The Adventures of Theophilus Thistle

by David Partelow

  Ockwell was the first to recover as he growled at his enemy. The imp rushed Theophilus, eager for revenge. Theophilus tossed a cluster of thorns into Ockwell’s right leg as he stepped out of the imp’s path. The sleeping mixture they were laced with worked quite quickly of its victim. Ockwell yelped and fell on his face as Theophilus fired Digus again at Cutley. The blast hit the rising imp on his backside and hurtled him several feet through the air as he whimpered in pain.

  As the remaining imps recovered, Theophilus put Digus away as he drew his little blades. “What say you, gents? Shall we conclude this little skirmish the fun way?” he asked cheerfully.

  The remaining imps offered their best war cries in response. They charged forward as Theophilus did the same. Leaping into the mix, Theophilus sliced and stabbed with his blades, using the imps’ own clumsiness against them as he avoided their strikes and bites. In the scuffle, the imps in turn aided the little weed as their own attacks hit one another. Soon the remaining Dark Claws grew weary of the fight when their assaults bore no fruit. “We need more imps!” one of them whined.

  “Then another imp you shall have!”

  The fight stopped briefly as all combatants looked toward the jolly voice. Soon the imps frowned as Theophilus grinned. An enthusiastic imp garbed in a blue robe and wearing a leather satchel held out his hands to reveal enchanted orbs resting within them. His gentle grin lit up his yellow eyes as he waved with both hands. At the recognition of their former brethren, the Dark Claws growled in frustration, for this imp’s arrival tipped the odds further in the little weed’s favor.

  Theophilus nodded to his friend. “Care to join in the fun, Elor? I’ve saved you a few lackeys,” he offered.

  Elor skipped merrily closer as he replied. “Why, Sir Theophilus, I thought you would never ask.”

  Elor then tossed a black orb upon the Dark Claws, shrouding them in noxious smoke. As one emerged coughing and covering his mouth, Elor hurled the other orb, encasing the imp in thick, green goo that held him in place. With another of their own caught and the strength of numbers lost, the remaining imps fled. Elor and Theophilus watched them run as they looked about at the felled imps.

  “Well, this has been quite a fun morning already,” said Theophilus as he did a head count of the Dark Claws. “I think this is just about the last of them,” he added.

  Elor beamed at this information, confirming Theophilus’s calculation. “It truly is, Patch! We’ve finally done it,” he said before looking at the fleeing imps. “Shall we give chase?”

  Theophilus laughed and shook his head. “Nah. It’s not like they’re going to get far. Let us simply enjoy the moment,” he said.

  “I like the thought of that,” said Elor.

  The last of the imps showed their true colors as they hit open range and fled, not caring about destination. More flowers gave notice as some of the guards gave chase. The imps cared not, still covering their eyes and coughing as they pushed forward for all the were worth. As the imps started hopping over bits of rock, they finally looked back to see if they were being chased.

  In that brief distraction, a large cropping of rock spat forth from the ground before them. The last two imps ran fully into that rock, coming to a painful and immediate stop. With what was left of their conscious thought, the two imps looked at one another in dazed confusion before falling on their backs and enjoying their break from wakefulness. At this, Theophilus and Elor giggled.

  “You were right,” said Elor amidst his chuckling. “That was quite a moment.”

  “Told you,” said Theophilus with a wink.

  With the last of the imps subdued, Alethia’s guards rushed to the scene and began binding the attackers. As they did so, the largest of the rocks slowly transformed to an aged stone troll garbed in a fading blue robe. Using her magic to bind the imps she felled with stone, she offered a slow, proud smile to her adopted son Elor and friend Theophilus.

  Theophilus gave the stone troll thumbs up for her efforts. “Well done, Marin,” he said.

  Marin slowly raised a hand to wave. “I think that is sufficient excitement for one day,” she offered as she made her way to join the others.

