The Adventures of Theophilus Thistle

by David Partelow

  Theophilus nodded to him. “Then I shall be on my way, gnome. And I will expect more cordial behavior from you in the future, should our paths ever cross again,” he said before hopping down from the table. Theophilus heard the gnome muttering his hopes to never see another weed again for the rest of his days as he went about selling his sundries once more.

  Theophilus walked quickly from the mystic aisle, his intentions quite clear. The gait of his little steps revealed he was ready for battle. For a spell, Elor and Marin walked behind him silently, letting the little weed have his silence and thoughts. Quickly, they were again out of the Grand Market and heading to where Renard was waiting patiently, catching a nap in the shade.

  At last, Marin could endure the silence no longer. “Theophilus, wait,” she insisted.

  The little weed replied without turning or slowing his steps. “My way is clear now, Marin. I must get to that clearing and save Calla. I can waste no more time after our misdirection,” he said.

  Marin stopped her pursuit as she called out again. “Theophilus, we cannot go with you!” There was pain in her words as she spoke them.

  Theophilus stopped then, slowly turning to look at Marin and Elor. The stone troll looked upon him with pained eyes as Elor looked between them both, confused. Theophilus walked closer to Marin, regarding her and absorbing her words. His first reaction was to demand an explanation, but the pain in her voice gave him pause.

  Theophilus nodded, placing his hands quietly upon his hips as he mulled over her words. “It’s okay, Marin, I understand. It is dangerous. I couldn’t ask for you and Elor for any more assistance than you have already given,” he said.

  Marin shook her head. “No, you do not understand, Theophilus. We want to go. We would see this done with you until the end. But we cannot go where you must. Doing so would put your mission in even greater peril,” she said.

  “Why so?” Elor asked, still confused.

  Marin leveled her eyes upon him sadly. “For that way is back into the realm of Seark,” she said softly.

  Elor lowered his head, defeated. “Oh,” he breathed.

  By the look on the weed’s face, he was clearly confused by Marin’s words. “Seark? Do you mean the son of Ornock, the land Guardian? What does he have to do with this?” he asked.

  Marin sighed. “Because like you, young one, we once made a choice and now must endure the consequences. To help one in need, we defied Seark. Unlike his father, that unicorn is vengeful and unforgiving. Should he sense our presence upon his domain, his retribution would be swift and without remorse. Likely, if you or Calla survived you would become one of his treasures if he didn’t crush you outright for no more reason than to spite us,” she said.

  Theophilus looked between his two new friends and the anguish on their faces broke his heart. “I am so sorry. I had no idea you had incurred the wrath of such a powerful foe. Now it is settled and there is no way I could ask you to go such a route. You must remain free and together, and I would not rest easy if I knew your lives were forfeit because of me,” said the weed.

  “I am sorry, Theophilus,” whispered Marin.

  “As am I,” added Elor with tears welling in his eyes.

  Theophilus shook his head at this. “Friends, there is no need for such sadness. You have already helped me greatly in my quest and for that I am indebted to you,” he said before bowing to them both. “Know that regardless of the outcome, you have and shall always hold a friend in me,” he added.

  Elor came closer to the little weed, lowering himself to his knees. “I’m sorry you must go where we cannot follow,” he said, placing a gentle hand on the little weed’s shoulder.

  Theophilus placed a hand on the top of the imp’s hand. “I will simply be grateful in knowing that it was by your help that I have made it this far,” said the weed, smiling.

  “We are not through in helping you just yet,” said Marin as she rummaged inside of her robes. “Please come here, Theophilus, there is something I must give you for your travels.”

  The little weed held up his hands. “Marin, I meant what I said. You and Elor have helped me so much already,” he replied.

  She shook her head with slowly, deliberately as she continued her search. “I would know no peace if I didn’t know I tried to help you in every way I could,” she said before her eyes lit up. “Ah, here it is.”

  Thus claimed, Marin pulled from her robes that which she sought. Much to his surprise, it was simply an aged piece of dark wood. The little weed surmised that it might be some sort of wand, but for one of his stature it was more of a staff or walking stick. Marin looked upon the piece of wood for long moments before her focus shifted back to the little weed.

