space to perform?”
“Wait a second,” Mother Duck protested. “This is not what I had in mind.”
But the damsel had already launched into song:
“Do you have a friend who’s feeling down? Who’s cold and has a chill? If you need a cure to come around That’s better than a pill Good song and dance then must be found And Damsel and Dragon will!”
Mother Duck looked from the performers to me, her gaze an odd mix of disbelief and nausea. “They do this sort of thing all the time, don’t they?”
“Indeed,” I answered, this time truthfully.
“Pardon us.”
I looked down to see that we had been joined by Smarmy and his fellow dwarves, who had entered our group unnoticed, thanks to the nearby performance.
Smarmy wrung his hands as he looked up apologetically. “We thought we were coming to rescue someone—“ He glanced apprenhensively at the dancing dragon “—but maybe we should have stayed away.”
I sympathized with the dwarf, for at that moment, Damsel and Dragon began another verse.
“Do you know someone who’s feeling low, Near the end of his life span? And they need a pick-me-up to go So they don’t feel like an also-ran? They need song and dance that’s fast, not slow And Damsel and Dragon can!”
“We came out of the woods for this?” Nasty complained.
“Pay no attention,” Snooty admonished. “ Tis naught but entertainment for the rabble.”
Sickly coughed contemptuously.
“Hey!” the Brownie demanded. “Who are you calling rabble?”
“Not me!” Touchy insisted.
“Although Jie would have if he’d thought of it!” Nasty sneered.
Dumpy moaned in agreement.
“What’s going on here?” Snarks demanded, stepping between Tap and the dwarves. “Did I hear someone criticizing the dancers?”
“Do you hear anyone not criticizing the dancers?” Nasty retorted.
“Oh, wow,” Spacey agreed.
“They were making fun of us, too!” Tap interjected. “They called us rabble!” He stopped for an instant, so upset he could barely breathe. “They’re making fun of Brownie Power!”
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked as he pushed his great bulk amidst the throng. “Is someone here causing trouble?”
“I suppose you never cause trouble!” Touchy demanded. “I suppose you never criticize anybody!”
Tap and Hendrek both looked at Snarks.
“Well, it’s different for me,” the truth-telling demon replied hurriedly. “And look, a little constructive criticism never hurt anybody. So I get to call them awful once in a while. They’re my companions, after all. They expect it of me!”
“Doom,” Hendrek added. “It pays to be polite.”
Tap nodded. “That’s what Brownie Power’s all about!”
Nasty looked to his fellows. “So that means we have to be polite to this rabble?”
Snarks stared grimly at the upstart drawf as Hendrek hefted his club and Tap did a few tentative dance steps.
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked.
Brax stepped between the combatants. “Pardon me for butting in, but is anyone here in the market for a previously owned weapon?”
But just then, Damsel and Dragon launched into another verse:
“So if you know someone who’s feeling bad, And you want to make them well, We’ve got an answer, so don’t be sad, For soon they’ll be feeling swell! Song and dance’11 be the best time they ever had, And Damsel and Dragon shall!”
Guxx’s sneezes redoubled as he rolled about in the dirt.
“Do you have the feeling this is getting out of hand?” Mother Duck inquired.
I did not answer her for fear that, if I agreed, she would again put us all under her spell.
“Perhaps this is too big a challenge for me, after all,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. “Perhaps I’d be better restricting my fairy tales to golden geese and blind mice?”
Alea began an elaborate tap dance across Hubert’s wings.
“If only I liked my name better,” the old woman continued. “Having a name like Mother Duck sometimes causes one to lose confidence. But I’ve told you about that, haven’t I?”
The Seven Other Dwarves and my companions in the quest glowered at each other.
“Oh, yeah?” the dwarves shouted.
“Doom,” my companions replied.
The situation was getting tenser by the minute. But if I asked Mother Duck to intervene, she would control us all, robbing me of my free will!
“Mother Robin?” the old woman mused, then shook her head. “Entirely too singsong. How about Mother Bluebird?” She pursed her lips, then frowned. “Too much alliteration. Mother Red-Winged Blackbird?” She sighed. “Altogether too long. How would they fit in on my books? Oh, I know I shouldn’t grouse—wait a minute, that’s not bad at all.” She looked at me in triumph. “Mother Grouse! Well, perhaps it’s not perfect, but it certainly sounds better than Mother Duck, don’t you think?”
“Indeed,” I replied, mostly to keep the conversation going. Mother Duck seemed to handle chaos badly; it was also the only time she chose to talk to me. I had failed before in persuading her to join our cause. I wondered if there might be some other way I could turn this situation to my advantage.
Damsel and Dragon had slowed their dance to a shuffle.
“Tell me, Damsel,” Hubert began.
“Yes, Dragon?” Alea answered.
“How do my fellow lizards build their homes?” the dragon asked.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Damsel chorused. “With Rep-Tiles!”
“But I understand you can really swing,” Alea continued after the groans had subsided.
Hubert wiggled his posterior. “Sure can. But that’s another tail altogether!”
The crowd reaction to that one was even worse.
“But enough of clever patter!” Hubert shouted over the din. “Now here’s a number that really makes me want to shed my skin!”
“I think not!” Mother Duck exclaimed, raising both her hands. “No, this is too much. Total confusion is one thing. That I can handle. The way chaos constantly settles around the Eternal Apprentice is interesting, to say the least. Vaudeville humor, on the other hand—“ She did not quite suppress a shudder. “I’d better put everyone back under my power before something else happens.”
Jeffrey the Wolf waved his green cap at the old woman. “May I make a suggestion?”
Mother Duck sighed. “If you must.”
“You worry about your fairy tales becoming too chaotic,” Jeffrey added quickly. “Well, I have a solution to your problems.” He thumped his chest for emphasis. “We talking wolves are fairy tale professionals! Just put me in your next story, and my tried and true enchanted tale experience will guarantee a classic!”
“Perhaps,” the old woman said warily.
“You won’t be sorry,” Jeffrey promised.
“Mother Duck is never sorry. But you might be.” She shook her head smartly, as if the contents needed to be slightly rearranged. “All right,” she agreed wearily. “Heaven knows I’ve tried everything else.”
She surveyed the whole group before her. “Now, everyone repeat after me: Once upon—“
The earth began to shake. We all backed away quickly as a crevice yawned in our midst. As usual, there was a cloud of dust, and when it cleared, we saw a table with five demons.
“We’ve got you now!” the gavel demon cried in triumph.
It was the Netherhells again.
“Guxx Vnfufadoo, concerned demon.
Asks you why you read quotations,
When you know Wuntvor’s in danger;
Says you should get on with chapter!”
The preceding was provided by The Equal Time for Demons Act, Vushta common law 77034 (recently repealed)
“This time,” Mother Duck remarked, “you’re in trouble.”
All five demons caught sight of the angry old woman. All five demons blanched noticeably.
“Oh, dear!” the gavel demon exclaimed, attempting a smile. “We’ve made a mistake, haven’t we?”
Mother Duck nodded. “Your last mistake.”
“But we were sure this was Vushta!” the small, sickly demon at the end broke in.
“Maybe it’s Vushta in disguise!” another committee member suggested.
“Yeah!” the demon in the flowered hat added. “Maybe
Mother Duck is in league with the wizards!”
“How dare you suggest such a thing?”
The demons all looked up, startled at Mother Duck’s tone, for her voice had slid from heated anger to coldest rage.
“What do you think of me?” the old woman continued. “Consorting with wizards? From Vushta? What sort of a person do you think I am? Next, you’ll have me taking tea with one of those grubby mages from the Western Kingdoms!”
The demons all began to talk at once.
“Oh no, Mother Duck.”
“So sorry, Mother Duck.”
“How could we have been so tactless as to make that mistake. Mother Duck?”
“You are demons,” the old woman reminded them. “It is in your nature. What I cannot excuse, however, is your trespassing once again in the Eastern Kingdoms!”
“But the magic, Mother Duck—“
“It led us here, Mother Duck—“
“Oh, this is embarrassing,” the gavel demon interjected. “Here we are, an elite corps of Netherhells mercenaries, and we can’t even find Vushta. You’d think there’d be some magical activity going on there, wouldn’t you? It is Vushta, after all. I mean, how else are they going to get those forbidden delights?”
“I am not interested in your problems,” Mother Duck replied. “My only concern is that you are here again, interfering with the order of my fairy stories! If you cannot tell the difference between fairy magic and wizard magic, well—“ She glanced meaningfully at Richard. “—I think it might be time to bake some bread.”
“But Mother Duck, there was—“
“—Definite wizard magic, Mother Duck--.”
“Please, Mother Duck, any demon can tell the difference between wizard magic and fairy tale magic!”
“What?” Mother Duck demanded. “Wizard magic? In my kingdom? Well, my demon committee, if what you say is true, you may have earned yourself a reprieve. Richard?”
“Oops!” the giant replied. “Didn’t see that crevice there. I almost tripped. What do you wish, Mother Duck?”
“Look about my kingdom. Do you see anything strange?
Anything that looks out of the ordinary? Anything that might be a wizard?”
The giant shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun and looked east. “No, nothing there.” He looked south. “No, nothing there, either.”
He turned about to look north. “Oops. Darn it. I wish they wouldn’t grow those trees so close together. But there’s nothing out here, either.”
At last, he turned west. “No, there’s nothing this way, either. Well, there’s that giant shoe, but that doesn’t look anything like a wizard.”
“Pardon!” Mother Duck peered up at the giant.
“It’s a shoe,” Richard repeated. “A very large shoe.” He knelt down to touch his own. “Not as big as mine, maybe—“
He swung his shoe forward so that Mother Duck could get a better view. “Oops! Well, we probably didn’t need that hill there, anyway. But it’s still a pretty big shoe.”
“Really?” Mother Duck stared thoughtfully at the committee. “I haven’t made any giant shoes, at least not recently. Demons, you are correct. There is wizardry afoot!”
The five demons all fell to their knees.
“Thank you, Mother Duck!”
“Bless you, Mother Duck!”
“We knew you could recognize the truth, Mother Duck!”
At the moment, Mother Duck was content to watch the demons grovel, but I had to use the brief respite to think. My master had come to the Eastern Kingdoms to save me, but he had already been discovered by Mother Duck. Even worse, I had heard what she thought of western wizards. If she cornered the shoe, I knew my master was in real trouble! There had to be some way I could distract her and stop her from investigating.
“Indeed,” I began, trying desperately to think of something that might delay her.
Mother Duck glanced down at me, a bit surprised. “Oh that’s right! I haven’t completed my controlling spell. Well, why don’t you just sit here for a bit, like a good pawn, while I take care of this little difficulty?”
She turned back to the giant. “Richard, what say we visit this big new shoe?”
“Oops!” Richard replied.
Mother Duck scowled. “What’s the matter now?”
The giant cowered at her tone. “The shoe is gone, Mother Duck. It is no longer on the western hill.”
“A phantom shoe?” She rubbed her chin in thought. “How interesting. Perhaps we have an adversary worthy of Mother Duck. For I have a feeling we will be seeing that shoe again.”
She turned back to the committee. “The information you’ve given me will be very useful. In fact, it will guarantee your continued existence. But make no mistakes! The Eastern Kingdoms are off limits to the Netherhells, now and forever. Come back again, and no excuse will be good enough!”
The five demons shouted assent as they pushed their table back toward the crevice.
“Yes, Mother Duck.”
“Certainly, Mother Duck.”
“Your mercy is astounding, Mother Duck.”
“And what will happen to you if you come back?” She looked about at the rest of us, then smiled at the demons. “I don’t really want to upset the others. I’ll come over and describe it in detail.”
“Must you, Mother Duck?”
“Can’t we leave it up to our imagination, Mother Duck?”
‘The last group you warned is still under the finest mental care the Netherhells can provide, Mother Duck.”
But the old woman would not be stopped. She marched over to the committee and addressed them in low tones. An occasional word or two drifted my way on the breeze:
“... pummel . . . dice . . . bake . . . julienne . . .”
“Pardon me,” a voice said at my hip, “but can we talk?”
I looked down to see Smarmy wringing his hands.
“Indeed,” I answered.
“Good,” Smarmy replied, nodding toward his fellow dwarves, who had gathered in a semicircle around us. “Some of us, humble as we are, feel that it was only because you threw your lot in with us that you got captured by Mother Duck. We sort of got you into this and well, we’d like to get you out.”
“Indeed?” I responded. “Do you have a plan?”
“Well, no,” Smarmy admitted. “Not precisely. But, since it seems that Mother Duck is never going to use us again in her fairy tales, we have a lot of time on our hands. We’ll come up with something.”
“Yeah!” Nasty agreed. “Anything to get rid of those friends of yours!”
“That’s correct,” Snooty asserted. “The neighborhood used to be so nice, before you moved in.”
Dumpy moaned. Sickly coughed. Noisy dropped something. So the dwarves were all in agreement.
“And I mean it this time!” Mother Duck called after the retreating demons. Calls of “Yes, Mother Duck!”—“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Mother Duck!” and suchlike rose through the cloud of dust.
But I had other things to consider. The Seven Other Dwarves were going to help us escape. As were Norei, and His Brow-nieship, and the unicorn, and my master, the great wizard Ebenezum. Perhaps our situation was not as bleak as it seemed. With all these allies, our escape plans could not possibly fail. Could they?
