Fenzig's Fortune_A Gnome's Tale

by Jean Rabe

  Almost as one, they started slowly advancing, their acidic saliva dropping on the ground and making sickening hissing sounds as the grass died beneath them.

  The gnome trembled in fear, and Mistake reared back and bolted.

  “No!” Fenzig called after the pony, but it fled in panic, veering to the left of the group of five beasts. They turned and sprinted after it, snarling and snapping, their tails lashing out to brush against the pony’s rear legs. “Leave Mistake alone!”

  Fenzig bravely chased after them, his small feet stumbling over the uneven ground. He waved the glowing sword and hollered, praying the beasts would scatter and not harm the pony. But in his concern for Mistake, he’d forgotten about the three behind him.

  They charged the running gnome, and the largest leapt through the air and struck him squarely on the back, sending him flying to meet the forest floor. Its twin tails whipped at his neck, and the leaf-like appendages burned like coals where they struck Fenzig’s exposed flesh. Their tiny, thornlike teeth dug in.

  The wind rushed from his lungs, and his face and chest hit hard against the damp earth. The glowing short sword flew from his fingers, and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

  Fight it! Fenzig’s mind screamed. If I drift off, I’m a dead gnome. They’ll eat me for a late-night snack. And if I die, what about Mistake? And if Mistake dies, what about me?

  He shook his head and tried to get up, but he discovered a heavy weight on his back. Craning his neck as far around as it would go, he spied the large beast, its front legs planted squarely on him. The creature’s eyes glowed malevolently, and in that instant they looked like the eyes of a man, not of a cat creature. Indeed, for a heartbeat he saw the visage of a man. He shivered, and it snarled, and the gnome watched in fear and disgust as gobs of saliva fell on his borrowed clothes and sizzled and popped as they started to eat through the cloth. Suddenly, his skin felt like it was on fire.

  Fenzig whipped his head the other way and spotted his short sword a little more than two yards in front of him, resting in a bed of ferns well out of his reach. One of the other catlike beasts was sniffing it and pawing at the pommel. Deciding the sword couldn’t be eaten, it turned its attention to Fenzig and grunted.

  Where’s the third? Fenzig wondered.

  His question was quickly answered when the creature in question padded by him and looked right into his face. Its maw was inches from his nose, and the smell of its strong, fetid breath made the gnome gag. The craven cat sniffed him, then opened its mouth and snapped at him. The gnome immediately pulled his head in toward his shoulders like a turtle, causing the animal to barely miss sinking its teeth into his cheek. In its eyes he’d saw yet another human visage. Were these beasts born of sorcery? Were they witches or changelings?

  “I’ll not die to the likes of you!” Fenzig screamed as he summoned all his strength and thrust up with his arms, as if he were doing pushups. He dislodged the creature on his back and surged forward in a fast crawl, hitting the one in front of him with his shoulder. Caught by surprise, it backed up, and Fenzig capitalized on the moment by jumping to his feet and rushing toward his sword.

  The cat near the weapon stood its ground and flicked its snapping tails menacingly, but Fenzig wasn’t about to be turned away. He kicked his right leg forward, intent on striking the catlike creature in the side and knocking it off balance. His aim was true, and his foot connected, but he didn’t have the strength to phase the beast. His teeth chattered as a wave of frigid cold raced up his foot and settled in his chest. Then he swallowed hard when it turned to face him.

  “Gods! What are you?” The gnome leapt to the beast’s side, narrowly avoiding a snapping tail. He kicked out again, aiming for a spot just behind the creature’s rump. His foot connected again, with ribs from the feel of it, and the catlike thing growled in anger and stepped back. Again, the blast of cold shot up his body from where he connected with the cat.

  He slammed his teeth together, trying to blot out the sensation, and Fenzig used the precious seconds he gained to dive on his sword. His fingers closed on the pommel, and he rolled into the ferns to distance himself from the closest beast. Then he sprang to his feet and backed up until he felt the trunk of a thick tree against him.