  The three friends watched as the imps were fully subdued and prepped for travel. Bound fully by the vines of Niburu, there would be no escape for the Dark Claws until the flowers chose to release them. As they observed, all three friends felt a tremendous weight lifted from their shoulders. For weeks they had chased down bandits, most of them consisting of the Dark Claw imps. With the apprehension of Midsyr and the remainder of his clan, they could let their guards down some. Alethia was safe again, and with that a welcome and much deserved rest for its defenders.

  “I can’t believe it,” said Theophilus still musing over their situation. “We’ve got them all. I was starting to think this day was stubborn to find us.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Marin with a soft, soothing tone. “Such a pace is not forgiving to old bones.”

  Elor laughed. “Don’t try to fool us, mother. You know you can be faster than Patch and I combined when you wish to,” he said.

  Marin sighed at this. “Not without paying for it, my child, I assure you,” she added with a grin.

  Theophilus scoured the area one last time, making certain there were no more imps. He still found it difficult to relinquish his guard and accept victory. Finally, he put his little blades away as he patted the wand resting on his back. “You didn’t do half bad back there, Digus. I think you and I finally have come to an understanding,” he said.

  The wand replied within the weed’s mind, completely unamused. You make it sound as if my safety and well-being have not been put to threat on more than one occasion.

  Patch smiled over his shoulder. “Now you are getting it. Didn’t I tell you this beat roasting acorns over a fire?”

  Only because you would use me as the stick, replied Digus.

  “That’s the spirit,” answered Patch before he focused back to his friends. “Well if I am not mistaken, we have earned ourselves a bit of time made for enjoyment,” he said.

  Marin nodded. “So it seems.”

  Elor jumped in good cheer. “That is a choir of joy to my ears,” he said as he looked at his adoptive mother. “Can we return to the Grand Market for a spell? I would greatly like to go back.”

  Marin nodded softly. “Of course. How could I say no to that face?”

  Theophilus watched his two friends then, happy they had one another. “Well you two have fun. I myself want to stay here in Alethia for a bit,” he said.

  Elor snorted. “We have no doubt of that, Theophilus,” he said wryly.

  “And what by the Dream are you getting on about, young imp?” challenged the little weed.

  “You know full well what he means,” said Marin as she motioned for Alethia. “You have fought the good fight for some span now. It is time you return and see her. Promise or not, you have earned that.”

  Theophilus turned to look on the flower town and instantly longing filled him. It had been long days since he had seen Calla, the pink lotus that held on to his heart. The thought of seeing her again filled him with tremendous joy and yet, also put his stomach in knots. Did she miss him? Would she be as happy to see him as he was of her? There was only one way to find out and the notion put dancing fairies in his stomach.

  Elor picked up on the little weed’s deep feelings quickly. “See? Look at you, my friend. I think if we left you here to dwell you would surely wilt those thistles on your head,” he said teasingly.

  Theophilus shook his head at the notion. “I have a feeling you may well be right,” he offered before holding his hands out to them both. “My friends, I cannot thank you enough for all of your help on this matter. I couldn’t ask for better friendships, or more steadfast support in such a time. And I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”

  Elor knelt, still grinning at the little weed. “It was our pleasure, of course. And believe me, while it may no
t have been pretty on your own, knowing you and your stubborn commitment, you would have somehow surely found away, though I am relieved we were here just the same,” said the imp.

  Theophilus extended his hand to Elor. The imp let him shake one of his fingers before he picked up the little weed and hugged him, and Theophilus let him gladly. When Elor set him back down, the little weed gave Marin a deep bow as the stone troll nodded to him. “What say you? Shall we meet again in three days’ time?” he asked.

  “Meet us at the market,” blurted Elor, hardly able to conceal his excitement. “There are vendors I want to see with you.”

  “It is my hope that you will join us there for a visit. Maybe you can bring Calla with you,” said Marin. “For if you decline, you will surely disappoint Elor greatly,” she added.

  “Very well then,” said Theophilus, chuckling again. “The market it is. I will see you both again in three days.”

  “Hooray!” Elor cheered.