But then there was Death. Somehow, the spectre had developed an obsession with me, and if I was ever left truly alone, whether I was under Mother Duck’s control or not, I knew that Death would find me. Perhaps my master would find me, too, and rescue me again before the spectre could take me to his kingdom. That is, if my master could continue to elude Mother Duck’s grasp. I sighed. Why did life have to be so complicated?
If only, I thought, I could keep some shred of self-control under Mother Duck’s spell. I considered Norei’s message, something about remembering three words: Happily ever after. I whispered them to myself now, as if they might be an antidote for what was to come.
“And now,” Mother Duck remarked as she turned back to the rest of us, “what to do with all of you? For I think I was a trifle hasty a moment ago, when I tried to put you back into my spell. We need to consider a few things if we are going to create my masterpiece!”
She pointed at Hubert. “Firstly, I have insubordination to deal with. Perhaps the dragon did not recall certain prohibitions
I made about singing in my presence?”
“Oh, that?” Hubert did his best to laugh jovially. “ ‘Twas but the theater in my blood, bubbling over. You know what they say: Gotta sing, gotta dance?”
Mother Duck frowned at the dragon. “No one has ‘gotta do’ anything in my domain, at least anything that I do not decree. Therefore, as long as you are in my kingdoms, you will never speak again.” She snapped her fingers three times.
“But it was only my acting exuberan—“ Hubert’s nostrils shook, smoke coining from his mouth and ears. “—urrgghh—but I mean—grahhh—couldn’t you—unhhh.” And the dragon was silent.
Mother Duck turned to Alea. “Be thankful that I need you to speak in your fairy tale role, or you would share your companion’s fate. I mean, ‘Damsel and Dragon shall’? There is only so much a professional storyteller can stand.”
Alea looked up at Hubert, who kept opening and closing his mouth, all in the complete absence of sound.
“Yes, Mother Duck,” she said nervously.
“Good,” the old woman replied. “Then let that be a lesson to you all. Mother Duck must be obeyed!”
“Yes, Mother Duck,” a number of my company replied quickly.
“Now, let’s get on to specifics,” she continued, satisfied with the response. “Mr. Wolf, you have volunteered your services?”
Jeffrey replied that he had.
“Well, that’s fine, except—You don’t want to do the one about the red riding hood, do you?” Mother Duck said with obvious distaste.
“Certainly not, Mother Duck,” Jeffrey reassured her. “I have another story with even more drama, and an even bigger part for talking wolves.”
The old woman nodded. “You never miss an opportunity. This should be interesting. In addition, I anticipate using all our characters this time—that might change your story a bit. And, as always, I will be supervising the action. I trust now that everybody understands their function?”
“Yes, Mother Duck,” came the chorused reply.
“Good.” She smiled. “That’s what I like. One happy family. Jeffrey, if I might speak with you for a minute?”
“Excuse us, Mother Duck,” the Seven Other Dwarves chorused in turn.
“Yes?” she answered, her expression halfway between annoyance and amusement.
“Pardon us for interrupting,” Smarmy replied, “but did we hear you say that everyone will have a part?”
“Certainly.” Mother Duck was all smiles again. “Oh dear, I have been ignoring you, my dwarves, what with all this new blood. Don’t worry. You’ll have a very important part.”
“A very important part?” Snooty sniffed.
“Oh, wow,” Spacey commented while Noisy cheered.
Mother Duck nodded at the wolf. “Jeffrey, if you don’t mind?” The two of them retreated behind a stand of dead trees and conversed in hushed tones.
“Indeed,” I whispered to Smarmy. “We must plan now. I fear our time is running out.”
“Plan?” Smarmy chirped. “What do we need to plan? We’ve got a part!”
“A very important part!” Snooty added.
“You remember,” I insisted. “What we w;re just talking about. My escape!”
“Escape?” Smarmy said the word as if he had never heard it before. “Oh, that. Well, I think escapes will simply have to wait. That is, unless they’re part of the fairy story.”
“A very important part!” Snooty elucidated.
“Indeed,” I replied. Apparently, my escape plans had received a temporary setback. Now that the dwarves were included in Mother Duck’ s plans, they could think of nothing else.
“It will make a great beginning!” Mother Duck announced, shooing Jeffrey the Wolf back into our midst. She waved to the rest of us. “I will leave you a few moments of peace as I return to my hilltop observatory.”
This time, Mother Duck marched off alone.
Jeffrey wore a big, wolfish grin as he walked toward us.
“This is going to be great,” he assured us. “I tell you, we’re going to see talking wolves like they’ve never been seen before!”
“Tell me,” Brax inquired. “Have you ever considered a future selling used weapons? Franchises are available.”
But I had no time for idle chatter. The fairy story would once again begin in earnest. I repeated the words Norei had given me, hoping against hope that they held some power:
“Happily ever after. Happily ever after. Once upon a time.”
Everyone said that last sentence in unison with me.
Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you, if you’re stuck in Mother Duck’s kingdom.
Some Notes on Apprenticeship, by Wuntvor, Apprentice to Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
(a work in progress)
Once upon a time there was a lad named Wuntvor, who had two good friends. One of the friends was large, both in height and width, and always carried an equally large club. The other friend, however, was just plain small, and tended to talk a lot about shoes. Still, the three of them got along famously, except for an argument here and there.
One day, Wuntvor remarked: “I heard there is a wolf skulking about the neighborhood.”
“Doom,” his large friend, whose name was Hendrek, replied. “You worry too much about these things.”
“That’s right!” the small fellow, who was known as Tap, chimed in. “Why worry about wolves when you can talk about shoes!”
Wuntvor thought the two of them were probably right. It was such a fine, sunny day, after all, and Tap could speak for hours about the intricacies of eyelet placement.
“Still,” the lad said to the others, “you can’t be too careful about these sorts of things. It is best to take precautions.”
The other two laughed at his serious nature on such a sunny day, and went on to talk of other things. But little did any of them know that they were being watched at that very moment by the very wolf Wuntvor had mentioned!
Yum-yum, thought the wolf, whose name was Jeffrey. What tasty morsels these three would make. True, the little fellow would serve as not much more than an appetizer, but the enormous one could feed him for a week. And as for the young lad, well the wolf thought he just might be the right age and tenderness to make the most wonderful meal imaginable. Perhaps sauteed would be best, the wolf thought. But he had to be careful, for if he became too excited by the thought of his impending dinners he might reveal himself prematurely, and thus waste that all important element of surprise.
“Well,” Wuntvor said at last, “it certainly has been pleasant whiling away an hour with the two of you, but I think it’s time we got back to work.”
“Doom,” Hendrek agreed.
“Watch out for skulking wolves!” Tap cried over his shoulder with a laugh.
And then Wuntvor’s two friends left and went their separate ways, for all three were in the construction business, and by odd coincidence, all of them were working on new homes for themselves.
Ah, thought the wolf. This is better than ever. Divide and conquer is always the best strategy. I shall pick them off one by one, and have enough tasty morsels to last me for weeks.
But where to start? The wolf frowned for a moment, but the answer was obvious. You always ate the appetizer before the main course. With that in mind, the hungry wolf skulked after the little fellow.
Jeffrey soon came to the edge of a clearing. He carefully hid in the bushes and watched the little fellow for a moment as Tap casually put the finishing touches on his house.
“I think the big boot should go here,” Tap said to himself, placing an enormous brown boot at the peak of the roof. “And I can use these ten pairs of sandals as a walkway.”
The wolf squinted to get a better look at the little fellow’s handiwork, for the house he was building was different from any Jeffrey had ever seen. To call the structure ramshackle would be kind, for the house seemed to be made from hundreds or even thousands of small brown and black objects with all sorts of tones and textures. It took the wolf a long moment to determine the building material, for it was too dark to be mud, and too smooth to be brick.
And then he realized that the house was made entirely out of shoes.
Jeffrey the wolf was taken aback for a moment or two. Shoes? How could you make a house out of shoes? Not very well, was the only answer he could come up with. But then, the little fellow’s badly built house fit right in with the hungry wolfs dining plans, for, when Jeffrey confronted Tap, the small one would have no safe place to go to.
The wolf skulked silently from his hiding place.
“Oh, a boot goes here,” Tap sang to himself, “a slipper there, boot here, slipper there, shoes shoes everywhere—Who are you?”
Tap had seen the wolf! Jeffrey, however, put on his very best smile and stood up somewhat straighter than his skulking position.
“Hello, neighbor!” Jeffrey said cordially. “I just thought I’d drop by to admire this house you’re building.”
The little fellow beamed at that. “Yes, it is a fine house, is it not? Built of the finest shoe leather available.”
“No doubt,” the wolf replied, but he looked at Tap and not the house. Yes, he was quite sure of it now. He would be able to swallow the little fellow in a single gulp, perhaps after dipping him in a suitable sauce. Now, if only Tap did not move for another moment.
“What are you doing?” Tap demanded.
“Why, looking at your fine house,” the wolf replied innocently.
“You were not!” the wee one insisted. “You were skulking!
My friend Wuntvor warned me about creatures who skulk! And you’re a wolf besides!”
And with that, Tap ran inside the house and slammed the door.
Jeffrey chuckled to himself. He was not upset in the least. In fact, the wolf always loved this part best of all. He removed his cap, cleared his throat, and said in a loud voice:
“You should let me in and I’ll know what to do!”
But Tap replied:
“Not by the laces of my shoesy-shoo-shoes!”
Jeffrey grinned even wider, and added:
‘Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll bloooow your house down!”
The wolf took a very deep breath, inhaling for fully half a minute. Then, with lungs bursting, he positioned his snout for the very best velocity and trajectory, and blew. The ensuing gale easily destroyed Tap’s house of shoes.
“Buckles and laces!” the little fellow exclaimed. “What have you done?”
Jeffrey’s grin was so wide now that it showed every one of his long, pointed teeth. “Just gotten a little obstacle out of the way, so that we can get down to the serious business of dinner-time!”
“Oh, no you don’t!” And the little fellow began to dance. And the fallen shoes around him began to dance as well, leaping higher and higher into the air. And closer and closer to the wolf, Jeffrey noticed in alarm. He backed away, but the shoes were faster. They jumped all about him, raining down on him in a merciless mass of shoe leather. The wolf fell to the ground, covering his head as best he could.
It seemed like hours before the footwear stopped moving. Jeffrey groaned as he climbed out of the pile of shoes. Something, it seemed, had gone wrong. He couldn’t remember the story going this way. He moved a particularly nasty mound of boots away from his face, gasping for air. But he forgot to breathe, for the first thing he saw above the pile was another shoe, far bigger than all the rest, big enough even for a man or a wolf to hide inside.
“Indeed,” the shoe remarked.
Jeffrey fell backward in alarm, slipping down again into the loose jumble of footwear. He struggled back to the surface quickly, but when he once again broke free of the sea of soles and heels, the giant shoe was gone.
It must have been some sort of hallucination, Jeffrey rationalized. It was all perfectly explainable. It was some sort of reaction to being attacked by so much footwear. After all, what other reason would there be for a shoe of that size to even exist? The wolf decided he was better off not even thinking about it.
But the little fellow had escaped as well. And the wolf realized, now that he had started thinking about food, that he was ravenously hungry. Whose house should he blow down next? With an appetite like his, there was really no choice.
“Once upon a time,” the wolf whispered, and went about his work.
If anything, Jeffrey the Wolf was even hungrier now. It was making him lose his judgment. He had startled a unicom just beyond the house he sought, and the wolf hadn’t even thought to chase it. But the unicom no longer mattered, for Jeffrey had at last located the object of his desire, a meal large enough to sate even his enormous appetite.
“Doom doom,” Hendrek hummed tunelessly as he built a wall out of what seemed to be random objects, although many of them were long and shiny. “Doom-de-doom-doom-doom.”
It was then that the wolf realized that Hendrek was not alone. Well, Jeffrey thought, all well and good, for every diet needs a little variety. Or at least he thought that until he got a good look at the assistant, who was busy handing Hendrek his building materials. The other fellow was short and squat, and sort of an unhealthy grayish-green in color, besides which he had the most horrendous taste in clothes imaginable, wearing some-sort of orange and purple checked coat. Perhaps, the ravenous beast considered, the large fellow would be more than enough for dinner. After all, even a wolf as hungry as Jeffrey had some standards.
The wolf left the concealing bushes to get closer to the object of his hunger.
“Doom,” Hendrek noted. “We have a visitor.”
His assistant looked up. “Oh, you mean that guy skulking over there?”
Jeffrey chose to ignore that remark, instead standing up straight and doffing his cap.
“And a good day to you, too, neighbors,” he greeted them cheerily. “What a fine house you are building!”
“Doom,” Hendrek agreed.
“Made out of the finest previously-owned materials available,” the incredibly ugly assistant added. “My previously owned materials.”
“Doom,” Hendrek replied, lifting an imposing looking warclub.
“Of course, most certainly!” Brax added hurriedly. “We have an arrangement.”
“Doom.” Hendrek nodded. “The arrangement is he lends me his previously owned materials, or I use Headbasher.”
The wolf nodded pleasantly, although he was not really listening. Instead, he wondered what would be just the right method of attack to quickly subdue this large and certainly tasty Hendrek. Perhaps, Jeffrey decided at last, if he strolled around a bit behind him. He pictured the large fellow coated with a thin honey glaze.