  “Theophilus, come here please and lend me one of your daggers,” she said as she knelt.

  Theophilus approached as he drew one of his blades and offered the little weapon to Marin. “Of course, Marin. What are you doing, if I may ask,” he inquired.

  Marin took the little blade gently between her fingers as she looked between it and the stick. “I am binding this wand to you, Theophilus. “I came across it in my travels ages ago, though I have never desired to use it. I do not know its full capabilities, save for the fact that it is not of dark intent. Perhaps it will be of use to you in your journeys,” she said before pointing to the weed. “Please hold out your hand,” she asked.

  Theophilus did as he was asked and without question. Inching closer, Marin took the little dagger and poked the little weed’s hand. Theophilus grunted but did not budge as dark green blood trickled from the wound. Quickly, Marin placed the wand in his hand before giving his dagger back. Theophilus felt a swirl of energy rush over him before all was normal again.

  Marin nodded, satisfied. “This wand is yours now, Theophilus. You are its master, and no one may use it but you. I hope that it serves you well and helps you to bring Calla home safely,” she said.

  Theophilus looked upon the wand intently before lowering one end of it to rest on the ground like a walking staff. “Thank you, Marin. Thank you both. I hope that when all of this is over I will see you again,” he said.

  “We will do what we can from here,” said Elor, nodding. “I think this business goes deeper than just my former brethren. We will find out what we can and keep our eyes out for you, Theophilus,” he said.

  Theophilus nodded gratefully to these words before the three of them made their way to Renard, who was now looking upon them with his tail wagging. The little weed secured his things before hopping onto Renard’s back. He then offered his hand to both of his new friends, shaking in earnest. The three of them exchanged a silent moment as Elor petted Renard one last time.

  “May good fortune join you on your journey, Theophilus Thistle,” said Elor.

  “And may fate join us again one day,” said Theophilus as nodded to the imp and stone troll. “Good bye, my friends,” he added painfully before urging Renard forward.

  Marin and Elor watched the little weed ride off swiftly, facing the dangers before him bravely. As Elor’s shoulders sank, Marin placed an arm around him for comfort. Neither liked the prospect of sending their new friend off alone. Having no choice in the matter only made the wound more severe.

  “Do you think we will ever see him again, Marin?” Elor asked, looking up at her hopeful eyes.

  Marin held him tighter still. “There is, even in the darkest of days, always a glimmer of light. We shall hold to that for now and do what we can from here,” she said as they made their way to the market once more. Something in Marin’s response gave Elor a sudden chill in his bones.

  Chapter Six

  a Sorceror’s Rage

  Despite his haste upon Renard’s back, Theophilus could not outrun the coming of the night. Three leagues from his destination, the Firestar had sunk below the horizon fully as nightfall draped the landscape and all was soothed by lunar light. The Great Road offered a clear journey, yet this did little to help the troubled mind of the adventuring weed. I
n his heart he knew that every waning second was precious.

  As they neared where Harlim had bid him, Theophilus brought Renard’s pace to a slow trot. The young fox accepted the command gratefully, still panting heavily at the exertion. The little weed felt guilty for the demand he had placed on Renard, but knew that the fox’s time of rest was at hand and his own time for exertion was near. Checking his weapons, Theophilus prepared his mind for the struggle ahead.

  Keeping his eyes moving and alert, Theophilus patted the fox’s side. “Easy, friend. We are definitely close to our destination,” he said. Renard whined through his panting, as if he too felt the stirrings of unsettling evil.

  Holding one hand over the hilt of a dagger, Theophilus remained vigilant. He had no way of knowing if Norrex was expecting him, or if the dark sorcerer had underlings to further his cause. And so Theophilus remained cautious, not prepared to lose his fight before it had even started. Renard kept up his cautious pace as the little weed looked for Norrex’s indicator.

  “There!” Theophilus whispered anxiously as he pointed. On the side of the road rested a gnarled trunk. Guiding Renard to it, Theophilus hopped off his friend and ran his little hands over the faded wood. Even touching the dead tree filled Theophilus with uneasiness, yet it told him that he was in the right place. He continued searching with his hands until he felt distinctive claw markings.

