Heart of the Staff - Complete Series

by Carol Marrs Phipps

  James and Mary's arrival brought the first word, eight days after Spitemorta and Demonica fell. By the time everyone got there from Peach Knob, the entire New Dragon Caves was already immersed in the merriment of a grand celebration. And with the release of all of Razorbauch's evils from the Heart and Staff, Spark, Lipperella and all of the other dragons who had been naked since their capture in the Mammvro were passionately scratching at their emerging pin-feathers as well.

  Spark was doing just that as he sat at the board, piled high with new peas, roasts and pies, candied rats and jugs of opuntia punch in the garden outside of Lipperella's kitchen, the moment Hubba Hubba landed on a new agave spike.

  “Look 'ee at the three hundredweight squab,” said Hubba Hubba, zipping his beak down a flight feather.

  “Yea,” said Spark. “Almost as bad as this crow, too fat and oily to fly, that I used to know.”

  “Well I ended up flying again, just like you and Lipperella will be up in the blue before you know it, a-keeping up with that mob of yours,” he said, going after the other wing. “And say. Good job they all made it home. Aye?”

  Suddenly Spark stopped scratching and stared away beyond the revelers into the distance. “Oh good Fates, yes,” he said.

  With everyone back home to celebrate, one might imagine life returning to what it had been before the war, but it was soon obvious that things would never be the same.

  Not everyone wanted to leave for Niarg, Goll or Loxmere. The desert was home to those born and raised there, at the very least.

  “But you've just had a taste of a lovely spring in Niarg, Lily,” said Rose, sharing a look with Fuzz. “Outside of the cold winter, it's much milder than this awful desert. How could you ever want to stay here?”

  “We think this desert is every bit as beautiful,” said Lily, taking Edward's hand.

  “And it's the only home I've ever known. Couldn't you and Father stay here?”

  “Well what about Edward’s promise to Brude Talorg?”

  “Marr is not in Niarg, Mother...”

  “Oh I'm afraid I've given my word on that one,” said Edward. “Talorg still has a lot of years ahead of him, so if I have to run about in woad and tattoos in order to be ready, I'd like to do it where it's warm...”

  Fuzz barked out a woof of laughter.

  “You'd surely not run about undressed like a...” said Rose with a blush.

  “That's probably a bit more Beaky than I could manage.”

  “But I should suppose you'd actually have to, to sit on their throne...” said Rose.

  “Only if he comes here and tells me,” said Edward.

  Fuzz shoved back from the table with a snort, spilling tea down his front.

  “Well,” said Lily. “Now that you have Edward straightened out, may we please get on with the wedding? Those must be guests I hear outside.”

  “Let's go get you dressed,” said Rose as Edward and Fuzz wandered out into the sunlight and hummingbirds hovering at blooms everywhere in the joyous desert garden.

  Ariel and Soraya were already in Lily's chamber, sitting by the cascades of wisteria spilling through her ceiling as they pinned flowers into Ariel's silver blonde hair.

  Rose and Lily paused in the doorway to admire Ariel's wedding gown. “She's beautiful,” said Lily.

  Soon Lily was radiant in her own wedding dress with Soraya and Rose standing back to admire. “It was mine and Mother's before me,” said Rose. “And I've never been to a double wedding before.” She squeezed Soraya's hand. “And here we are, mother of one bride and aunt to the other. I'll go see if they're ready for us yet and find Lukus and Fuzz.”

  Presently there was a flourish from a bagpipe and a pair of bodhrans and the two beautiful brides came down the sandy isle on their fathers' arms through the great hushed crowd of guests. Ariel had a special joy at Lukus's newly found admiration for Abaddon.

  And Abaddon! Yes. There he was, standing with Edward, flanked by Daniel, Lance, Eflamm and Spark on one side, and Ash, Avel, Laora and Teeuh, on the other. Hubba Hubba and Pebbles had the rings. And before them stood Minuet, ready to perform the ceremony.

  It was soon a wonderful dream of a memory, folded into a swirl of congratulations, feasting and dancing to fiddles into the wee hours of the night. No one noticed when the newlyweds slipped out, but that is how it should be with all new beginnings.