“There he goes,” the assistant remarked, “skulking again.”
“Doom,” the large fellow added, “he also appears to be a wolf.”
“Are you going to hold something as small as that against me?” Jeffrey tried to smile innocently.
“You know, Hendy baby,” the assistant replied as he looked closely at the wolfs long and pointed teeth, “perhaps it’s time we went and worked on the interior of the house, with the front door securely closed and locked?”
“Doom,” Hendrek agreed.
The two of them retreated inside. But all the wolf did was smile even more, for they had gotten to his favorite part of the story once again. He took a deep breath and called out:
“Come on and let me into your front room!”
But Hendrek boomed back:
“Not by the hair of my doom-de-doom-doom!”
Jeffrey chuckled. Now was the moment for the really good part. And this time, there weren’t any of those nasty shoes around here to ruin it for him.
He took a bigger breath: “Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll bloooooow your house down!” And he took the biggest breath he possibly could, feeling as though his lungs would burst right through his hairy chest. He quickly positioned his snout once again for maximum effect, and blew.
Hendrek’s house didn’t stand a chance. It came apart with a clatter. Hundreds of shiny things flew into the air.
And then they started to fall down. Jeffrey looked up in the sky and realized with a horrible sickening certainty exactly what Hendrek had built his house with. For spread overhead, but descending quickly, were spears and arrows and knives and scimitars and broadswords, and any number of other long, sharp and pointy things.
And they all seemed to be falling toward Jeffrey.
The previously owned objects Hendrek had built his house with were all weapons. What sort of person built a house out of weapons? By now, Jeffrey was quite certain this was not the way the story was supposed to go. But he was even more certain that if he stood his ground he would be skewered at least a dozen times.
Jeffrey ran back into the woods with a howl. The wolf knew he would have to look elsewhere for dinner. But it would be the tenderest dinner of all.
Wuntvor worked diligently on his sturdy, new brick house. As nice as it was to discuss shoes and the issues of the day with his two good friends, it was even nicer to be alone for a change.
But wasn’t the day growing suddenly cold? Perhaps it was only that chill wind that had sprung up so suddenly. It was an amazingly ferocious breeze, stripping the leaves from the surrounding trees. Wuntvor was glad he would soon have a nice, warm house to protect him from the weather. And then he heard another sound, a dry, hollow chuckle, as cold in its way as the wind that had preceded it. Wuntvor looked up. He thought he saw a dark figure walking between the trees.
Was someone coming?
There is another saying among those mages I am always talking about: “If a man can stand tall and proud, he will not be afraid.” And perhaps there is some truth in this statement, for if a man can stand tall and proud, with a good weapon or two in his hands, a trusted banishment spell upon his lips, and his back against the wall, then his fear might diminish considerably. Even better is the scenario where he has two or three hundred trusted allies at his side, a nearby trap door for hasty escapes, and no enemy approaching for miles around. It gets better still when you add a tidy sum stashed away in a handy retirement account, the love of a good woman and a hiding place that no one else has discovered in hundreds of years. Under such circumstances, fear could conceivably be controlled. But don’t count on it.
The Teachings of Ebenezum, VOLUME LV
Wuntvor was suddenly afraid. There was something about this sort of weather, something about that mysterious figure, that he should remember. Everything around him seemed like ice.
Even his clothes were cold against his body.
Somebody coughed.
Wuntvor jumped. There was a rustling in the bushes.
“Oh, wow,” another voice said.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” yet another voice demanded. “It’s getting cold out here!”
“Beg pardon?” Wuntvor replied as eight fairly short men emerged from the shrubbery. He looked up as a distant scream echoed eerily through the forest, as if a hundred lost souls cried their death agonies. But then the day warmed again as suddenly as it had cooled, and the late afternoon sun once more shone through the treetops.
“Weird weather patterns you have around here,” one of the short fellows muttered as he wrung his hands. “But that’s not why we’re here.”
“Indeed?” Wuntvor replied, somewhat dubiously. “Have we met?”
“Must he always say that?” one of the dwarves complained.
“Don’t mind Touchy, there,” the hand-wringer quickly added. “You would recall us, if you were not under one of Mother Duck’s spells.”
“Indeed?” Wuntvor wasn’t really trying to comprehend what these short people were talking about. There was something about the cold wind and the mysterious figure which somehow seemed much more important.
“I’m sorry,” he added at last. “I don’t remember.”
“Of course not!” the hand-wringer agreed with him jovially. “You’re in a fairy tale. The very tale in which we have been promised a major role!”
“This doesn’t seem very major to me!” one of the others sniffed.
“Of course not, Snooty,” the hand-wringer answered. “Our major role hasn’t started yet. This is more of a cameo appearance.” He turned back to Wuntvor. “But, we came to admire your new home!” He added in a lower voice: “I’d introduce everybody, but what’s the use? The way things have been going lately, Mother Duck will have to start this whole thing over again in a minute, anyway.” He continued in his louder, more forceful conversational style: “My this certainly looks like a sturdy ho- se. We were awfully glad to get the opportunity to see it!” For some reason, the short fellow glanced at his wrist. “Look how late it’s gotten to be! Well, we have to run!”
The speaker waved as he and his fellows turned to go.
‘That’s it?” Wuntvor asked. “That’s all you came here to tell me?”
“Why, of course!” the hand-wringing fellow called back over his shoulder. “Still, if our appearance here serves to remind Mother Duck that we’re still around, eager to begin our part in this drama, that couldn’t hurt, either.”
“Wait a minute!” Wuntvor called, desperation rising in his voice. For he had suddenly remembered that that mysterious figure wanted to capture him, but could only do so if he was all alone.
“What is it this time?” one of the others barked.
“Um--,” Wuntvor fumbled, trying to think fast. “Wouldn’t you like to see the inside of my house?”
“If it’s as boring as the outside, no way!” the same fellow added. “It’s enough that we have to go along with Smarmy’s publicity ideas here—“
“But we all agreed--,” the hand-wringer interrupted.
“Only so that we didn’t have to put up with your whining—“
“Oh, wow.”
Somebody moaned. Somebody else coughed. A third somebody dropped something, very loudly.
“Oh, dear,” the hand-wringer said at last. “Well, if it’s that way, I’m afraid our humble selves really must be going.”
Then they were still leaving? Wuntvor fought a panic that seemed to sweep over him from nowhere. How could he make them understand?
“But I’m all alone!” he wailed.
The brashest of the fellows snickered. “Sure you’re all alone, except for that guy skulking over there in the bushes!”
The wolf stepped out from his hiding place. “Skulking? Me? Never. I just feel it is impolite to interrupt.”
All eight of the short fellows laughed as they walked away.
“Nevermind them,” the wolf scoffed. “I’ve come to look at your fine new home.”
Nevermind them? Wuntvor didn’t even understand them. He had no idea why those eight short fellows had shown up. “Once upon a time,” he muttered under his breath, turning his attention to the furry fellow with the green cap, who seemed quite a bit closer than the last time Wuntvor had looked. At this distance, he couldn’t help but notice the size of the beast’s incisors.
“Is something the matter?” the wolf inquired smoothly.
“Um--,” Wuntvor began, trying to phrase his observation as politely as possible. “My, what big teeth you have.”
The wolf shook his head peremptorily. “No, I’m sorry, that’s another fairy tale altogether.”
The lad looked down at the ground, trying to think of a suitable apology. But when he looked up again, the beast was almost on top of him.
The wolf licked his chops. “Speaking of appearances, you’d look particularly good in a light cream sauce.” The wolf wiggled its shaggy eyebrows. “But perhaps others have told you that.”
Wuntvor frowned. Come to think of it, somebody or other had told him that once, somewhere or other. Or at least Wuntvor thought they had. Didn’t he? But what did it all mean?
“Doom,” came a deep, booming voice from the bushes.
“You’d better watch out,” a much smaller and higher voice added. “Or it’ll be time for Brownie Power!”
The wolf frowned. This was definitely not the way this story was supposed to go. After all he’d promised Mother Duck, his fairy tale was getting out of hand as well.
“That’s right!” Wuntvor declared, as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. “That’s what you were doing when you snuck up on me. You were skulking!” He pointed at the beast’s open mouth. “That must mean that you’re the wolf!”
“Doom!” Hendrek exclaimed as he charged from the bushes, his warclub high above his head. Tap cheered from where he clung to the large fellow’s shoulder.
“Hey!” the wolf protested, covering his head. “Give a guy a break. I’m only trying to make a living!”
“Doom!” Hendrek replied, grabbing Wuntvor by his shirt. “Into the house!”
And the three friends ran inside, slamming the very heavy oak door behind them.
Jeffrey uncovered his head and stared at the thick door. This fairy tale had gotten so far off course that even he could barely recognize it. He decided not to even try the next part, with the huffing and puffing. The wolf was a realist, after all. He knew all about his luck with brick houses.
But there were other ways of getting food. The wolf laughed ruefully at the closed doors. All right, my dinner delicacies, he thought. If that’s the way you want it, that’s the way it’s going to be.
They had tricked him with houses made of shoes and weapons. Well, there was more than one way to end a fairy tale. He’d show them that a wolf could improvise as well!
And with that, the wolf skulked back into the forest.
In the meantime, the three friends huddled within Wuntvor’s brick house.
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked. “Isn’t it a little dark in here?”
“Yeah!” Tap added. “The only light’s coming from that little hole overhead!”
“Indeed.” Wuntvor looked up at the small portal that still showed the early evening sky. “That is the only part of my house that I haven’t finished.”
“Doom,” Hendrek commented. “Don’t you think you should have put in windows?”
Wuntvor considered, then shook his head, a motion that was almost lost in the gathering gloom. “Windows wouldn’t have been wolfproof. I had a singleness of purpose when I built this house. Still, this place isn’t much good for anything but hiding, is it?”
They opened the door and peered out. The sun had sunk far below the trees, and deep shadows stretched across Wuntvor’s lawn, as if the night had already claimed the ground and was working on the sky. It was difficult to see anything in the gathering dusk, but they all heard a great crashing and tearing that was coming closer.
“Doom,” Hendrek whispered. “What could that be?”
“Indeed,” Wuntvor added. “It doesn’t sound like a wolf.”
Tap jumped boldly from Hendrek’s shoulder. “I am small and will be difficult to see in the shadows. I will go investigate.”
And before either of his friends could protest, he was gone.
The crashing grew louder still, and was accompanied by bestial laughter.
“Tap?” Wuntvor called softly into the night. “Can you see anything? Is there something we should do?”
The little fellow’s answer was to run back inside and hide behind the lad’s leg.
“Close the door!” Tap yelled. “Close the door!”
“But what did you see?” Wuntvor inquired.
“Big . . .” the little fellow gasped. “Scaly . . . Fire-breathing
“Doom,” Hendrek rumbled. “The wolf has brought a dragon.”
“A dragon?” Wuntvor wondered. “What could he do—“
But his conjecture was cut short by the wolf’s call:
“Open your door or I’ll vent my frustration!”
“Indeed?” Wuntvor whispered to the others. “Maybe this isn’t as bad as we think. Maybe there’s some way we can talk this out.” He called back to the wolf:
“Is this request open to negotiation?”
The wolf could barely restrain his laughter as he yelled: “Then we’ll huff and we’ll puff and we’ll bllloooooowww your house down!”
“Duck!” Wuntvor called as a great roaring sound came from without.
Wuntvor and the others fell to the earthen floor, covering their heads to protect them from flying bricks. But the house was so well put together that the dragon’s breath picked it up as a single piece and sent it soaring into the night sky.
Wuntvor stood, looking out at the clearing still lit by dragon fire. The wolf smiled and licked his chops.
“This will all be so much simpler if you just stand there,” the beast remarked, stepping forward. “And don’t worry at all. The light cream sauce is quite tasty.”
“Doom.” Hendrek shifted his warclub from hand to hand.
“Buckles and laces!” Tap tried out some tentative dance steps.
“I’ll get around to both of you later,” the wolf replied, advancing on the lad.
Wuntvor felt helpless. He knew his friends would do the best they could to protect him. Still, he would feel much better if he had some way to protect himself, a weapon with which to smite the beast.
“That’s a good meal,” the wolf consoled. “It’ll all be over in a few seconds. I’m a very speedy eater.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” shouted a magnificently modulated voice from the other side of the clearing.
“What are you doing?” another voice complained. “Where are you taking me?”
Wuntvor looked in the direction of the commotion. There stood a magnificent beast, the color of moonlight, with a pale horn in the middle of its forehead. And in its mouth, it held a shining sword.
“So are you going to let me down, or what?” the sword whined.
“I am returning you to your rightful owner,” the unicorn replied haughtily, somehow enunciating perfectly even with a sword in its mouth. It laid the sword at Wuntvor’s feet, then looked up at the lad with its large, soulful eyes.
“I hope that you will be properly grateful,” the beauteous beast whispered.
“Indeed,” Wuntvor replied. “Perhaps we can discuss it some time, when we are not in the midst of a crisis.” He knelt down and picked up the sword.
“Sure, you guys can talk!” Cuthbert continued. “Don’t even give a thought to the trusty weapon who just spent half an hour stuck in that beast’s mouth. I mean, my entire blade is covered with unicorn saliva! Yuck!”