  Nodding to himself, Theophilus guided Renard off the road as he hunted for the hidden trail behind the trunk. Harlim’s words had been true thankfully and it did not take long to find. The small trail led upward into the trees and would have been easily overlooked had Theophilus not been searching for it specifically. Off the road and out of sight, Theophilus took off his pack and placed it next to Renard as he placed his wand-staff in hand.

  He petted Renard many times before speaking. “You stay here, Renard. You’re a good boy and I need you to remain safe. If I am not back soon I expect you to be free from here and enjoy your life, my friend,” he said. Renard whined as he nudged the little weed. Theophilus hugged his snout. “It’s okay. And I mean it. Stay here.” After some resistance, Renard laid down restlessly but never took his eyes off Theophilus.

  Satisfied, Theophilus nodded to his friend a final time before he turned and made his way up the secret path. Behind him, Renard gently whined, but stayed as instructed. Soon the fennec fox was silent as he watched Theophilus go. Holding the wand like a staff, the little weed ventured forth like a whisper. When Theophilus was out of sight, Renard almost went after him. Yet he stayed as he was told, keeping watch over the little weed’s pack instead.

  The trek uphill increased in intensity and was made more difficult by the need for stealth. Theophilus steadied himself with each step, using the wand to support his climb. The weed listened for sounds of footfalls or odors that might give him indication he was close, yet he heard received neither. Continuing upward, he held his makeshift staff, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

  To be utilized in such a way, I feel tarnished completely said a voice, crisp, proper, and annoyed.

  Theophilus held the wand up, aiming it as he searched about. “Who was that,” he whispered.

  It is I, the victim in your hands, the one destined for greater things than a mere walking stick, said the voice again.

  Theophilus continued searching about as he heard a gentle chuckle. It was then that he realized his approach was still undetected. He was being addressed by the wand in his hands. Lowering his fighting stance, he drew the wand closer as he regarded it curiously.

  At last, he sees the light. I am relieved that I am not bound to a total fool, said the voice.

  Theophilus shook his head as he whispered. “Did Marin gift me a blessing or a curse?”

  Perhaps both, replied the voice. Yet there is no need for you to waste breath. I am bound to you, so we may speak to one another through your mind.

  I have yet to find relief in that knowledge, replied Theophilus to the wand.

  Still your cares. I do believe you have a more harrowing agenda to face than matching wits with me, the wand said.

  Theophilus sighed. So, you are sentient. And I assume you have a name you desire over me calling you “Pompous Twig,” he thought to the wand.

  Theophilus could feel the wand’s annoyance before his reply. We are off to a smashing start, muttered the wand. I am Digus, given life at the hands of the wizard Ord. Passed through the ages by names known as legend in lore. An instrument of good and evil for-

  Theophilus cut him off. I think that the grandiose monologue can wait for now. Digus the wand shall suffice. If you recall, we still have a fight ahead of us.

  Perhaps our first and our last, replied Digus, sounding almost hopeful at the prospect.

  With optimism like that, I may just have to take you with me to the Dream, countered Theophilus. But for now, let us spare one another of this quarrel and prepare for the true fight at hand.

  Very well, said Digus. As you were.

  Theophilus waited patiently in the dark, satisfied when no further remarks filled his mind. He again could focus on his task and surroundings. Continuing his press forward, the little weed treaded softly in his search for Calla and her captor. Despite this, he couldn’t help himself when he bumped the end of the wand into a passing tree. Feeling a ripple of annoyance emanate from the wand gave Theophilus a reason to smile, if even just for a moment.

  Theophilus completed his venture up the hill. As he did, the woods around him slowly opened, offering less in terms of trees and hiding places. He moved soft as a shadow, still searching about and hoping he was not too late. In the darkness, his hope started to wane, yet he pressed onward defiantly. The night around him had grown eerily still and this was enough to bolster him as a sign that he was close.