  Chapter 209

  It was the very kind of sunny day in May that Neron had loved, with every manner of spring peeper, toad and chorus frog singing from the banks of Lake Jutland.

  Grebes ducked out of sight in the glistening water. Bees scurried about on the heads of dandelions in the new grass. Orioles sang from the profusion of blossoms in the orchard and locust trees above the tangle of briars.

  His funeral was somber but diverse, considering where it was, with Elves, Fairies and other humans, dragons, trolls and even a few centaurs and cyclopses. Razzmorten officiated and many friends and family gave fond remembrances. Veyfnaryr (who was wearing nothing but the dark cobalt glass spectacles he had just invented in order to stand being out in the light) not only had his words to add, but also made certain that Neron was laid to rest beside his dear wife Nessa, near their son Orry and great-grandson Jarund, and even used his magic to inscribe Neron's headstone.

  A feast followed the ceremony at boards set up in the tumble of pink quartz rubble under the great maidenhair tree. Razzmorten sat beside Veyfnaryr and across from Illiam. “Have you decided where the Elves will live from now on, Illiam?” he said.

  Illiam put down his knife. “I wasn't about to make such a decision myself,” he said, “so the council and I made certain that every last Elf at New Gairdin was consulted.

  What remains seems to be a choice between staying in New Gairdin or settling in the Chokewoods between the Fairy River and the Dragon Caves along the coast. Everyone seems satisfied with me making the final choice.”

  Veyfnaryr put down his leg of lamb. “I beg your pardon,” he said, wiping his mouth on his arm, “but might I make a third suggestion? I've also been asking about amongst my people and we would be right willing to leave the Jutwoods so that you Elves might return to your rightful homes and restore this great castle. After all, we stole it from you.”

  “My word!” said Illiam, looking Veyfnaryr up and down. “That is an astounding offer. But I must agree with Father, that there are just too many bad memories for us here.

  I would ask instead that any Elf might have free passage to our grave yard.”

  “Certainly,” said Veyfnaryr, licking his fingers and throwing aside his hair to keep it off his leg o' lamb. “All Elves shall have a right to come and go here as they please.”

  “Splendid!” said Illiam. “And Thunderman. I certainly see why my father thought so highly of you.”

  “King Neron was my friend. I know that we caused the bad memories, and I've now danced with Dyrjinyryy for many days on end, hoping that someday Elves and trolls will be friends.”

  “The day may come.”

  “Then I shall not abandon my dancing.”

  “And you've convinced me to decree that our new home shall be right across the river in the Chokewood Forest.”

  Veyfnaryr gave a whistle and called for two great chalices of vinegary mead and the rest of the four gallon jug which was uncorked to pour them. After a grand bumper and a great fruity, “Aah!” he wiped his mouth and nodded at someone beyond.

  Illiam turned about to see.

  “That Dyrney yonder, with the great fat snake wound about his neck,” said Veyfnaryr. “Where'd he come from? He's not of this clan...”

  “Ah but he is,” said Illiam, “He's been with us in the Black Desert since before you were born. His name is Vyrpudi.”

  “King Neron told me about him. He's your prisoner?”

  “Not at all. That was years ago. We invited him along because we thought he might want to rejoin his people, now that the witch is dead. Shall I introduce you?”

  �
�I'd be delighted.”

  Illiam gave a wave.

  “Yes Your Majesty?” said Vyrpudi.

  “You speak Niarg Standard!” cried Veyfnaryr. “This is wonderful. I'm Thunderman Veyfnaryr.”

  “I'm right honored. I'm Vyrpudi. And this is Shot 'n' Stop. I used to be Dyrney, but I'm an Elf now. And you're the only magical thunderman that ever was.”

  “Perhaps the first,” said Veyfnaryr, “but surely not the only. I'd love to have an advisor who speaks proper Niarg. Would you like to come live here?”

  “I might, if it be allowed,” he said, pausing for a glance at Illiam. “But I've all sorts of friends who are Elves, especially the diatryma birds and this fat old snake, and I need time to think. Must I give an answer just now?”