“There is no more beautiful saliva upon the face of the earth,” the unicorn retorted, shaking its moonlit mane to breathtaking effect.
“I am sure there is not,” Wuntvor agreed, “but if you’ll excuse me, I have a wolf to fend off.”
“Oh, so that’s the way it is, huh?” The wolfs teeth set in a grim smile. “Well, you may have a unicorn on your side, not to mention a talking sword and a big fellow with a club and a little fellow who does funny things with shoes. But I have a dragon!” He looked back at the imposing fire lizard. “Isn’t that right?”
The dragon stared back at him silently.
“Hey!” the wolf insisted. “I thought we had a deal!” He took a step toward the dragon.
The dragon took a step away.
“Oh, no you don’t!” the wolf yelled. “An arrangement is an arrangement!” The wolf took two steps forward.
The dragon took two steps away. And, being as the dragon was perhaps twenty times the size of the wolf, the giant lizard’s steps were perhaps twenty times that of the green-hatted beast. In fact, the dragon had already backed completely out of the clearing.
“Is that so?” The wolf shook both his forepaws at the distant reptile. “I’ll show you what I do to welchers!” He ran toward the dragon. The dragon retreated even more quickly. In a matter of seconds, both were out of sight.
There were twin explosions, one to either side of Wuntvor. The lad jumped back, startled. To his left was a little man, about the same size as Tap, although the newcomer seemed to be wearing a leather crown. And to his right was a huge shoe.
“Good,” the shoe remarked. “Now we can talk.”
There is an explanation for everything. It is a pity that many of those explanations make no sense.
The Teachings of Ebenezum, VOLUME LXIX
I blinked. It was my master Ebenezum, come to rescue me once again.
“Indeed,” he said. I realized I was staring.
“It must be very disconcerting for you,” my master inside the shoe continued, “popping in and out of fairy tales like this.”
“Um--,” I replied. “Indeed.”
“Well,” my master continued, “I believe our dragon distraction has given us a few minutes. But we must talk quickly.”
I nodded, trying to blink away the cobwebs that filled my brain.
Ebenezum explained: “Ever since Norei learned you were a prisoner of Mother Duck, we have been working together to set you free. And when His Brownieship was nice enough to reconstruct this magic shoe, I was able to enter the fray.”
“That’s Brownie Power for you!” His Brownieship added.
“I’ve been telling them that all along!” Tap replied.
His Brownieship looked balefully at his subordinate. “I don’t think you should be talking to anybody.”
Tap paled. “Heel sorting!” he whispered.
“Indeed,” Ebenezum continued. “Before I came here, I was able through the protective powers of this shoe to study some of the learned books in Vushta concerning the Eastern Kingdoms. We have come up with some very important facts.”
“Bent buckle straightening!” Tap moaned.
“Firstly, whenever you say ‘Once—‘ “ Ebenezum stopped himself abruptly. He cleared his throat and began again. ‘ ‘Well, you know those four words that always start the tales, and put you under Mother Duck’s spell. There are three other words that end them, and close the loop, so that the fairy tale becomes fixed, with exactly the right ending.”
“Happily ever after,” Wuntvor whispered.
“Precisely,” the wizard replied. “We are now concocting a scheme by which you, as the tale’s primary participant, say exactly those words at exactly the right time.” My master chuckled. “If we can plan this correctly, Wuntvor, this is your last fairy tale.”
“Indeed?” I replied, fresh hope filling my heart. I knew my master would not let me down!
“Truly,” he continued. “All we had to do was somehow find a way to inform you of our plan. Unfortunately, when I first arrived, we had to deal instantly with Death. And since that occasion, I have been trying to keep a low profile. If Mother Duck discovers our plot too soon, we will fail. I have tried instead to feed you hints, snuck into the comers of the fairy story. But that method has not been fast enough.”
“So we had to create a diversion!” His Brownieship explained. Tap wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“Indeed,” the wizard resumed. “We needed to get the wolf out of the way. What you were just in, you realize, was his fairy story. Frustrated at the lack of control she has had over her own tales, Mother Duck gave the wolf a chance to see if he could do any better. Once we found out about this, we knew it was our chance. Anyway, it was His Brownieship’s idea to add the dragon and the unicorn as a bit of a distraction. Now all we have to do is hope Mother Duck watches the wolf for a moment so we can talk.”
There was one question he had not answered. I could not help myself—I had to ask it!
“But master!” I cried. “What of Norei?”
“Norei cannot be here. She is using her powers to watch Mother Duck, to make sure we are not discovered. She was also the one to see the opportunity in the wolf’s tale.”
My master paused. I imagined him stroking his long white beard deep within his shoe. “In addition, she is one of the few people with magical abilities to still escape my malady. She needs to stay hidden, safe from Mother Duck’s power, until we finally put our plan into effect. Listen carefully, Wuntvor, for when we give you a prearranged signal, you must shout out those words.”
“Happily ever after,” I repeated once again.
“They have a satisfying ring to them, don’t they?” His Brow-nieship smiled. “Sort of like Brownie Magic!”
Tap could hold it in no longer. “B-but my King of Sole!” he stuttered. “Won’t you listen to me? I have always been true to Brownie Magic!”
His leader looked condescendingly down his royal nose. “Like those seven Brownie wishes?”
“But your smallness, once you hear—“ Tap paused, as if struggling to pick the right words. “Once you—Once upon a time.” His voice fell to a monotone, his eyes free of expression.
His Brownieship scowled. “The weak-willed always go first.”
“She is reasserting control!” the wizard exclaimed. “Quickly, Wuntvor! There is one more thing I must tell you.”
“Once upon--,” His Brownieship began. He clapped his tiny hands over his mouth. I felt the pressure, too; those four words pounding in my brain, welling upon my lips. I had the feeling that speaking those words was as important as life itself. But I must fight it! I looked quickly to my companions, and saw from their distress that, now that my master had explained the true nature of the magic, they were battling the spell as well.
“We must go!” the wizard called. And both Ebenezum and His Brownieship disappeared in twin puffs of smoke.
“But master?” I asked the empty air. “What else must I know?”
“Doom,” Hendrek remarked. “Ebenezum is resourceful. I am sure he will find some way to tell us.”
But the Brownie was back in the fairy tale trance; a spell that any of the rest of us could fall victim to at any moment. That meant that Mother Duck’s eyes and ears were with us as well. How could my master give us his message without her finding out?
I looked up in the sky. Something had blotted out the moon. I heard the sound of great wings, descending rapidly. Even in the darkness, I knew it had to be Hubert.
“Here we are again!” Alea’s voice called from Hubert’s back. “It’s the duo who will pull you through-o, the act of acts with all the facts!”
“The pair so slick that they’ll make you sick!” another, incredibly annoying voice called from the edge of the clearing. I squinted into the darkness. Anyone wearing that many robes had to be Snarks.
“I had to come and see what would make this much noise,” the demon explained. “Guxx is out there somewhere looking for his drummer. I imagine they will both be along presently.”
“Indeed,” I replied, careful to choose only the safest words possible. Now that I was searching for it, I could feel a subtle pressure within my skull, something there that wanted me to forget, perhaps to sleep. It was a powerful magic that I would have to fight if I wished to discover the rest of my master’s message.
“Once upon a time,” Tap interjected.
“Doom,” Hendrek said, his brow furrowed as he studied me critically. “Then you feel it, too?”
I nodded. “I wish there was some way my master could hurry.”
“Oh,” Alea said brightly as she jumped from the dragon’s back. “That’s why we’re here. Hubert knows!”
“Indeed?” Hubert knew the final secret my master wished to impart to me? But then I realized the terrible irony of the situation. “He cannot speak! How can he tell us?”
“Simple enough,” the damsel reassured us. “It will be difficult, but Hubert can do it. He will have to utilize an ancient art among his kind: Dragon charades!”
Alea quickly outlined the rules of this ancient reptilian art as Hubert silently prepared himself. It seemed that the dragon would pantomime Ebenezum’s secret, and those of us assembled here would have to guess the dragon’s meaning. When one of us got it right, Hubert would nod and point, and the truth would be revealed to us.
“Simple enough,” I announced. “Shall we begin?”
The dragon nodded, blowing controlled bursts of flame to better illuminate his actions.
Alea ran over to join the rest of us.
The dragon snapped his mouth open and shut repeatedly.
“It’s a saying!” Alea exclaimed. “That’s what Hubert’s telling us. The wizard’s message is a saying.”
So Ebenezum had tried to tell me some ancient truth?
“What kind of saying?” I asked Alea.
“Once upon a time,” Tap suggested.
“Watch Hubert and find out,” she replied. “What a performer!”
I turned my attention back to the dragon.
“What’s the saying about?” I called.
The dragon pointed downward. “The ground?” He shook his head. “The Netherhells?” His headshaking redoubled. I realized then that he was actually pointing to his lower extremities.
“Your feet?” I queried.
The dragon shrugged, then nodded. What did that mean-maybe? The dragon lifted one foot, then bent over so that he held both his forepaws just below his toes. With great care, he pulled the forepaws back toward his heel.
“Doom,” Hendrek conjectured. “He is putting something over his foot.”
“Like a shoe?” I asked.
The dragon nodded, thumping his tail enthusiastically.
“So the saying is about a shoe?”
The dragon nodded again.
“Doom,” Hendrek added. “We have an expert about shoes.”
“Once upon a time,” Tap replied.
“Yes, but the Brownie is under Mother Duck’s spell,” I reminded the warrior. “She has taken over his mind.”
“Doom,” Hendrek acknowledged. “Perhaps I can remedy that.”
“Once upon a time,” Tap replied.
The warrior lifted his great warclub Headbasher, cursed to steal the memories of men, and gently bopped Tap on the noggin.
“Once upon an—urk!” Tap exclaimed. “Hey, watch out with that thing! We Brownies crush pretty easily.”
“Indeed!” I cheered. “You have broken Mother Duck’s spell.”
“Doom,” Hendrek agreed.
“Spell? I was under Mother Duck’s spell?” Tap paled. “Where’s His Brownieship?”
I told Tap that his leader had to flee to escape Mother Duck. I also told the Brownie that there might be a way he could redeem himself. All he had to do was figure out the famous saying about shoes that Hubert was trying to give us via sign language.
“Shoes?” Tap laughed. “ ‘Twill take but a moment for an expert like myself. Show me this pantomiming dragon!”
Hubert waved, then went back through the motions of putting on the shoe.
“Simplicity itself!” the Brownie exclaimed. “The saying is: A shoe in the hand is worth two in the bush.”
The dragon shook his head.
“No?” Tap replied, clearly astonished that he had been incorrect. “Then it must be ‘A rolling shoe gathers no laces!’—right?”
Hubert shook his head again, resorting once more to the putting-on-the-shoe pantomime.
“Too many Brownies spoil the shoe?” Tap tried again. “It just has to be!”
The dragon shook his head one more time as he tucked his foot into the imaginary footwear.
But that was it, I thought. Could it be?
“If the shoe fits, wear it!” I called.
Hubert nodded and pointed.
“If the shoe fits, wear it?” The Brownie scratched his tiny head. “I’ve never heard of that one. Doesn’t seem to have much pizzazz, does it?”
Well, it might not have much “pizzazz,” as the Brownie put it, but since it came from my master, I was sure that it was fraught with meaning. But what could that meaning be?
“Aha!” yet another voice called from the edge of the clearing. “There you are!”
The speaker approached Hubert’s flickering nose light. It was the wolf.
“Thought better of running away from me, did you?” the wolf asked superiorly. “Well, I’m glad we’re back where we can get something done. On with the story!”
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” Mother Duck ran rapidly down the hill.
“What do you mean, no?” Jeffrey the Wolf complained as the old woman burst into our midst. “I was so close.”
“Close to total chaos, you mean?” Mother Duck retorted angrily. “I knew I should never have listened to you.”
“But I’ve almost gotten to the best part!” Jeffrey objected. “Where I get to eat everybody!” He turned to the dragon. “Now, if you’ll just quick-fry all these characters over here—“
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Mother Duck interrupted. “I’m taking back my fairy tale, as of now!”
She smiled at the assemblage.
“Once upon a time,” we all said as one.
“Everybody needs their rest.”
Yet another quote attributed to Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms, when he was once again discovered upon the royal bed and in the arms of the obviously enthusiastic Queen Vivazia by her husband, King Snerdlot the Vengeful. Luckily for the wizard, the king was exhausted by endless hours of Ebenezum-hunting in the hidden corridors of the castle, and so was easily fooled by the mage’s temporary confusion spell, which somehow got Snerdlot thinking that he had wandered by mistake into the wrong castle altogether, thus allowing the wizard to escape back into the hidden corridors during the king’s lengthy apology.
Once upon a time there was a handsome prince named Wuntvor, who lived far out in the woods with his good friends, the Seven Other Dwarves. Now the Seven Other Dwarves warned Wuntvor to beware of strangers, for it was rumored—
No, no, no. That didn’t sound at all right. Perhaps if he rephrased it.
Once upon a time there was a very confused young man named Wuntvor, who could have sworn there was something that he was supposed to remember. And he also could have sworn he should have known all the various people and beasts that surrounded him in the clearing.
“Once upon a time,” everyone said in unison, including Wuntvor. But why? Wuntvor had no idea. Wasn’t he supposed to say something else instead?
“Are you just going to let me drag on the floor all day?” a voice complained from just below his right wrist.
