by Rick Johnson
“What will you do with us?” Frunge asked.
“I am not a cruel sovereign,” the High One replied with a cunning smile. “I am granting one of your greatest wishes. Your mindless greed for silver has brought you nearly to the top. You have bought and bribed your way to within a whisker of toppling the High One. Such an accomplishment should not go unnoticed or unrewarded.”
“What will you do with us?” Frunge repeated, a note of fear now in his voice.
“Marshall of the Drops, Sludge, can have the honors of explaining,” Fropperdaft said, deferring to the Hawk.
“His Excellency’s Airimon Aviar is being prepared for flight,” the Vulture replied. “When it is ready to launch, you will be strapped to a position staddling a cask of silver and loaded aboard the airship. When the craft is launched, the High One will be in the pilot’s seat, and I will be in the cabin with the two of you. The High One will decide when I should roll the casks out of the airship.”
“Roll us out of the airship!” Frunge cried in terror.
“And what did you have in mind for me?” the High One replied. “In the game of winner-takes-all you have played, the stakes are, shall I say, very high. But, again, take heart. You will be in the deep embrace of silver to the end—was that not your goal?”
~~~~~~~~~
When the thunderous WHOOOSH of the Airimon Aviar’s launch rolled across Walloper’s Hold a couple of hours later, the unearthly howl set the water and streets vibrating. Workers dropped their tools. Cakes fell flat as they baked. Children wailed and clung to their pets. The sails of ships in the harbor ruffled, despite there being no wind. For miles around, beasts covered their ears and felt their fur tingle in the shock wave.
Atop the airship, Fropperdaft howled in delight, feeling the the powerful launch cause the airship to shake violently. The giant cones of water spraying out of the airship’s bottom were absolutely scary as they pushed the High One back in his seat. Everything in the craft rattled so wildly that the passengers and cargo would have been flung about, were they not strapped down. Then the craft began to rotate rapidly, rolling around and around on its vertical axis, churning every beast inside with an intensely sickening spin. Shaking, rattling, rolling—could the airship hold together?
Yet, despite the frightening possibility that the airship might break apart under the stress, Fropperdaft was absolutely delirious with glee!
“Faster! Faster!” he howled. “Come, come, Frunge! Why so quiet? Not enjoying the ride?” he yelled.
Frunge was frozen mute, so completely terrified that he was hardly breathing, let alone able to say anything. But Colonel Snart was screaming like a banshee. “AIEEEE! WE’RE GOING TO DIE! NOOOOO! AIEEEE!”
In the end, the craft held together, and the lift portion of the flight was over quickly. In under two minutes, the propulsion tubes were empty and the airship had reached its maximum altitude. With forward movement slowing, Fropperdaft moved a lever to extend the wings and tail. In seconds, the craft leveled out in silent gliding flight. At a dizzying distance beneath them, the land and sea rolled out as far as the eye could see.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! It works!” the High One shrieked in triumph. “Eat my vapor, you idiots! Whooo-Wheee! Ha!” he laughed as he steered the airship first one way, then another, soaring high above Walloper’s Hold.
“Where shall we drop you?” he called back into the cabin. “How about we roll you out over the ships in the harbor? Hitting the deck at something over two hundred miles an hour should slam you through several decks, and land you in the bilge! Whooo-Hooo! Or, I could drop you in on the rocks by Maev Astuté itself! That might be most fitting. So many choices! Aaaaaa-Hoooo! Waaaah-Hooooo!” Slapping his thigh in delight, he circled the area for nearly thirty minutes, before making up his mind.
Once the flight had settled down, Marshall Sludge unbuckled his safety harness and joined the High One, kneeling beside him at the front of the cabin. Enjoying the amazing view from the pilot’s window, the Vulture smiled proudly as he observed the success of an Aviafia attack he had ordered against the disloyal Skull Buzzards. Having moved most of their troops out of Walloper’s Hold to confront what they thought was an imminent invasion from Davison’s forces, the Skull Buzzards were now trapped along the seashore. Several drops of Aviafias had swarmed the woods behind the Skull Buzzards, dropping dozens of torches, igniting a raging fire. The Buzzards found themselves trapped between the advancing fire and the sea. Retreat by land was impossible. To escape the racing flames, the Buzzards were forced to fall back across the beach. Plunging into the sea, they waded out into the water until only their heads were showing. Unable to swim in their heavy uniforms, they bobbed helplessly in the surf.