  “Fthankss!” said Shot 'n' Stop.

  Veyfnaryr looked up suddenly, not certain what he had just heard. “Well please do think about it, then,” he said.

  Vyrpudi nodded.

  “We shall be moving to the Chokewoods, just south of here,” said Illiam. “If you want to be a Dyrney again you certainly have my blessing, but we would love to have you stay on with us.”

  “I exthsspect he'ss far too old and ffat to ever change hiss habitssess” said Shot 'n' Stop.

  “You were indeed talking!” said Veyfnaryr.

  “Yea?” said Shot 'n' Stop. “It ssounded ath sthough you were too.”

  “Shot 'n' Stop once saved King Neron's life,” said Vyrpudi, “and Prince Abbey's as well. And it was he who killed the vile witch Ugleeuh.”

  “It was you who ssaved Abbey,” said Shot 'n' Stop. “But you're ssimply too old and ffat to remember...”

  “Ugleeuh?” said Veyfnaryr. “I've not heard of that witch.”

  “She was Spitemorta's mother,” said Vyrpudi. “That made her your grandmother.”

  “But Demonica was my grandmother...”

  “No,” said Vyrpudi. “Spitemorta was your fmoo. Ugleeuh was your fmoo-fmoo.

  Demonica was your fmoo-fmoo-fmoo.”

  “And must every one of my kin be evil?” said Veyfnaryr.

  “Not at all,” said Razzmorten, standing up to cast about through the crowd. “I've been trying to find the moment for this amongst all that has been going on. Aah! Here.”

  And he waved someone over at once. “This gorgeous young woman is Teeuh...”

  “I've been seeing you here and there in the crowd all morning,” said Veyfnaryr.

  “You have wings like unto a moth. What kind of creature are you?”

  “Teeuh is your twin sister...” said Razzmorten.

  “Plesed am I thee to meete,” said Teeuh with a curtsey, “but Ich was fro thine twyn suster Nasteeuh by Longbarke ymaad. A Ffairye am Ich.”

  “I've heard tell of you,” said Veyfnaryr, “but I am altogether lost.”

  “I begge thy pardon, but in the myddest of som thyng Ich was juste now,” she said, putting a delicate hand on his arm, “But byforn I leve, how al this coom to buen I shal to telle. For now, lat me to fynden for thee thy fader Kyng James and thy eldre brother Abaddon.”

  “And this is the very Abaddon who slew Spitemorta?” said Veyfnaryr.

  “He is indeed,” said Razzmorten.

  The drumming of woodpeckers echoed in the woods beyond the graveyard.

  Blackbirds clacked and rasped, strutting in the grass between the dandelions and hyacinths. Lukus wended his way between the stones to the dogwoods standing in full bloom, where he found Soraya with Strom and Danneth at Jarund's grave. “There you are,” he said. “Illiam's back at the food, about to make an announcement.”

  “We just found out about this,” said Danneth, nodding at the grave. “I certainly never expected it when we fled, leaving him under that huge piece of quartz.”

  “Grandfather and Veyfnaryr moved his remains,” said Strom. “Did you know about it?”

  “I saw his headstone during the funeral,” said Lukus, “but it didn't seem the time to ask questions.”

  “Veyfnaryr told us,” said Soraya. “He thought we should know.”

  “Odd that Neron never spoke of it,” said Lukus.

  “Veyfnaryr thought that Grandfather would've told us once Spitemorta fell,” said Soraya.

  “Shall we find out what Ri Illiam has to say?” said Lukus as he offered his arm.

  Illiam rose and pecked on his chalice with his knife. “I have made my decision,” he said, speaking out when he had everyone's attention. “We shall begin this new age by making a new settlement across the river in the Chokewoods, where we shall always be free to visit Oilean Gairdin and any other cherished place in the Jutwoods. And no one who wishes to remain, will be forced to leave his home in New Gairdin. Thank you.” And he sat back down at once.

  “That's it?” said Danneth.

  “Oh he's not much for pomp or speeches,” said Soraya.

  “It was enough, wasn't it?” said Lukus. “I mean, there's everyone's future. What else needs to be said?”