  “Take care of yourself until then, Theophilus. And give our best to Calla. We will see you again soon,” said Marin.

  “But not soon enough I am sure,” added Elor.

  Theophilus gave them a wave as they departed. “Farewell, friends! Till next we meet, which shall be sooner than later!”

  “Goodbye, Patch!” said Elor.

  Theophilus watched his friends go for a time, saddened by their departure but grateful to hold such meaningful friendships in his life. For many a season, the company he had kept as Thorn-Ren in the weed home of Bunda-Bas was cold at best. The last few weeks of warmth and comradery had all but changed the little weed more so for the better. He did not know what fates had brought such wonderful souls into his life, but he was thankful for it every day.

  “Goodbye, friends,” whispered Theophilus as he reluctantly turned to face Alethia. “And now, the hard part.”

  With his anticipation rising and his stomach knotting further, Theophilus made a slow, nervous trek to the kingdom of Alethia to reunite with Calla.

  .

  Chapter Two

  A Ranger’s Stance

  In many circles, the Aelyn Keep was no more than a myth told around campfires and at bedtime. Despite the lack of evidence, stories of its whereabouts persisted, with some claiming to have been near its secrets within an enchanted forest before they were magically guided elsewhere or outright removed. And while many disregarded such tales, the truth of the keep’s strength and popularity was in fact the trappings of secrecy.

  For Aelyn Keep was the home of the Saelen Kingdom’s most renown defenders, champions of the light and an example of justice for all: The Rangers.

  As for the keep itself, very few ever laid eyes upon it, which merely added to its mystery. Only those chosen as worthy of the Ranger crest were granted continuous access with the remainder being those of some importance, the injured, or Aelyn’s prisoners before sentencing and transport. Secrecy was in fact the most vital element in protecting the bastion of justice that was the Ranger’s headquarters. To everyone else in Lunaria, the keep remained a hot topic of debate and endless speculation.

  Riding a swift, majestic horse of pristine white, Captain Corym Shael traversed through the Moon Forest and toward Aelyn Keep. The elf made all haste to his home as grimness and determination hardened his handsome features. Even securely tied back, his golden hair soared gracefully behind him. The jubilance that often rested in his earnest eyes was tucked away, replaced by duty and purpose. For while Captain Shael was returning home, he was still preparing for a fight.

  Reaching the heart of the forest and the outskirts of the stronghold, Captain Shael uttered the magic words that would allow him entrance. The spell cast upon the Ranger’s domain was powerful and would repel those who sought entrance or lash out at those who persisted. He passed through the veil easily and in doing so the image of endless forest before him turned into an active training ground and fortified keep.

  Slowing his steed. Captain Shael directed his mount toward the nearby stable. Dismounting, his horse was taken as the stable hand bid Corym welcome. The captain nodded to him, his silence indicating the severity of his mood. Patting his horse’s side, the elf Ranger made his way to Aelyn Keep.

  As Captain Shael walked, he allowed the wilderness training grounds to distract him. Veteran Rangers drilled new recruits on all matters of warfare. Captain Shael noticed a particularly skilled young woman at the range, exhibiting her talents with the bow. He made note of her for later, for he still needed replacements for his depleted unit.

  As the captain walked, passing elves paused, offering their respect or reverence. Even among Rangers, Captain Shael was nigh legendary. Though his methods were often questioned, the results he produced in the pursuit of justice were not to be denied. The look upon his face and the setting of his jaw staved off anything more than cursory greetings and well wishes.

  With swift strides, the captain was upon the keep in no time. Seeing it now, even after years he wished to not recount, still stilled his breath a quick spell. Forged within and merged with four great Oaklar trees, Aelyn keep was a rugged, yet graceful sight to behold. Fortified walls of ivory meshed with green accents and the hulking trees that supported them. The keep rose like a spire, offering balconies and lookout towers. There was enough supplies and space inside to support the Rangers for months on end should the need ever arise.