Wuntvor lifted the object he held in his right hand. It was a sword.
“Much better!” the sword remarked.
“A talking sword?” Wuntvor almost dropped the weapon in surprise.
“Oh, we’re not going to start this again!” the sword admonished. “You’re in another one of Mother Duck’s fairy tales, where she wipes out everyone’s memory so that you can be empty pawns that she can use at her whim. But you’re nothing of the sort.” The sword sighed. “I suppose I’m going to have to go through this whole thing once more. So listen:
“You are Wuntvor, apprentice to Ebenezum, sent here to try and enlist Mother Duck in your cause. Unfortunately, Mother Duck is a stubborn, willful woman, and will not even listen to your pleas. Therefore, you were in the midst of escaping when the old woman once again got you under her spell.”
Wuntvor blinked. “You’re right. I’m starting to remember. How can I ever thank you?”
“Think nothing of it,” the sword assured him. “It’s totally self-preservation. Once these fairy tales get going, you always end up whipping out your sword—that’s me—for one thing or another. It always ends in blood.” The sword shivered in the lad’s hand. “Or worse than blood.”
“Worse than blood?” the lad asked, intrigued despite his confusion.
“Ichor,” the sword explained miserably. “Hair oil. Unicorn saliva.”
Wuntvor nodded. He was beginning to recall some of those incidents as well. He closed his eyes, trying to will the last remnants of the spell away.
“Once upon—“ He clamped his mouth shut. Those words had come to his lips unbidden.
“Mother Duck’s controlling spell,” the sword explained. “You must refrain from saying those words at all cost, or you will be under her power forever. But come. Let us try to free the others.”
Wuntvor looked to the rest of those in the clearing, all wandering about, mumbling over and over those four fateful words.
“Indeed,” the lad asked his weapon as they approached the others, “if this woman’s sorcery is so powerful, how did you manage to escape?”
“By my very definition,” the sword patiently explained. “I’m a magical device. Spells bounce right off my shiny blade.”
“Indeed,” the lad responded. Why did that explanation sound so familiar?
“Quickly, now,” the sword cautioned, “we have to awaken the others and flee. I want to be done with this as soon as possible, before any—“ The sword paused, as if it found it difficult to say the next word, “—bloodshed begins.”
“Very well,” Wuntvor agreed. But before he could take a dozen paces, he heard a strange, high-pitched laugh emanating from the edge of the nearby forest.
“Hee, hee, hee! Hello, my dearies,” the strange voice continued. “I’ve come with a present for Wuntvor.”
The others in the clearing all turned toward the voice.
“Doom?” said one particularly large fellow.
“Buckles and laces!” exclaimed one who was particularly short.
“Yes,” the old lady continued as she stepped into their midst. “Hee, hee, hee! I’ve brought a special basket of apples for my special Eternal Apprentice.”
“It’s Mother Duck!” the sword whispered.
The old woman smiled as she caught Wuntvor’s eye. The lad took a step away, not knowing what to expect.
“Now, now,” the woman said reassuringly. “There’s no reason to be afraid. I’ve just brought you all some food.”
She pulled back her dark shawl to reveal a basket of apples she had hung on one of her arms. They were unlike any apples Wuntvor had ever seen. In fact, they glowed bright green in the darkness.
“Don’t they look delicious?” Mother Duck asked encouragingly. “So plump, so crisp, so sweet. Hee, nee, nee! Wouldn’t you like to be biting into one right now?”
Wuntvor swallowed and backed away again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to eat any fruit that contained its own light source.
A wolf in a green cap ran up to the old woman. “Hey,” the beast said, “if I can’t eat anything else, at least one of these will stave off my hunger.” He snatched a piece of fruit from the basket.
“How dare you!” Mother Duck began. Wuntvor flinched at her anger. Glancing apologetically at the lad, she spoke to the wolf in more soothing tones. “Oh, I suppose it’s all right. You must be hungry. I’ve neglected to put any meals in any of today’s fairy tales, haven’t I? We just have to make sure that Wuntvor gets one.” She waved the basket in the lad’s direction. “Not that there’s anything special about these apples. No, no, except that they are especially delicious! Hee, hee, hee!”
“Doom.” The large fellow lumbered over to the basket and extracted an apple. “I am famished.”
“Buckles and laces!” The very small fellow jumped into the basket, deftly pushing a piece of fruit over the rim. “Brownies need to maintain their strength!” He leapt after the falling apple.
Mother Duck stopped short. In the strange, green light of the apples, she looked very upset.
“If another of you touches my apples, I will smite—“ She paused when she noticed that Wuntvor was rapidly backing away once again.
“Oh, dear,” she said after a moment, her voice much kinder. “Hee, hee, hee! I’m afraid I’m unnecessarily cross. Mother Duck shouldn’t stay up so late. It’s after her bedtime!” She once again pushed the basket toward Wuntvor. “There’s more than enough fruit to go around. But everyone should wait until
Wuntvor gets an apple of his own. It’s only polite.”
The wolf took a noisy bite from his apple.
“Ummmm!” he exclaimed. “That’s delici—“
He fell on his face before he could finish the sentence and began to snore loudly.
“Speaking of inappropriate manners!” Mother Duck exclaimed, pointing disdainfully at the sleeping beast. “He eats before everyone is served, and then immediately takes a nap! The nerve of some creatures! He’ll never get to be in any more of my fairy tales, let me tell you!”
She took another step toward Wuntvor. A fair damsel sneaked up behind her and lifted an apple from the basket.
“Hee, hee, hee! Now, my dear, sweet boy. I’ve brought these apples just for you. I know you’ve been stubborn, not wanting to say certain words. But Mother Duck isn’t angry. Oh, no. Hee, hee, hee. And to show you how pleased I am with you, I just want you to take one tiny little bite out of one tiny little apple. Mother Duck will feel so much better if you do.”
“In-indeed,” Wuntvor managed, “I do not wish to.”
The old woman stood there for a moment, staring without expression at the youngster. A shortish fellow hidden within a huge robe reached out and took a piece of fruit.
“You do not wish to?” she asked at last, the sweetness in her voice evaporating with every word. “You are in Mother Duck’s kingdom, and you do not wish to?” She laughed again, but it had a darker sound than before. “You come here, unannounced, unasked for, because of some stupid quest far beneath my notice. And now you refuse to obey my wishes? Oh, I’ll grant you that you’ve brought along some interesting fodder for my fairy tales, but that is not enough! There are orders that must be obeyed! There are apples that must be eaten!”
She thrust the basket forward. Wuntvor could smell the apples now; they were almost beneath his nose. They smelled very sweet, almost sickeningly so, as if their green skins were made of sugar. As sweet as they were, though, he wanted one. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Then again, he couldn’t remember a lot of things.
His mouth started to water.
“Why don’t you take an apple?” the old woman demanded. “Just one small bite, a few seconds, and it will be over. I think I deserve at least that much, after all I’ve done for you.” She tried to smile encouragement. It didn’t work.
She sighed, a scowl once again dominating her face. “You force me to become personally involved in one of my own fairy stories, just so I might rescue my kingdom from the damage this sleeping wolf has done! I have never spent so much time fooling around with my stories—and you know I am a Fairy Tale Professional!” She paused, doing her best to control her temper. “I suppose you have done things for me as well. Heaven knows, you have opened new vistas, new possibilities in which I might ply my traditional tales. I am grateful for that much. Heaven knows I’ve never been able to call upon Death the way you seem able to. But I think it is time for those possibilities I keep seeing to become fairy tale reality—Now!”
She stared at the lad, and her eyes seemed to glow with a cold, green fire, much the same color as the shining apples.
“Think handsome prince,” she whispered.
Wuntvor began to sweat.
“Um--,” he managed. “Indeed?”
Mother Duck laughed sourly. “Still you resist me. Can’t you see that it is hopeless? I am the supreme ruler of all I survey. Once you enter my kingdom, you are mine. For as long as I want you, you are mine, even if that is the rest of your life.”
The green glow in her eyes intensified. Wuntvor couldn’t look away. He found his lips and tongue moving of their own volition.
“Once upon--,” the lad began. “Ow!”
Somehow, his sword had slapped him in the thigh. Wuntvor looked down at his weapon.
“Don’t look at her!” the sword demanded. “I guarantee you, it’ll lead to bloodshed!”
“That does it!” Mother Duck raged. “You seem to have some sort of incredible dumb luck that always saves you. Well, it won’t save you this time! Eternal Apprentice or no, you are going to eat one of my apples!”
She swung the basket behind her, as if getting ready to fling the fruit in Wuntvor’s face. So intent was she on her retribution, though, that she did not notice that the dragon had somehow maneuvered his great bulk directly behind her. The great reptile caught the swinging basket deftly between his formidable teeth, tipping the wicker just so, allowing the five remaining apples to slide down his gullet.
“What?” Mother Duck stared at her empty basket in disbelief. “Gone? Every one of my delicious, very special apples gone?” She glared at Wuntvor. “You will not escape my wrath this easily! Wait right there! I will be back as soon as I reload!”
There was a substantial crash as the dragon fell behind her. The huge reptile began to snore loudly. Mother Duck grumbled under her breath as she stormed off around the sleeping lizard.
“Well,” the sword in Wuntvor’s hand said, “I guess we showed her.”
“Indeed,” the lad answered, still not quite sure what he had done. “What do we do now?”
“Hmmm,” the sword considered. “Well, now that Mother Duck’s gone, I suppose I can resume the introductions. I, incidentally, am called Cuthbert. In case you forget again, my name is tastefully inscribed on the side of my blade. You had forgotten, hadn’t you? We definitely have to get you out of this fairy tale business. Now, swing me around toward the others, and I’ll reintroduce you, let us hope for the last time.”
Wuntvor did as the sword bade, turning the blade toward his companions, who all seemed to have fallen to the ground.
“Oh, dear,” the sword moaned. “Everyone seems to be asleep. How can we escape when everyone is asleep?”
Wuntvor frowned. Cuthbert was correct. The entire company was quietly snoring, surrounded by half-eaten apples.
“Oh, well,” Cuthbert continued. “I suppose I’ll identify them all anyway. It’ll save time when they’re done with their nap. Point me from left to right, will you? Yes, there’s Hendrek the warrior and Snarks the demon, and Alea is the damsel’s name. That large reptile in the middle is called Hubert. Oh, yes, and the wolfs name is Jeffrey, but you don’t have to worry about him. I’m afraid he wouldn’t make much of a companion. His appetite would get in the way.
“Oh, dear.” Cuthbert hesitated before speaking again, his voice much less certain. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize the gentleman standing over on the far right.” The sword glowed faintly, as if it might illuminate the stranger. “If you might come a little bit forward, sir? I’m afraid we swords don’t see all that well in the moonlight.”
“Gladly,” replied a voice that sounded like dead leaves blowing in the wind.
“Oh, dear,” the sword remarked. “I believe I recognize him now.”
So did Wuntvor.
A wizard always attracts a crowd. The minute magic starts, huge quantities of people are attracted, all asking questions and jostling for a better view. It is not considered good form, however, to use your magic to banish these masses and give yourself quieter working conditions. Rather you should accept your lot, and consider the publicity value of spells performed before a large and grateful public. And of course, performing magic becomes even more fulfilling when you have already charged a nominal admission fee.
The Teachings of Ebenezum, VOLUME V
I came to my senses all at once. It was amazing the way Death could do that for me.
The spectre walked forward to meet us. The night had, of course, grown suddenly cold.
“At last,” Death whispered, “I have you alone, in a situation where I think we shall not be interrupted.”
What was Death talking about? “But I am not alone!” I waved to the cluster of sleeping companions that surrounded us. “We are in the middle of a crowd.”
The spectre laughed, the sound of small songbirds drowning in a whirlpool.
“Yes, a crowd—a sleeping crowd,” he told me gently. “You do not know very much of Death, do you? Well, of course you wouldn’t—you are the Eternal Apprentice, who has cheated me at every turn. You are the Eternal Apprentice, who always manages to elude me despite my best efforts, instead constantly being reborn to another bumbling life! You are the Eternal Apprentice, whose very existence makes a mockery of all my works and all I stand for—“ The spectre stopped himself. “Pardon. There is no reason to be upset. I have you at last. There is no escape. I will show you that Death is a gentleman, and answer your question.”
He waved at the crowd with a skeletal hand. “Your companions sleep, a deep, drugged slumber. They cannot help you now, for as long as they sleep, they are half in my kingdom already, and I will assure their continued somnambulance.” Death sighed, the sound of dead grass blown by the winter wind. “It is nice of us to meet at night, for this is the time Death feels most comfortable walking through the world. It is fitting that I should take you now, at my leisure, after I have stalked you for so long.”
“Indeed,” I commented, trying to determine some way to stay alive, if only for a few more minutes. I sidled over to the deeply snoring Hendrek and kicked him gently in the breastplate. Hendrek didn’t react. I kicked him harder.
“Ow!” I had managed to hurt my big toe in the process. Hendrek still did not respond, not even a muffled “Doom.” He snored on, oblivious to my predicament.
Death laughed drily, the sound of beetles eating at a rotting carcass. “You see now that I have won.”
“I am not yours yet!” I yelled, backing away from the spectre.
“That’s telling him!” Cuthbert shouted encouragingly. “Now what say we get out of here?”