“Good work, Marshall Sludge! Your Drops have done an excellent job!” the High One cried. “Excellent! Excellent! Let them soak themselves! Ha! Ha!”
Intending to make one final long circle high above Walloper’s Hold, Fropperdaft turned the airship to the left. As he made the banking turn, he said to Marshall Sludge, “In honor of my brother’s military service, I’ll devote his last moments to the defense of the realm. The casks of silver will do serious damage to those invading ships. As soon as we level out again, Marshall Sludge, I’ll come in over the invading ships, and you can roll the casks out!”
But the words were hardly out of his mouth, when Colonel Snart thrust his arm around his brother’s neck from behind. Pulling back hard, he put Fropperdaft in a ferocious choke-hold. Ripping him away from the pilot’s controls, Snart yelled, “If I’m going down, you’re going with me! Me a scoundrel! You’re the King of Scoundrels!”
During the violent launch, the tremendous rattling and shaking had loosened the bolts holding the straps that shackeled Colonel Snart. With a strong lunge forward, the bolt tore loose, freeing the Colonel. In an instant, Fropperdaft was gasping and struggling for his life.
Uncertain how to react at first, Marshall Sludge finally grabbed the controls, pulling the craft back to level. Snart and Fropperdaft rolled and tumbled behind him. With Fropperdaft first gasping as if each wretched breath was his last, then Snart kicking as if death was at his door, each moment of the life or death struggle seemed an eternity.
Hearing the tide of battle turn again, with his sovereign losing ground in the struggle, Marshall Sludge leaped into the fray. With no pilot at the controls, the nose of the aircraft dropped, and it began a slow spiral downward. Battling with all the skill of his military training, Snart held his own against Fropperdaft and Sludge in the physical struggle, but the out of control airship increasingly made the struggle pointless. Without a pilot at the controls, a devastating crash was inevitable.
Perhaps, one of the last things that any of the beasts aboard the airship heard was the casks of silver blowing open on impact. Later, when the crash site was investigated, workers were astonished to find the wreckage coated with silver dust.
Any Beast Can Dance
For the first time in almost nine hundred years, the endless column of beasts making the sacred climb to Maev Astuté stopped, then reversed itself. Skull Buzzards, whose duty it was to keep the line of climbers moving, took no action to force the ancient climb back into its proper course. How many poor exhausted beasts that been pitched into the icy abyss for being unable to continue! And now everyone simply quit.
There was no secret or confusion about what had happened. Everyone was talking! The stupendous launch of the High One’s airship was impossible to ignore. Its thunderous ascent high above even the top of Maev Astuté had stunned every one. How could even a Skull Buzzard not gape in wonder at such a sight? Almost like a bolt of lightning, every beast in sight of the event knew: the High One, their sovereign, was at the controls of the most wondrous machine ever seen! Higher than Maev Astuté! Soaring like the birds themselves! It was too astonishing to believe. And then, the pitching, tumbling fall—the tremendous crash and mysterious silver cloud rising from the wreckage. The High One dead? Could it be? And what of the moveme
nt of Skull Buzzards against a rumor of invading beasts from afar? Dawn breaking to find the harbor filled with invader’s ships! What of the raging fire set by Aviafias? It was dizzying. What was happening?
Then, the most wondrous tidings of all! The Graven Sot’s writings had been found! Shock and bewilderment changed to relief and knowledge. The whisper spread form beast to beast. Of course! It all made sense now. The Graven Sot had foretold this day. The day when the old order would be pulled down and a new one raised up! Or so many said at first. Crowds of beasts surged in the streets, flocking to catch a glimpse of the precious tome that was to be displayed in the central square of Walloper’s Hold. Beyond a doubt—so it was said—the precious book was in the possession of Fix Knutt! Beasts ran over each other, pushing and scrambling to get a look. Yammering, shrieking, crying tears by the bucket! The well-to-do, who had always said that no good thing could come from the particular street where Fix Knutt had his shop, mostly stayed in their houses with the shades drawn.