  “So what about the dragons? Are they coming back to the old Dragon Caves?” said Soraya.

  “They're staying,” said Danneth. “'The air flies better over all the black sand,' is how I think they've been putting it.”

  “And every blooming one of them is going to be flying,” said Lukus.

  “This whole score of years has been naught but getting the twins ready to save us,” said Soraya. “And now that they have, nothing will turn out as we imagined.”

  Everyone drew a breath as they shared looks. What could they do but nod? At that moment, Razzmorten came upon Edward and Lily, flinging stones out over the water of the lake. “Say!” he said. “I've been needing to speak with you.”

  “About?” said Edward.

  “An old man's last wish.”

  “Well pardon my impertinence sir,” said Edward, looking most sincere, “but you seem ever so much like someone on his feet instead of his deathbed.”

  “Well!” said Razzmorten with a laugh. “It's always a pleasure for a fellow to look as well as he feels.”

  “I'm afraid that I'm still lost.”

  Razzmorten picked up a small stone from the edge of the water. “I'm talking about your grandfather King Theran,” he said, giving it a sharp fling.

  “Five splashes,” said Lily.

  Razzmorten paused to peer at her from under his hoary brows. “Theran wanted you to be the next king of Bratin Brute,” he said, shifting his squint to Edward as he picked up another rock. “Now I know that you and Lily are planning a quiet life in the Black Desert, but royalty are unavoidably heir to certain responsibilities to others.”

  “Well I suppose I was forgetting,” said Edward, “what with Ru Talorg's announcement and our having just been wed...”

  “And with the fact that you're in line for the throne of Loxmere,” said Razzmorten quickly. “And I'd allow that King James will have a word with you in that regard before long.”

  “What about Abaddon?” said Edward. “Shouldn’t he be the next king of Loxmere?”

  “You never know,” said Razzmorten, flinging another stone. “He is indeed the other possibility...”

  “My!” cried Lily. “Six splashes.”

  Razzmorten stuck out his tongue and quickly turned her way with a wink. “The problem is that there's not one other soul for Bratin Brute,” he said. “You know very well that Spitemorta's steward can't expect much more than tar and feathers. So if you don't take the crown, Goll or Niarg will likely add Bratin Brute. And though either one would be good for the country, it would be a shame, since your mother would have been proud to see you on the throne of her home. And it looks as though you're in the exceedingly rare position of being able to choose.”

  Edward dropped his gaze to his feet, then looked at Lily, who took his hand with a squeeze and nodded. “And what do you three eavesdroppers have to say?” he said, turning to the dragons who had quietly joined them. “You're not just out here to eat the frogs, a-creeping up on us like that.”

 
Laora swallowed her half of a bullfrog and looked at Eflamm and Avel.

  “Wherever you go, we go,” she said.

  “Ha!” thought Razzmorten. “Good tidings for Rose and Fuzz.”

  And just as he was thinking this, Abaddon appeared with Ariel and Lance at the end of the board where James was sitting with Mary. “Lance said that you were anxious to speak with us,” he said as he seated Ariel.

  “There's not a lot of time, since we'll be returning to Goll almost at once,” said James. “In fact, that's part of the very problem. We can't possibly divide our time between two thrones. And since we've long referred to you as Prince of Loxmere...”

  “You're wanting Ariel and me to rule there instead of you,” said Abaddon as Ariel found his eyes and nodded.

  “I am indeed,” said James.

  “I will do it,” said Abby, “so long as my condition is met.”

  “Which would be?”

  “That Lance becomes my steward. I'm going to need help. I've been a prince all my life, but I've scarcely the experience to rule the row of boots and slippers under my wardrobe.”

  “Well?” said James, turning to Lance.

  Lance stopped cutting on the wheel of cheese which Veyfnaryr had happily rolled to him, thumping down the board. “My word,” he said, not quite certain he was hearing right. “First steward for Abby in Loxmere instead of for you in Goll?”

  “Yea,” said James, “so long as you pay us regular visits.”

  “I will do that.”

  “Then it's settled,” said James, raising his buttox horn of mead. “And I urge that we have your coronation on Midsummer's Day.”