  At least they can’t get at my behind now, he thought. The three craven cats grouped together to form a line. Standing practically shoulder to shoulder, the motion of their intertwining tails difficult to follow, they snapped and snarled but kept their distance. The gnome was glad they were giving him pause right now. Maybe they’re worried because I struck one, Fenzig thought. Maybe I hurt it. Or maybe they’re keeping back because of the sword.

  They probably think I know how to use it, the gnome mused. Let them keep thinking that. Maybe they don’t like the light. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to figure a way out of this and find Mistake.

  For several minutes it seemed like a standoff. Every so often the craven cats would growl menacingly and take a cautious step forward, their center pair of feet pawing at the ground. Fenzig would yell, flourish the sword, and they would take a step back. But they wouldn’t run away, and they wouldn’t present him with an opportunity to leave the tree and head for the road.

  At last, the largest beast separated itself from the group and padded toward the gnome. The other two kept their distance but watched the gnome and their pack leader closely. The big creature started circling the tree, bringing the loop in closer and closer with each circuit, its twin tails flicking toward the gnome, their tiny mouths snapping. Fenzig warily kept his eyes on its questing tentacle-tails. The spots on his neck where the leafy appendages had hit him before still burned. The gnome shifted the grip on his sword. As the creature tightened its circle, he stepped forward and lashed out.

  Though his swing was unpracticed, Fenzig managed to slice through the air—and a tail in the process. The snakelike black thing fell to the ground and writhed, oozing an acidic ichor that hissed and burned the grass and sent an acrid stench into the air. The craven cat yowled in pain.

  The gnome expected the beast to jump back and lick its wound, but it took another tactic entirely. It darted in toward Fenzig, and the gnome was hard pressed to bring his weapon up in time to defend himself. The beast lunged at him again, and the gnome blindly struck out with the blade. He heard a faint hum in the air as the sword arced toward the beast, a hum that seemed to intensify when the magic blade sank into the beast’s underbelly.

  But the momentum of the creature carried it forward to impact with the gnome’s chest. Though dying, the beast snapped at Fenzig, spitting an acidlike substance that burned his skin. He felt the beast’s claws rake through his clothing and slash his left arm. The gnome grimaced and shoved the animal away, careful to keep hold of his sword.

  The other two craven cats growled loudly as they watched the death spasms of their leader. As they moved up to sniff the dying animal, Fenzig edged away from the tree. He crept as silently as he could toward where he believed the road was. He thought he might have gotten turned around a little, but when he checked the position of the stars, he was pleased he was heading in the right direction.

  Now to find my pony, Fenzig mused. And then I’ll ride hard and fast away from this place. I’ve got a lot of time to make up.

  He guessed he’d made it about way halfway to the road when he heard the two beasts come up behind him. The animals themselves were silent, but the sizzle of their saliva hitting the ground gave them away.

  “Don’t you ever quit?” he asked as he whirled to face them. He brandished his sword and shouted, hoping that would be enough to drive them off. He didn’t like the idea of having to kill another one. They didn’t move, and in a moment they were joined by their five panting and slavering friends.

  “Well, at least Mistake got away. Too fast for you, wasn’t he?” Then Fenzig looked at the beasts a little more closely and shuddered. The light of the sword was just bright enough to let the gnome see their heads. Their jaws were
dripping blood, and from one appendaged tail hung a clump of white hair.

  “Mistake,” he whispered. “You got my pony.” His heart sank. Not only had he just lost his mode of transportation to K’Nosha and the duke’s estate—dooming himself because he’d never make the king’s deadline, he’d just lost a friend.

  Fenzig considered charging the pack, eking out retribution for his pony’s death–since he was no doubt going to die to the wizard’s homing spell. Why not end it all now?

  But then . . . he knew that there were always possibilities, that a way to K’Nosha might somehow still present itself. Swallowing his pride and any desire for a quick death he might have entertained, the gnome wheeled on the balls of his feet and dashed in the direction of the road. The yowling and growling behind him, coupled with the rhythmic thudding of their paws against the ground and the hissing of their acidic saliva, told him he had only seconds before they’d be on him.