But then, what can really be said against a book that suddenly appears after nine hundred years? How does one dispute such a miraculous, prodigiously spectacular event? So it was that many beasts, who had never had such a thought before, were now heard to say, “Well, of course, it’s always been there in my mind—didn’t say it because it was forbidden, but I always knew that Maev Astuté was doomed. What? You didn’t know that the Graven Sot’s words were true as true can be? Every beast knew that!”
And so the impulse to simply quit the old ways—not rebel against them, just up and quit them one day—took a new and powerful hold on the folk of Walloper’s Hold. They just up and quit—whatever it was that had held them in thrall for nine hundred years, they had quit it. The excitement grew higher and higher. Soon the town was packed, filling all available space; and over filling them.
Yet, despite the astonishing turn of events, Tē’d’Tē was not easy in her mind.
“It’s not wise to be too sure of this change,” she said to Davison, after he came ashore. “There are shutters closed and doors locked all over certain neighborhoods. The happy beasts in the streets are not the stubborn and ruthless ones. What about them?”
And this was also true. That very day, toward evening, a rumor flew through the town that some of the leading citizens were demanding to see “the grand beast who claimed authority over the town. Who was it that put themselves over the Hedgelands?” So the excitement and anticipation of the common beasts was now greater than ever, for no one knew that answer. The streets surged with the energy of a great revolution that, as yet, had no purpose.
Davison called his council together again. Now, even his own plans were outdated. No one had anticipated the tremendous change that Fropperdaft himself had unleashed. His greatest invention, his most monumental experiment, although it had ended in disaster, had now created something even greater. The Hedgelands now yearned for a novelty that it had never had. Something must be seen, that had never been seen before. But what?
“Look, my friends,” Davison began, “do you see that we have the most remarkable possibilities here? What should be done? I had fancied we would have to battle for much less than we already have achieved! I imagined a much smaller victory, and now I find myself unprepared for the gigantic proportions of what has happened.”
Without hesitation, Tē’d’Tē burst out, “The past is clogged with renowed generals and rulers of all types who are born on a ramp that carries them up. One can’t count how many times that has been done. But what of the beasts whose renown is yet to be shown in what they can, and will, do? Here, such beasts as that are like the stars in the night sky, if we will only look! Those are the grandest beasts of all! Let us show them that!”
“And how will we do that?” Davison asked.
“Sweet Ella!” Tē’d’Tē exclaimed. “Call the folk together. All of them. Frock-coats and leather aprons, silk purses and dirty dungarees. If the well-to-do demand to see who claims authority, let them come and see. Let them come and be part of it. If we wait for them to hang a placard of approval around our necks, it will be something other than a placard of approval! It will be a noose, and nine hundred more years thinking that eating potatoes and carrying stones up a mountain are the reasons we live. Sweet Ella! We don’t have time for such rot! Life under the High Ones has not been so sweet, that I have trouble calling it tyranny!”
“Open up to all and everyone?” Motty Nam cried.
“Yes, think of it!” Tē’d’Tē replied with excitement. “Imagine the streets, shops, and countryside filled with free talk, rough and ready arguments and consultation about all and everything needed to improve Hedgelands! For now, we’ll deal only with the needs of the moment. Call all the beasts in Walloper’s Hold and beyond it—so far as Frinnet and Crassmore—to choose a council like ourselves. Let that council then consult with the folk on this new path for Hedgelands. Let any beast serve, but no beasts put themselves forward. Let any beast be chosen, but no beast be forced or championed. Any beast can dance at this party. The one thing we cannot tolerate is that we be forbidden to dance! Let that be a beginning, then let us see what comes next.”