“Must we be tiresome?” a voice said behind me. I whirled around to see Death barely an arm’s length away. “I have told you before that escape is impossible. Death is everywhere. I am inevitable.”
The spectre spread his arms wide, pointing to a pair of trees on either side. A wind came from somewhere, perhaps even from inside the spectre’s bonelike fingers. Leaves whipped about in the gale, curling inward like small animals in pain. The wind seemed to leech the color from them as well, turning green to yellow to driest brown, the leaves at last ripping away from their branches to be carried away by the death wind until all the tree limbs were bare. But the trees were changing as well. Where once they were young and vibrant, only a few years beyond saplings, now they became twisted and gnarled, filled with a crawling rot that seemed to spread from the inside out, causing limbs to fall and bark to decompose before my eyes until, where once two strong trees had stood, now there was nothing but stumps and dust.
Death’s laughter boomed through the forest, the sound of a thunderstorm that would destroy everything in its path.
“Maybe it’s time for me to go back in my scabbard,” Cuthbert suggested.
“Yes,” the spectre chortled. “You can run. You can hide. It will do you no good. It won’t do anybody any good. As of now, Death will take anybody he wants, at any time he wants. And that includes the Eternal Apprentice!”
He reached for Wuntvor. “Come. Take my hand. You entered this world alone, but you will leave it with me. As long as I have savored this moment, still I promise you, it will be over in an instant.”
“Oh, no, it won’t!” a wondrously mellifluous voice interrupted.
“Who is that?” Death raved. “Who disturbs my ultimate moment?”
“I do!” And the unicorn cantered forward. In the darkness, the wondrous beast’s coat looked as if it were made of moonlight. It waved its shimmering horn in my direction. “You cannot take him. The lad and I have—“ The unicorn paused significantly, “—unfinished business.”
“I should have known.” Death’s voice rose like the howling gale that brings a hurricane. “I come here to find all his companions unconscious, leaving the Eternal Apprentice alone, without aid. I should have taken him in that instant, but no, I was too confident, too willing to gloat over my victory. I am Death, after all, used to having my way with all normal, mortal creatures. But I forget that the creature I want now may not be mortal, and certainly isn’t normal!”
“Indeed,” I replied, seeking a way to further demoralize the spectre. “Come here, O noble unicorn. To my side!”
‘To his side?” the unicorn whispered, its soulful brown eyes filling with tears. “He wants me by his side. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear those words.”
Slowly, carefully—as if the beast feared that, should it move too quickly, it might wake from its newfound dream—the unicorn trotted to my side.
The spectre made a noise halfway between a moan and a snicker. Death seemed to be trembling.
“Do not think for an instant--,” he said at last, each word hissing forth as if spoken by a snake about to strike, “do not think I am not prepared for this eventuality. So it is the middle of the night, when most intelligent creatures do not venture forth. So it is a very special night, when most of your companions rest here in a drugged sleep, unable to help their beloved Eternal Apprentice. Still, I knew my conquest might not be easy, that somehow, some way, you would find a method to try to thwart your destiny.”
The spectre’s bony hand pointed shakily at the unicom. “Notice that I said you might try to thwart your destiny! For, as surely as I have claimed a million billion souls, I swear this night that I shall add the Eternal Apprentice to my collection, no matter what the obstacles!”
“Eep eep!” came a cry in the night.
“What was that?” Death shrieked, pulling his robes close about his skeletal form.
“Indeed?” I said, surprised by the spectre’s reaction. “It is only one of my ferrets.”
“Only one?” Death whispered. “Then why have I heard that cry, over and over, ever since that small brown creature attacked me when we met earlier today?”
“Indeed?” I thought fast. That would have been at least a couple of attempts on my life ago, when I had thought fondly of my ferret, and it had appeared.
“Eep eep eep!” the ferret called.
“What is this creature?” Death demanded. “You must tell me!”
I shrugged. “He is naught but a magic ferret.”
“Magic?” Death stared wildly out into the night. “How could a ferret be magic?”
“I conjured him, using a magic hat--,” I began.
“A ferret, created by the Eternal Apprentice?” Death shook so violently I could hear his bones rattle. “I should have known! Only a ferret created by an immortal could follow Death into his kingdom! Well, this will happen no more! I will end this haunting once and for all. I will take you, and the unicorn, and the enchanted ferret as well. Death will win this night!” The spectre chuckled, his confidence returning. “But then, Death always wins.”
I felt the unicorn’s soft pelt against my leg.
“If we have to go,” the beast moaned magnificently, “at least we go together. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Indeed?” I remarked, because I was beginning to formulate a plan. “Ferret, to my side!”
“Eep eep eep!” the little creature cried as it streaked across the clearing. I saw Death flinch as it passed.
“Yes,” I said to the small animal as it nuzzled my shoe. “We might as well all be together, as Death has suggested.”
Death grinned, pleased at my acquiescence. He stepped forward to take all three of us.
“After all,” I continued, “being together like this makes it so much easier to call the others.”
Death stopped. “The others?”
I nodded. “This is not my only ferret.”
Death took a step back. “It isn’t?”
“No,” I answered. “It is only one of hundreds.”
“Hundreds?” Death whispered. “You have hundreds of magic ferrets? Look into my eyes, Apprentice. It is impossible to lie to Death!”
I did my best to gaze into the spectre’s deep eye sockets. For I was not lying. I did have a virtually limitless supply of ferrets. Of course, all but one of them were still back in Vushta, with no way to join us here. But I did not intend to tell Death that particular fact.
“You do have hundreds!” Death moaned. “Hundreds offer- rets, overrunning my peaceful kingdom?”
My plan was working. Death’s sudden panic at my magic ferrets entering his kingdom had unnerved him enough so I was sure that he would think twice about taking our lives.
“But, no,” Death said, shaking himself. “I am overreacting. There is only one ferret here. If I take you quickly, perhaps you would not have time to call the rest of them. And even if you could, perhaps it would be worth it to have hundreds of eeping ferrets in my kingdom, if I also had the Eternal Apprentice!” He reached out both his arms to take us all. “For, no matter what happens, I have sworn to take you tonight.”
“Indeed?” I said, more than a bit upset at this turn of events. It had not taken him long to think twice. Unfortunately, my plan went no further.
“And what exactly is going on here?” a commanding female voice called from behind me.
Death looked past my shoulder. “I knew it would happen like this! I’ve had any number of chances to take the Eternal Apprentice. But do I? No, I end up talking with him, instead. Discussing ferrets! And then, who shows up, but yet another companion that I must take to my dark domain.”
“Another companion?” the female voice asked.
“Do not deny it!” Death shrieked. “The Eternal Apprentice draws companions the way rotting meat draws flies!”
“It’s bad enough that Death is going to get us all,” Cuthbert wailed. “Do we have to listen to his metaphors as well?”
“How dare you call me a companion!” the voice demanded. “I am Mother Duck! I was simply bringing Wuntvor his apples.”
“No matter who you claim to be,” Death replied, “I must take you. For to take the Eternal Apprentice, I am risking chaos. I can leave no living witnesses.”
“You will do no such thing!” Mother Duck exclaimed, walking forward so that she stood between me and Death. ‘This is my kingdom, and whoever enters it acts only on my command!”
Death laughed again. I did not like the way he was regaining confidence. “You, then, are the legendary mistress of fairy tales who rules the Eastern Kingdoms? You will be a welcome addition to my domain. Concocting fairy stories seems very much like a game. Have I told you that I am very fond of games?”
“You seem awfully sure of yourself for an interloper,” the old woman complained, “but we’ll soon take care of that. Look into my eyes.”
“Ah. That sounds like a fine game.” Death smiled and did as she wished.
Nothing happened. Mother Duck turned away in frustration.
“How can I bend you to my will when you don’t have any eyes to stare into?”
“Death is beyond the petty concerns of mortals,” the spectre replied casually. “But come now. I have dawdled enough with all of you. You must join with me, before there are any further distractions.”
“See?” a voice came from the forest. “They are so having a party, and they didn’t invite us!”
“Really, Touchy,” another voice chided, “we should be above that sort of thing.”
“Oh, wow,” a third voice added as the Seven Other Dwarves strode into the clearing.
“I don’t believe this,” Death whispered, the sound of ice freezing forever.
“Oh, look,” Smarmy said, reading from a piece of parchment. “It is our good friend, the handsome prince. But look again! He has fallen asleep.”
Smarmy looked up at me and frowned. “Oh, my. Excuse me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you supposed to be the handsome prince?”
“He’s the handsome prince?” Nasty asked sarcastically. “Pardon me, but is there a new definition of the word handsome? “
Smarmy looked about at the bodies littering the clearing. “But it appears that everybody else has fallen asleep instead!”
“Oh, it just figures that our fairy tale would go wrong—“ Touchy hesitated. “Why, Mother Duck!”
“Mother Duck?” Smarmy dropped the piece of paper to wring his hands. “Why, so it is. I’m sure Touchy didn’t mean anything by his fairy tale remark, Mother Duck.”
“Certainly not. Mother Duck,” Touchy hastily added.
“Always a pleasure working for you, Mother Duck,” Nasty chimed in.
“Oh, wow, Mother Duck,” Spacey remarked.
“And may I humbly say what a great pleasure it is to see you, Mother Duck?” Smarmy continued. “As you can see, we were following your instructions to the letter.”
“Yes, you were, my most excellent dwarves,” the old woman replied with a smile that evaporated when she turned to look at me, “unlike certain others I can name!”
“This must end,” Death intoned with a force that stopped all other conversation. He then turned to look at me as well. “You are almost beyond belief. I’m sure I could meet you in the most desolate place on earth, and it would immediately become as crowded as Vushta on market day! Well, the walls of chaos may rip asunder, and I will be so tired that no one will die for a week, but I will take you all.”
He walked toward me, holding out both his hands. “I have long ago stopped doubting that you were the Eternal Apprentice. Now, I only wonder at what a grand addition you will be to my kingdom. But come, we have dawdled long enough—“
He paused. The clearing was filled with the beating of a drum.
“Guxx Unfufadoo, curious demon, Wants to know what’s going on here, Wants to speak to his friend Wuntvor, Wants to go on back to Vushta!”
“No!” Death screamed in frustration. “No, no, no! This gets worse with every passing second!” The spectre shuddered. “But I will still take all of you. The paperwork will be staggering, but while the declaimer is an imposing fellow, the one beating the drum is small enough. I think I can still fit both of them in. Come now! I will not wait another—“
There were twin explosions in our midst.
“Indeed,” remarked the shoe that had just appeared.
“It’s really time for Brownie Power!” His Brownieship added.
“It’s the talking shoe again?” Death seemed overwhelmed. “What can you do with a talking shoe?”
“A lot of things!” Mother Duck replied, obviously intrigued. “For one thing there’s this old lady I know who keeps having these kids and doesn’t know what to do with them—“
“I was speaking rhetorically,” Death informed her drily. “I know what I will do with this shoe, and the little person who has arrived as well. I will take them to my kingdom. I will take you all to my kingdom, though it shall tax my powers to the utmost.” He looked to the heavens. “Come storm! Come wind and thunder and rain! Give me your energy, for I have many to kill!”
The howling was faint at first, as if it came from a great distance. But it grew quickly, doubling in intensity with every heartbeat, until it sounded like the anguish of a million souls. Black clouds rushed overhead, blotting out the moon and stars, making the dark night darker still. There was a rumbling in the distance.
Death laughed.
“I have you now!” he roared. “Although it will take all my resources, I will gain the strength to transport every one of you to my kingdom in an instant.”
The clouds crashed together overhead. The distant rumbling was coming closer, gaining definition so that it sounded like someone beating the world’s largest drum.
“Odd.” Death paused, as if even he were startled by the noise. “But it does not matter. Perhaps it is some manifestation of my power that even I am not yet aware of.” He returned his gaze to the sky.
“Come lightning!”
The clouds above crashed together with resounding force, sending out bright white flashes where they met. Death’s laughter doubled.
The booming sound was coming closer, too.
There came a crash overhead so great that I fell to my knees and covered my ears. A bolt of lightning streaked from the clouds, straight for Death.
I could feel the booming sound. It shook the ground where I knelt.
Death’s laughter became as loud as the thunder as he was bathed in the white fire. Then the lightning was gone, but Death glowed from within, his bonelike face so bright that you could not look at it for more than a second.
“Now,” Death whispered in a voice far louder than a shout. “The time is—“
The booming sound intensified, now as loud as Death, shaking the whole clearing with every thundering beat. The booming stopped.
Death looked up. A single word came from on high. “Oops!” And Death screamed.
Any working magician will encounter situations which are potentially embarrassing, such as being trapped at a party with your spouse’s relatives, or potentially deadly, such as finding yourself in front of a murderous crowd when a very important spell has backfired, or even both, such as being trapped with a crowd of your spouse’s murderous relatives. It therefore behooves the mage to always have a couple of escape spells handy so that he might quickly exit these situations. But the truly professional wizard will go one better, devising another spell (and this is especially important with spouse’s relatives) that proves he did not go into those situations at all.
The Teachings of Ebenezum, VOLUME XXII
Death was gone. And dawn was breaking over the Eastern Kingdoms.
Mother Duck groaned. “That was quite a night. With you around, I doubt I shall ever get any sleep. But there are newcomers to my kingdom I must greet. Now what have I done with my apples?”