  Soon, Theophilus could hear chanting sounds. A dark voice resonated with haunting inflection, sending a shiver though the weed. A positively evil smell invaded through his nostrils, checkered with hints of brimstone, ginger root, and orc blood or sweat. His senses were overwhelmed and repulsed, yet the fumes were a beacon. Theophilus rushed forward and soon he found his destination.

  Finding cover behind a rock, Theophilus drew near to a scene ripe with evil. There before him a stoked fire held a large, boiling cauldron. The pantheryn known as Norrex worked feverishly beside it, drawing ingredients from a blood-stained altar and casting them into the brewing concoction. Flames and ravenous smoke spat skyward as he did, causing Theophilus to wince. The area surrounding the cauldron looked withered and pained, the foliage slowly dying from the evil wrought upon the altar.

  As Theophilus assessed the scene, Norrex continued his work, stirring the cauldron with a large stick with feverish glee. Adding the last of the ingredients, he smelled the foul fumes with relish. Reaching into his thick robes, the pantheryn procured a pouch before untying it. As Norrex poured the contents upon the altar, Theophilus gasped, for it was Calla. The gentle flower lay with her eyes closed and unmoving. Norrex took her in his hands, raising her over his head as he turned again to the bubbling cauldron.

  Chuckling devilishly, Norrex spoke, the silk of his voice replaced with pure malice. “Swirling darkness, heed my call! May your hand soon cover all! Take this offering from the light, bestow on me now, Moreg’s might!” He chanted before preparing to throw Calla into the cauldron.

  “Stop!” Theophilus cried out defiantly as he rushed toward Norrex and Calla.

  Ceasing his ritual, Norrex turned. There he saw Theophilus approaching him, his wand-staff at the ready. At the sight of him, Norrex laughed before placing Calla back onto the altar. Clasping his hands before him, Norrex looked upon the defiant little weed, humor filling his predatory eyes.

  “I must say, little weed, you are quite persistent. I’d hoped the imps would have taken care of you and brought me your remains, but no matter,” said Norrex, looking on the little weed as if he were deciding what potion to put him in.

  Theophilus narrowed his eyes. �
�I have come to bring Calla home. Your deceit and treachery end now, Norrex. Darkness and evil will no longer haunt this area,” he challenged.

  Norrex stared with his wide emerald eyes as he processed the little weed’s words. Suddenly, his fanged mouth opened as he bellowed a deep and rich laughter. Soon he gathered himself as his gold fur ruffled. Pointing a clawed finger at Theophilus he responded to the little weed’s challenge. “You’re amusing for sure, but the fun must end. You have no idea what you have stumbled upon and how you are but a speck of sand in the eyes of my true master. No one, not even one guided by his heart will keep me from the true power near my grasp. Begone now, weed. Spare yourself the pain of failure and death and do so while my mood is still pleasant,” he said.

  Theophilus shook his head. “I cannot. I will not,” he replied, readying his wand.

  At this, Norrex nodded. His features quickly darkened as his eyes fixed on Theophilus fully. Raising his hands, magical power began to fill them. “So be it, insignificant weed. You will share the fate of your friend then. Yet you will suffer first, for you have tried my patience for the first and last time,” he said before holding his hands before him.

  Before Theophilus could react, Norrex waved his hands casually at the ground. When he did, a circle of emanating flame stretched out in all directions, eating at the half-dead vegetation. Immediately all that touched the flame smoldered and fell. This approaching wave was massive to the likes of a weed. Theophilus instinctively jumped and flipped, eluding the approaching flames just barely. As he landed in a roll, his body felt the unnatural heat from the assault, He kept moving, blotting out the smoldering on his shoulder. In doing so he dropped his wand by accident and drew his blades.

  Norrex then conjured balls of fire in his hands, hurling them at Theophilus. The little weed jumped out of the way of them both, still feeling the unrelenting heat as the force of the blasts sent him hurtling. Landing painfully on his back, Theophilus surged to his feet, hurling thorns, unable to do anything but take defensive measures against the evil sorcerer. From the look on the pantheryn’s face, Norrex was clearly enjoying the skirmish.