If Walloper’s Hold had had good days before, no one knew what to call the five days of sweat, feasting, arguing, and play that followed. And it was just as the later histories record. The questions were put to the citizens of Walloper’s Hold and the region around, so far as Frinnet and Crassmore, as to who should serve on the council. Which citizens would best:
Call themselves to account each day in light of the well-being of the weakest in the realm?
Seek to be close to, and consult the ideas of, all the citizens?
Ask the best questions for the well-being of the realm?
See to it that good education was available to all?
It took several weeks to move beyond the idea into action. But within a month, a new council functioned in Walloper’s Hold and was beginning to place the Hedgelands on a new footing. Good sense and common hopes mingled, and mixed it up with coarse and rowdy debate in the mug-houses and workshops. And, although not all was sweetness and light, the bitter darkness of the past had been banished. As the beasts struggled with problems and with each other, one passage of the Graven Sot’s writings came to symbolize the direction they had taken.
A beast who sees for herself is not a slave to what she is told. If we are sometimes slow to see the right, it is also true that blindess must not be enforced by law. We must search out what is right, as a new territory to be explored and mapped.
At first, many of her friends clamoured for Tē’d’Tē to step forward to lead the council. But the Weasel steadfastly refused. “Sweet Ella! I’m not that kind of beast,” she said. “I organize by disorganizing—create by disrupting. Just let me start teaching the young beasts again. Let the folk decide for themselves who they want for the council. If you tell folk who you think is best, you’re talking down to them, and they know it. That would kill this whole experiment. Most of the folk have never heard of me. I like it that way. Just let me teach. These good beasts don’t need us to pick their leaders for them. And besides, all of Hedgelands needs to be brought together in this. My circulating around, starting schools, will help that to happen.” With that, Tē’d’Tē was off like a whirlwind, criss-crossing the Hedgelands, starting schools.
Late at night, awhile after the new council had been chosen, Tē’d’Tē was returning to her lodgings in a village some distance from Walloper’s Hold when she saw a crowd gathered around a Prups wagon. The beasts gathered around it had apparently just left work, for their clothes were soiled from heavy labor. Despite their exhaustion, or perhaps because of it, since the hour was late, they were tossing down Fried Prups and chasing them with mugs of Skull Varnish Ale.
“Smells good,” Tē’d’Tē thought, as she walked over to join the crowd.
“If all this stuff about electing a council will make things better,” a Beaver was saying, taking a long pull on his mug, “mark
my words, it’ll be illegal and forgotten in a month!”
“Aye,” said a Sheep with blazing red whiskers. “Nothing ever changes in the Hedgelands. They make darn sure of that. Always have. Always will.”
“What makes you think that?” Tē’d’Tē asked, the hairs tingling on her neck.
“Because complaining is just being a tiny flea on a big dog,” the Sheep replied. “Some of us bite, but the dog don’t really care. Why should he?”
“Think of yourself as a flea, and you get treated like a flea,” Tē’d’Tē cried. “We’re free beasts and we’re going to start acting that way.”
Tē’d’Tē was about to say more, when there was a movement in the crowd, and she had to step aside. Stepping back, she saw a group of beasts, masks pulled over their faces, pushing into the crowd with clubs. The crowd parted to make way.
“There she is!” one of the beasts yelled, pointing at Tē’d’Tē.
“Yes, here I am,” Tē’d’Tē replied calmly. “What do you want with me?”
“First, we want your weapons,” the beast said.
“I don’t have any weapons,” Tē’d’Tē replied.
“Listen, Weasel,” the beast snarled, “I asked for your weapons! And I mean to have them!”
“Is that all you want from me?” Tē’d’Tē said.
“The Bozz wants you to stop making trouble,” the beast said. “He’s the authority around here now, and he doesn’t like you. Keep it up, and it’ll be the death of you.”
“Ah,” Tē’d’Tē smiled. “Now I see how it is. Well, the only weapon I have is a free mind, and the will be speak it clearly. The only things I wish to see dead, are ignorance and injustice. If your Bozz is so afraid of a young beast like me, who has no other weapons or hatreds than these, maybe you’re the ones who should be afraid. Perhaps he’s so feeble he can’t protect you from anything. I think such beasts must be afraid of their own shadows.”