  Captain Shael walked toward the elegant double doors of the keep and was greeted by the guards flanking it. Without question they allowed his entrance and the captain passed them swiftly. Inside, Captain Shael ignored the graceful warmth and beauty that welcomed him, for his purpose was still fresh in his mind. He knew the council was waiting and he needed to be as prepared for them as they were of him.

  As Captain Shael neared the audience chamber, an elf stepped before him, blocking his path. “Captain Shael,” he started, looking over the captain’s elegant Ranger attire indifferently. “The council is expecting you, but in good time. You are not the only Ranger to require attention today,” he offered with complete nonchalance.

  Captain Shael placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder and moved him aside. “Veran, if you were as skilled at fighting as you were with words, you could have perhaps been the best in all of us. Stand aside,” he said curtly as he made his way through. He glanced back over his shoulder icily to quell any further comment from Veran.

  The captain pushed the door open abruptly, which in turn quite audibly announced his presence. The room fell silent and the Ranger addressing the council looked impatiently upon Shael. Yet the look on the captain’s face eliminated that glare soon enough and the Ranger dismissed himself. Thus, free of distraction, Captain Shael could harness his entire focus upon the Council of Five.

  Aelyn’s audience chamber was simple in its refinement, with most of its splendor resting on the carved, ornate table that sat the Rangers’ most prominent and powerful members. The Council of Five, created so that no Ranger would have absolute power and all disagreements could be resolved, sat silently as Captain Shael ventured toward them. Five pairs of eyes watched him with varying degrees of emotion ranging from patience to frustration. Shael steeled himself as he stood rigidly before them.

  The eldest Ranger, sitting in the center of the group, leaned forward as he evaluated the man before him. Adorned with hair of pure, glistening white, his indifferent blue eyes saw everything and perhaps more. “Captain Shael,” he started, veiling much of his annoyance. “It appears that we will see you now.”

  Captain Shael nodded curtly. “Grand Marshal Malor Shen, it has been some time,” he said without his usual candor. “Though obviously from the look in your eyes not long enough.”

  Marshal Shen stood for a moment, revealing in his movements that while ancient, he was still as swift as ever. “I would advise you again, as I have so many times in the past, to careful your words in this honorable keep. If you cannot respect it, then respect the council,” he said.

  Captain Shael was unmoved.
“With all due respect, Marshal Shen, my anger is not a reflection of my thoughts on the council, but rather the frustration and urgency I have been left to bear,” he replied.

  To the left of Shen, Marshal Ellawyn Fendar spoke. An elf short for her kind, she compensated for it with savage strength when tested. Currently her piercing green eyes evaluated Captain Shael under her night black hair. “Yes, the ambush and the loss of your men and the prisoner Norrex were quite unfortunate,” she said.

  “Almost as unfortunate as the response has been to this horrid tragedy,” said Shael.

  To the right of Marshal Shen, the newest of the council, Savar Andin leaned forward as he addressed Shael. He kept his golden hair short and looked ready to quarrel with the captain. “What are you getting at, Captain Shael?” he demanded. “We have given you free reign to investigate further into this dire situation. But such leniency can only go so far. You had Norrex and he is now gone and at cost to us all. But as Rangers we must move forward and fulfil our duties to Saelen and to High King Landin,” he said.

  Captain Shael pressed on. “And that is exactly my case. This night time ambush reveals more than just a wanted fugitive. It has revealed corruption afoot as well as a rising threat to the entire kingdom. Norrex is vile for certain, but he is but a pawn in a greater scheme. We must uncover him quickly and deal with him and his minions decisively, for if left unchecked we will face deeper peril in the future,” he said.

  To the right of Marshal Andin, Valena Swiftnight thought on the captain’s words. Swiftnight was perhaps the greatest archer the Rangers had ever produced. She wore her crimson hair freely down her shoulders, her piercing gaze held some sympathy for Shael. “The circumstances were quite unfortunate, Captain Shael. You were not the only one who lost comrades on that dark night,” she said before her features softened. “We must honor them by pressing forward and doing what must be done, so that their loss would not be in vain.”