  Crouching and springing, Fenzig leapt at a low-hanging branch, barely grabbing onto it with his free hand. A craven cat jumped at the gnome’s dangling bare feet, and Fenzig felt a burning-hot tentacle brush against his soles. Swinging like a monkey, the gnome pulled himself up to the branch and held on tight. Below him, in an uneven ring around the base of the trunk, were the horrid beasts.

  “Mistake wasn’t enough for you, huh? Still hungry? Eat magic steel!” he cried as he leaned forward and stabbed at one that was leaping up. The blade only nicked the beast, but the threat was apparently enough to keep it from jumping up again. The creature snarled and glared at him invidiously.

  “Yeah! You gawk at me all you want!” he sputtered. “With those eyes you could probably see me if I was at the top of this tree. See me. Waitaminute! My ring! I forgot all about it. I can use the ring to turn invisible and then sneak out of here.” Below him, the beasts sniffed the air and snarled practically in unison, and Fenzig quickly rethought his plan. “You’d smell me, though, even if you couldn’t see me. And even if I was invisible, I’d still move branches and ferns. It wouldn’t take a genius to find me. Wonder what god thought you up? One having a decidedly nasty day, I’d guess.” The pack paced around the tree and rumbled at the gnome, and Fenzig continued talking to himself as he climbed to a higher branch. “What am I going to do? Sit here until you leave?”

  In the end, that’s what the gnome settled on, sitting in the tree until morning. He knew he couldn’t defeat the craven cats. Morning wasn’t far off, he discovered, and when it arrived the woods came alive with the sounds of birds and insects and all manner of life. The beasts slunk away, whether because they didn’t like the daytime or because they’d gotten tired of waiting for the gnome to come down.

  When they were out of sight, Fenzig skittered down the trunk and assessed his situation. His spare clothes, including the farmer’s fine shirt, were deeper in the woods.

  And they’re going to stay there, he thought. No sense chancing a run-in with more craven cats—or worse. Mistake is dead, my dried meat is in the belly of an acid-drooling creature, and I’m certainly not going to waste what time I have left searching for my skin of raspberry juice.

  Fenzig crept toward the road and started shuffling toward K’Nosha.

  “Of course,” he grumbled to himself, “without my pony I won’t make it to Duke Rehmir’s on time anyway. Unless some miracle comes along.”

  He glanced at the back of his hand. The blue line snaked outward from the tip of the heart and passed his wrist by at least an inch.

  6

  On the Wrong Foot

  “What do I do now?” The gnome continued on the road to K’Nosha. The sun climbed higher in the sky, heading toward its lunchtime position. But Fenzig didn’t need the sun to tell him what time it was; his stomach was capable of that. He stopped and looked down at his complaining belly, then patted it. “You’re probably not going to get anything to eat today, or maybe the day after. So you might as well stop growling,” he lectured it. “You’ve got to realize that finding something to eat is the least of our worries right now. Food got me into this mess, after all. If I hadn’t wanted that apple pie so badly, Mistake and I would’ve never ended up in the woods. Mistake would still be alive. And I’d be much closer to K’Nosha, thank you.”

  He stared at the road in front of him. It connected K’Nosha to Burlengren, and to the gnome it seemed impossibly long. “I have no food. I have no transportation. No map, not that I needed it. But I still have this cursed homing spell—and I certainly don’t need that.” He looked at the back of his hand.He stomped his thick-soled heels into the dirt in frustration and scowled. The sun had warmed the road, and the dirt felt wonderful against the bottoms of his tired feet. But even that pleasant sensation couldn’t raise Fenzig’s falling spirits. Without Mistake, he wouldn’t be able to get to Duke Rehmir’s manor house, steal the emeralds, and make it back to King Erlgrane’s castle before the magical blue line reached his neck and killed him.

  I could go back to Burlengren and ask the wizard to stop his spell, Fenzig thought. Maybe he would do it if I asked him real nice. Then I could get another pony out of the king’s stables and try again.

  But Fenzig remembered the look on the wizard’s face when he was awakened during the failed robbery. And he remembered how pleased the wizard seemed over the gnome’s predicament and current mission. And he remembered that the king mentioned other thieves not making the assignment in the given time frame.