“Breakfast,” Richard remarked, turning the basket over so that all the green, glowing apples fell upon his tongue. He swallowed them with a single gulp.
Mother Duck groaned again, flinging her hands up toward the heavens. “What else can happen to me now? Oh, Richard!” She sat down heavily upon a tree stump. “I would be more upset with you if I was not so exhausted.”
“Oops!” Richard replied. “Have I done something wrong?” And then he burped.
But Mother Duck waved him to silence as she stood again and walked over to my master, still hidden within his shoe.
“Welcome to my kingdom, oh talking shoe,” she greeted Ebenezum. “I will have to find a use for you.”
“Indeed?” my master replied. “Well, I shall have to return once you have made up your mind.”
And with that, both my master and His Brownieship disappeared.
“Richard!” Mother Duck screamed, suddenly furious.
“Yes, Mother Duck?” the giant said with a yawn.
“That talking shoe is trying to escape me!” she replied. “No one escapes Mother Duck!”
“Yes, Mother Duck,” a chorus of voices added all around me.
‘Track down that shoe, Richard,” Mother Duck commanded, “and bring it to me!”
Richard yawned again. “Couldn’t I take a nap first?”
“No sleeping on the job!” the old woman snapped. “Bring me that shoe now!”
“Yes, Mother Duck.” Barely able to keep his eyes open, the giant staggered off into the woods.
“Now I will have to see what I can do with the rest of you.” She looked at me first. “Since you seem destined never to eat one of my special apples, we will have to revise the plot slightly.”
The wolf moaned in his sleep. The dragon shifted, his tail propelling the heavily robed Snarks a dozen paces. Alea sat up and rubbed her eyes.
Mother Duck nodded sagely. “The effects of my special sauce seem to be wearing off. We’d better get to work!”
“Happily ever after,” I whispered. I had been able to avoid
Mother Duck’s control for hours now. Still, I wondered if I could survive a direct confrontation. I concentrated hard on anything I could think of besides those four words: Norei, my master, the crisis in Vushta, the threat of the Netherhells. Once—no, I didn’t want to think of that word! My mind had to dwell on other, more intricate things: Snarks’s worst insults, Guxx’s most elaborate poetry. Damsel and Dragon’s production numbers.
That seemed to work, at least for a moment.
Mother Duck frowned. “Wasn’t there a unicorn around here a minute ago?” She covered her mouth as she yawned. So she was tired, too. It seemed to be affecting her concentration. I felt the pressure lift from my skull.
All the sleepers were stirring now. Alea had gotten to her feet, while the wolf sat up and stretched and Hubert tentatively flapped his wings. Snarks rolled around on the ground, somehow lost deep within his voluminous robes, while the Brownie seemed to have embarked on some sort of a morning exercise program, leaping from place to place with a great deal of shouting and arm waving.
I sat down on the hard-packed earth. I realized it had been a long time since I had slept. All this stretching and yawning was making me feel even more exhausted. My eyes were heavy, but I wouldn’t let them close. I was still afraid of Mother Duck’s powers, and what might happen if I let my concentration slip, even for an instant.
“Look!” Mother Duck called triumphantly. “The handsome prince is getting drowsy! Perhaps we can get this fairy tale moving after all!”
Handsome prince? What handsome prince? I tried blinking, but for some reason my eyes, while willing enough to close, did not wish to open again.
“We’ll have to start right now!” the old woman exclaimed. ‘ There’s no time forme to cast any spells.” She barely repressed another yawn. “Also, I do not know if I have the energy. I don’t want things going wrong once more. You’ll just all have to be on your best behavior.”
I breathed deeply. There was something about this handsome prince thing that seemed familiar. Wait a minute. Didn’t that have something to do with me?
“First, you see, “ Mother Duck instructed, “is the kiss to wake him.”
Oh. I breathed more easily, and stopped struggling to open my eyes. Kiss to wake me? That didn’t sound so bad.
“And then, of course,” Mother Duck continued, “the prince will begin his terrible trials of violence to rescue his kingdom from the evil curse.”
“Terrible trials of violence?” a voice squeaked nearby. Something whipped sharply against my side. “Hurry up! It’s time to wake up! It’s time to get out of here!”
“Ow!” I exclaimed, my eyes opening so suddenly that I had difficulty focusing on my surroundings. I managed to blink more normally. The bruise on my thigh had brought me back to wakefulness.
“Well, are we getting out of here or not?”
I looked in the direction of the voice and saw that I still held my sword in my limp fingers.
“Oh, drat!” Mother Duck yelled. “He’s waking up. Well, we’d best start the fairy tale now! Let’s see—um—Once upon a time there was a handsome young prince, who had been put to sleep by a poisoned apple given to him by an evil witch. Now this witch wanted to rule the prince’s fair kingdom, and so brought forth three terrible trials upon the land. The people despaired—um—that is, all except—um—one fair damsel, who knew if she could wake the prince, all could still be saved.” The old woman clapped her hands. “There. Not bad for off the top of my head. Always get the action going quickly—that’s what I always say. So where’s the beautiful damsel?”
Alea pointed to herself. “Do you mean me?”
Mother Duck tapped her foot impatiently. “No, I mean all the other beautiful damsels who are sitting around this clearing. Hurry up and kiss the prince!”
“Wuntie?” Alea asked tentatively.
“Do I have to cast a spell?” Mother Duck inquired darkly.
“Oh, no!” Alea replied, dimpling prettily. “I like kissing Wuntie!”
She skipped happily in my direction.
“Wuntie!” she called, getting into her role. “I am coming to kiss you awake!”
“Pardon me,” I apologized to my sword as I sheathed it. I often was not at my best around Alea, and I thought it prudent to avoid any accident. Still, I supposed I would have to let her kiss me, even though my heart still belonged to Norei, my own true love. After all, I reasoned, a kiss like this was a small thing, and there was no reason to needlessly anger Mother Duck before I could find some opportunity for me and my company to escape.
I therefore stood my ground and puckered, fully ready to take the consequences.
“Kiss him now!” Mother Duck commanded. “Remember, this is the beginning of the story, so make it a good one!”
Alea ran forward, flinging her arms wide.
I am not precisely sure what happened next. Perhaps it was that I was still not fully awake. Whatever the cause, I managed to misjudge Alea’s approach. Somehow, my right arm got in the way of her face.
“Ooh!” the damsel exclaimed. “Watch the fingers, Wuntie!”
I pulled both arms back, trying to stammer an apology. It was then that I lost my balance.
“Kiss him!” Mother Duck demanded. “The story can’t start unless you kiss him!”
But Alea’s arms, seeking to hug me, instead embraced the empty air. I had fallen rather ungracefully to the ground, knocking the breath from my lungs.
“Exhaustion or no exhaustion, Mother Duck is becoming annoyed,” the old woman announced. “Kiss him now, or I cast a spell.”
I realized that, no matter what happened, our chances were far better as long as our lives were still under our own control. Therefore, winded though I was, I struggled quickly to my feet. Unfortunately, Alea seemed in as much of a hurry as myself and was rapidly bending down toward me, her lips puckered and at the ready.
Her jaw hit my forehead with a sharp crack. Both of us recoiled at the sudden pain. Just before the blow, however, I had felt Alea’s lips brush across my forehead.
“Kiss him!” the old woman demanded. “Or you will feel the wrath of Mother Duck!”
“I did!” Alea protested, massaging her chin. I helpfully pointed to where her lips had brushed my scalp.
Mother Duck shook her head disapprovingly. “That’s no way to start a fairy story. We want a real kiss. We want passion. You’re an actress. Act!”
Alea stopped stroking her jaw and managed a smile that still contained a bit of a wince.
“Oh, Wuntie,” she emoted. “I have waited for this moment for so long.”
“That’s better,” Mother Duck encouraged.
“Oh, Alea,” I replied, for I felt something was expected of me. “Urn—How pleasant it is to see you.”
“Not so good,” the old woman murmured. “But we’ll let it pass. It’s time for the hug.”
Alea grabbed me. Her face was very close to mine, her curly blond hair brushing against my nose. It was getting very hot around here again.
“That’s fine,” Mother Duck commented. “So kiss him, and kiss him good. Now, let’s see some tongues!”
“What is going on here?” another woman’s voice cut through the morning air.
My heart leapt, as if it wished to escape from my ribcage and run to my beloved. For I recognized that voice.
It was Norei.
I pushed away from Alea with such suddenness that both of us fell in opposite directions.
“Who is this?” Mother Duck asked, her surprise temporarily conquering her annoyance.
My beloved surveyed all those in the clearing, her arms folded before her. Her gaze paused on the fallen Alea. “There is only so much a maiden can stand.”
“If you say so,” the old woman replied. “May I ask who you are?”
“I am Norei,” my beloved replied, “daughter of one of the most powerful witch families in the Western Woods.”
“A witch family? This gets more and more interesting with every passing minute,” Mother Duck remarked. “Perhaps I will dispense with my control spells altogether. Who knows who, or what, will show up next?”
“Indeed!” I called, jumping up from the ground and drawing my sword in one more or less fluid movement. Ignoring Cuthbert’s startled cry, I rushed quickly to my beloved’s side. I had been a prisoner in Mother Duck’s kingdom long enough to know the true duplicitousness of her nature. I would protect Norei from the old woman’s spells any way I could, though it might cost me my very life.
“Wuntvor?” Norei stared at me in delightful surprise, startled I am sure with the speed with which I reached her side. Her green eyes were opened wide, her beautiful lips slightly parted. I could not help myself.
I kissed her.
“At last!” Mother Duck exclaimed. “Let the fairy tale begin!”
When you are with your beloved, nothing can go wrong. Well, actually, some things can go wrong, I’m afraid 1 know that from experience—really, 1 guess, now that I think of it, all sorts of things can go wrong—Norei! Where are you going?
Some Thoughts on Apprenticeship, by Wuntvor, apprentice to Ebenezum, greatest wizard in the Western Kingdoms
(a discarded early draft)
Norei and I clutched each other as the world around us was suddenly filled with smoke. Somewhere, far away, I heard Mother Duck’s laughter.
“Oh, Wuntvor,” my beloved whispered in my ear. “I know I shouldn’t have shown myself. At least not yet. It’s simply that you have been put through such indignities by that Mother Duck person. It was almost impossible to stand by when your life was repeatedly in danger. And then, when that Alea—“ She paused, unable to continue.
“Do not worry, Norei,” I replied with a conviction that I did not truly feel. “Now that we are together, we have to win.”
“Well, I hope so,” she replied, not wholly convinced herself. “Heaven knows why I get into these things with you, Wuntvor. You can be the most exasperating man in the world.”
I looked as deeply into Norei’s eyes as the dissipating smoke would allow. I knew, when she talked to me that way, that she truly loved me. Sometime, when we were not in the middle of an ongoing crisis, I would have to prove to her how much that love meant to me.
“Doom.” The word echoed all around as a large shape loomed before us in the clearing. A summer breeze sprang up, whisking the remaining smoke away in an instant.
Norei whistled. “This Mother Duck likes her special effects, doesn’t she?”
“Doom.” The large warrior Hendrek appeared before us, the cursed warclub Headbasher at his side. “I am the first trial.”
“Hendrek?” I asked my large friend. “What trial?”
But the large warrior continued to advance on us, his only reply another muttered “Doom.” I tried to catch his eye, but his face was without expression. I understood at once. Apparently, Mother Duck was still exerting her control on some of us.
I lifted my sword before me. “Hendrek, think what you are doing. Don’t force me to use this.”
“Just what are you suggesting?” Cuthbert demanded. “Oh, no matter how many times you have reassured me, I knew this would happen! There’s going to be blood!”
“Your sword is no match for this.” Hendrek smiled unnaturally, lifting his club.
“He’s right, you know,” Cuthbert interjected hurriedly. “Other methods are called for. Methods that don’t involve swords.”
“Come,” the warrior beckoned, “and let me add you to my list of victims.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” my beloved interjected. “If you attack Wuntvor, you must attack me as well!”
What was Norei saying? I thrust my sword even farther forward, ignoring the blade’s whining pleas. I had to protect my beloved!
“Doom,” the warrior replied with a frown. “If that’s the way you want it.” Taking a final step in our direction, he lifted
Headbasher high over his head.
Norei spoke a quick string of arcane syllables, snapping her fingers twice.
The warclub reversed direction and hit Hendrek’s helmet with a resounding clang.
“Do—urk!” the warrior remarked as he crumpled to the ground.
“Simple violence-reversal spell,” the young witch explained.
“I don’t know if it should be going this way,” an older woman’s voice complained somewhere out in the forest.
“Now you know how I felt!” a gruff and wolfish voice replied.
“Mother Duck will not be defeated. It is time for the next trial! And--,” she added, raising her voice, “if anyone uses magic to save the handsome prince, it will be their last act!”
“Norei!” I cried, frightened for my beloved.
But the young witch only smiled at my concern. “Do not worry, Wuntvor. As you said, we are together. We will think of something.”
Once again, from out of nowhere, smoke surrounded us. It cleared even more quickly this time, to show us two demons, one of whom was already beating a drum.
The other demon seemed to hesitate. After a moment he started, as if he had been asleep on his feet, and cleared his throat, a truly horrendous sound. He spoke:
“Guxx—uh—Unfufadoo—er—hypnotized demon, Um—Sees a prince who’s ripe for beating, Sees a prince who’s—uh—ready to topple, Sees someone who—um—will make an okay meal!”
Norei frowned. “Guxx!” she demanded. ‘The rhythm on that is terrible! Do you expect us to quake in fear with verse like that?”
“Um,” Guxx replied, for he, too, seemed to be suffering from one of Mother Duck’s spells. “I suppose not. Um—“ He frowned, his oversized fangs making small marks in his lower lip and chin. “What do you suggest?”
“More active verbs,” Norei suggested. “I mean, what do you do with your meals?”
“Oh, I see.” The demon’s hideous green tongue stuck out of the comer of his mouth as he was temporarily lost in thought. He mumbled: “Guxx Unfufadoo, dada demon, / Sees a prince dadada beating, / Sees dadada dada topple—“
Guxx paused and smiled. “Yes, that’s much better.” He raised his voice and enunciated every word: “Sees a prince who’s good for eat—“
Guxx Unfufadoo began to sneeze.
“A natural rhyming talent!” the drum-beating Brax proclaimed as the larger demon fell to the ground, the sneezing fit getting the better of him.
“There we go,” Norei announced. “You’ve conquered your second trial. And without a bit of magic!”
“This is all wrong!” Mother Duck wailed from her hiding place. “Where have I failed?”
“You didn’t put any talking wolves--,” Jeffrey began.
“I know what it is,” the old woman interrupted summarily. “I’ve been warned about it. It’s Fairy Tale Fatigue. We storytellers always have to be aware of the syndrome.” She heaved an exhausted sigh. “I had always thought myself beyond it—until now—until I met—these people.”
“Think how much easier it would have been though,” Jeffrey interjected, “if you had had the buffer of a talk—“
“One more word out of you--,” Mother Duck screamed, “—and you’re pumpernickel!” She called out to the rest of us: “I remind you, this is the handsome prince’s story. Anyone who interferes with the third trial in any way will have to answer to me!”
And with that, we were once again surrounded by smoke.
“Norei!” I called to my beloved. “Behind me. I must face this trial alone.”
“Wuntvor--,” she began, but the protest died in her throat. She knew I was right. Our chances of escape, even victory, were far greater so long as we did not incur the wrath of Mother Duck.
I heard a great rumbling through the impenetrable fog before me. I knew, even before the smoke cleared, that it was the dragon.
“I have a question,” Cuthbert’s voice quailed from where I still held it before me. “If you’re going to face this menace alone, isn’t it time you sheathed your sword?”
“Perhaps you are right,” I replied, for I had thought of a plan.
“I’m right? I’m actually right? There’s not going to be bloo—“ The sword’s cries of jubilation were lost once he was back in the scabbard.
I looked up to see that the smoke had cleared. There, before me, the size of a castle or a medium large hill, was the fire-breathing reptile—the dragon that I was sure was under Mother Duck’s spell.
Thick smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils as the lizard’s tongue darted forward, searching, I was sure, for my oh-so-edi-ble scent. The dragon breathed in, preparing to fry me where I stood.
It was now or never.
“Hey!” I cried aloft. “It’s showtime!”
The dragon paused. I had to think fast.
I started to sing:
“What do you say to a dragon, When he’s stomping you into the ground? I know my answer for certain, Dragon, I’ll see you around!”
Hubert exhaled, but it was smoke, not fire. He shook his head, as if trying to throw off the rigors of Mother Duck’s magic. I decided to try another verse.
“What do you say to that reptile, When confronted by old dragon fire? You tell the lizard you’re sorry, But you just have to retire!”
Hubert’s tail started to swing in time to my singing. I had him now! I quickly continued.
“What do you say to a dragon, When he waits for battle so hard? Well, it seems that you just have to travel, But maybe you’ll send him a card!”
Hubert’s whole body was swaying by now. It was time to finish it.
‘Take it, dragon!” I screamed. ‘
And Hubert began to dance, bounding happily back and forth across the clearing as I sang the verses once again. As I had hoped, theater was too strong in his blood. With luck, I had found something Mother Duck could never conquer.
“No, no, no--,” the old woman began, bounding out from her hiding place behind the trees. She stopped to consider. “Well, I suppose it will have to do, at least for this run-through. Now, though, we have to find a suitable conclusion.”
“Oops!” came a voice from high overhead.
“Richard!” Mother Duck looked up, infuriated. “Your timing is terrible. Can’t you see we’re busy?”
But the giant would not be deterred. “See what I’ve found!” Richard had the shoe.
“Really?” the old woman’s anger vanished. “What a good giant. Quickly, Richard, tell me what’s inside.”
“Oops,” the giant replied as he stuck his index finger in the shoe. He shifted the footwear around to peer inside.
“Uh,” he answered at last, “leather, mostly.”
“I know about the leather!” Mother Duck replied, exasperation once again entering her voice. “But there’s something else in there, too. What is it?”
“Oh.” Richard turned the shoe upside down and shook it. He looked inside one more time, then frowned miserably down at Mother Duck.
“Nothing,” was his answer.
Nothing? What had happened to my master?
“Nothing?” the old woman demanded. “That isn’t possible!”
And then the earth began to quake.
“It cannot be!” Mother Duck raged.
But it was. I recognized all the signs: the violent tremors, the great clouds of dust, the sudden appearance of crevices in the earth.
And then the shaking stopped, and the dust cleared. There was the table with the five demons.
“Vushta!” the gavel demon cried in triumph. “We have you at last!”
But the demons’ cheers died when they saw the old woman.
“Uh-oh,” the gavel demon remarked.
‘That’s it,” Mother Duck replied, all too casually. “You will never see the Netherhells again.”
The demons all started talking at once.
“But Mother Duck, there was wizard magic—“
“Lots of it, Mother Duck—“
“And witch magic, too, Mother Duck—“
“Richard?” the old woman called to the giant. “I need your assistance.”
“Oops!” The giant dropped the shoe and lumbered toward the committee.
“I see your master’s plan!” Norei clapped me on the shoulder. “Oh, how brilliant!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the fallen shoe. “Quickly, Wuntvor, we must get inside!”
I knew there was no time for questions. I did as my beloved bade.
At the far end of the clearing, Mother Duck and Richard faced the committee.
“Please, Mother Duck--,” the demons pleaded.
“There’s no other magic going on anywhere, Mother Duck—“
“We’ll make a deal with you, Mother Duck! You show us where Vushta is, and we’ll split it with you, fifty-fifty.” The demon tried to smile ingratiatingly. Richard lumbered another step. “Uh, sixty-forty?”
But the old woman was unmoved by their pleas. “I do not want Vushta. I want my kingdom demon-free!”
We reached the shoe. Norei turned to the others in the clearing. “All of you,” she called, “flee now, while Mother Duck is occupied. It is part of the wizard’s plan!”
All those in the clearing fled. Norei scaled quickly up the shoe, using the eyelets for handholds and footholds. I followed as soon as she had dropped inside. I took a final look at the combatants before I, too, entered the footwear.
“Don’t force us to get rough, Mother Duck--,” one of the demons wailed.
“You’d better watch out, Mother Duck--,” another added.
“We can boil blood, Mother Duck--,” the demon in the flowered hat insisted.
The old woman sneered at their threats. “I don’t think there’s going to be any boiling around here. I think it’s time to bake, instead. Richard?”
Norei pulled at my pants leg. I dropped down inside the shoe. The interior, while large enough to fit my master, seemed a little snug for two. I felt myself being pressed close to Norei.
“Quickly, Wuntvor!” my beloved insisted, gently pushing me away. ‘The words!”
Oh, that was right. The words! Now what were they? It was hard to breathe in these close confines. I managed to inhale anyway, and spoke:
“Happily ever after.”
Nothing happened.
I saw Norei frowning in the dim light, her lips beautiful even in concentration.
“Why didn’t they work?” she wondered. “They must have been muffled by the shoe leather. Poke your head out and try again. And say them slowly and distinctly.”
I did as my beloved bade, climbing up so that my mouth was just above the top of the shoe. I was more exposed this way, though. I knew I would have to speak quickly, before Mother Duck could act.
“Happily--,” I began.
“What’s that?” Mother Duck asked, turning her head.
“. . . ever--,” I continued.
“Oh, no!” the old woman screamed. “The fairy tale! I didn’t stop—“
“... after!” I concluded. There was another puff of smoke. I was thrown back inside the shoe. Norei grabbed my hand as the giant footwear lurched off the ground.
We seemed to be flying.
“At least that’s over.”
Final remarks made by Ebenezum, greatest mage in the Western Kingdoms, upon at last discovering an exit from the secret passageways that actually led outside the castle of King Snerdlot the Vengeful. Rumor has it that, despite the rigors of the night, the wizard managed to stagger clear of the castle and its surroundings, tactfully ignoring the dozens of love notes thrown by Queen Vivazia and her handmaidens until he had reached the safety of the forest.
When we came out of the shoe, there was a rainbow overhead.
His Brownieship beamed up at us. “Is that Brownie Power or what?”
Norei had explained my master’s plan as we had flown. At the first likely diversion during Mother Duck’s tale, he and His Brownieship would find a means to transport me beyond the ruler of the Eastern Kingdom’s power. The shoe was an ideal vehicle for that transportation, and when Ebenezum stayed around within it long enough to engage Mother Duck’s curiosity, he guaranteed that it would be brought, without even having to use magic, back to Wuntvor by Mother Duck’s minions. Then, once I was inside, all I had to do was shout three words to end the fairy tale, and His Brownieship did the rest.
I smiled down at the small fellow in the leather crown.
“Indeed,” I replied, trying to place our exact location. We were still in the Eastern Woods, but in one of the clearings we had visited earlier, where we had first destroyed one of the dwarves’ warning signs. I could still hear the sounds of distant battle, and I discovered that, if I craned my neck, I could see the top of the giant’s head.
“We should move quickly,” I announced. “We need to get out of here before the battle ends.”
“Oh, it’ll take them awhile,” Smarmy announced as he and the other dwarves entered the clearing.
“It always does!” Snooty added.
“Indeed?” I replied. “This has happened before?”
“Regularly!” the dwarves answered in unison.
“This could take weeks!” Nasty shouted.
“And what do we get to do?” Touchy chimed in. “Sit on our hands!”
“Wuntvor?” my beloved interjected. “I still think it might be better if we returned to Vushta and the Western Kingdoms with all due speed. Even though Mother Duck appears to be fighting our battle, we still have a war.”
Norei was right, and I told her so. We would leave as soon as all our party had gathered together.
The dwarves and His Brownieship were already here. The beating of a drum heralded the arrival of Guxx and Brax, and Snarks arrived shortly thereafter, complaining about the conditions of his robes. There was a flapping of wings overhead, and Hubert landed in the middle of the clearing, Alea astride his back. The unicorn galloped into our midst and proceeded to gaze moodily in my direction. Hendrek was next, using his great warclub to smash through the underbrush. I saw, as he approached, that he carried Tap upon his shoulder. And, fast upon his heels, I heard a joyous eeping as my ferret bounded forth to greet me.
We were almost all here, then. All save my master. But where was Ebenezum? Where might he have hidden when he gave up the shoe?
There was a rustling in the bushes behind me.
“Master?” I called.
But it was not Ebenezum, but instead Jeffrey who skulked into our midst.
“Anybody know of any openings for talking wolves?” he asked hopefully.
I had no time to answer his query. I looked down at His Brownieship.
“But where is my master?”
A wind as cold as winter sprung up before His Smallness could answer. I spun about as I heard that familiar dry chuckle. But why would he be here now, when all my companions were about me?
I looked into the face of Death.
“Greetings,” the spectre whispered, the sound of snow falling over frozen tundra. “I usually don’t speak before such a large audience. At least not an audience of the living.”
Norei grabbed my arm. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “There are too many of us. You cannot take Wuntvor now!”
“I do not need Wuntvor—now.” Death grinned. “I have another new addition to my kingdom.” He paused, and stared straight at me. “A wizardry addition.”
“My master?” I blurted.
Death nodded. “The wizard Ebenezum. I found him, all alone in the forest. But he has joined me now.”
“No!” I screamed. “You cannot take him!”
The spectre shrugged. ‘True, it is not yet his time. But Death takes who he wants, when he wants.”
I could stand no more of this. With a scream of rage I drew my sword and ran for the spectre.
Death did not move, except to extend his hands toward me. He laughed at my approach, the sound of thunder above a forest fire.
I stopped, realizing that even now I dared not risk the spectre’s touch. Killing myself would not save my master.
“You hesitate?” Death asked. “Then perhaps we can negotiate. The wizard might yet again walk the earth. I would release his soul on certain conditions.”
The spectre pointed a single bone-white finger at me.
“I would consider a trade.”
“Wuntvor! No!” Norei cried.
“Oh, I don’t want to be hasty about this thing,” Death quickly added. “I will let the Eternal Apprentice consider his options. Remember, Death has all the time in the world. When you are ready, Wuntvor, all you have to do is say my name.”
The spectre vanished, his laughter hanging in the air for a moment before it, too, faded away.
I turned back to the others. Death had my master. What should I do?
My companions were talking all around me. Norei looked at me, her face full of concern. She might have asked me a question. I did not know.
All I could hear was Death’s laughter, ringing in my ears.