  No, the wizard isn’t about to stop his spell. In fact, I’ll bet he wants me to fail, just as the other thieves failed, Fenzig decided. He probably likes killing thieves with his homing spell. So going back to King Erlgrane’s without the gems wasn’t an option. But giving up and dying wasn’t exactly a palatable solution either.

  I’ve just got to think of something, he mused as he continued to walk and occasionally stomp. Perhaps I could sneak back to the farm, the one that had that delicious apple pie.

  Fenzig had visions of poking through the barn to see if the family might have any ponies or donkeys—something small enough for him to ride. But what if the farmer caught him? “I’ll kill you,” Fenzig remembered the farmer yelling. No, going to the farmer’s was not the best choice either.

  Besides, he thought, I don’t have that fancy shirt to give back as a peace offering. It’s probably in pieces now, lining the den of some little animal or lining the stomach of a craven cat.

  The gnome pursed his lips, scratched his head, then picked up his pace. He’d look for a different farm with a barn fairly close to the road. He’d quietly enter, select a mount, and release the other animals so the angry farmer would have to catch a horse before he could give chase. And by then the gnome would be long gone. Yes, that was a reasonable plan.

  Fenzig stayed toward the center of the road, where there seemed to be fewer rocks. Wagon ruts were worn to either side of him, and he could make out the tracks of lots of horses’ hooves. He tried to count the hoofprints to help keep his mind off his situation.

  He was on eight hundred and seventy-four when he spotted a farm in the distance and heard the pounding of hooves behind him. The gnome whirled and saw a pair of black and white horses bearing down on him, pulling a garish red boxlike wagon driven by a thin man in equally garish clothing. Fenzig waved frantically.

  “Stop!” the gnome yelled in as loud a voice as he could muster. Though the farm ahead fit into his plans, the wagon was closer. “A blackbird in the hand . . .” his mother always used to say. “Please stop!”

  The wagon did, though not before the horses came within a few feet of the little thief. Fenzig could tell they’d been running hard. There was a thin sheen of sweat on their heaving sides, and they snorted loudly. Perhaps something had spooked them, like a snake in the road. Or perhaps the driver was simply in a hurry to get somewhere. He liked the idea of the driver being in the mood to get somewhere fast.

  “You there,” the driver called in a reedy tenor voice. He stood and dangled the reins in his right hand; his
left hand was on his hip. The pose made him look annoyed—which Fenzig judged he was. His expression was stern, and his voice matched it. “You can’t just walk down the center of the road blocking traffic. It’s not polite. And I’m in a hurry. Move, little boy. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

  “Of course they did.” Fenzig offered the driver a weak smile. “But I’m not a little boy. I’m a gnome.”

  “A gnome?”

  “Gnome,” Fenzig replied. “One of the small people. We don’t get any bigger than this. As a matter of fact, I’m taller than most gnomes.”

  “Oh, I see. I’ve heard of your kind, but I never saw one this close. Never had a gnome for a customer before.”

  “Well, we’re all over this land,” Fenzig added, “but most of us stay in our own town, leaving human cities to humans.”

  “I see. Probably a good idea. So why don’t you go back to your tiny town and get out of the middle of the road.”

  “How about a ride?” Fenzig put on his best face.

  “How about buying some hair removal tonic for your feet? I’m a salesman, and I have a few jars in the wagon. I’ll sell them to you at a discount. Then we’ll talk about a ride.”

  “No thanks. Gnomes are supposed to have hairy feet.”

  “Hmm. Then how about some hair growth tonic? Guaranteed to produce thick, luxurious, curly locks to keep your feet warm on those cold winter nights.”

  “It’s a long time until winter,” Fenzig replied. “But I might buy some if I had any money.” The gnome’s mind began churning, concocting a tale that quickly tumbled from his lips. “I had lots of money, enough to buy dozens of jars of your tonic, but I was robbed by bandits on the side of the road several miles back, near the Haunted Woods. I’m surprised they didn’t try to rob you, too. They killed my pony, roughed me up, and took all my coins—everything but my old sword. I was on my way to K’Nosha to visit my favorite aunt. She’s very sick and might not live much longer. Now that I’m without transportation, I might not get there before it’s too late.” The gnome shed a few tears for effect.