Picayune

by John DeJordy

Thunder-Strike emerged and leered at Phineas. “Either he does what he is told the first time, or he will be beetle food.” The massive badger lifted his foot to kick the squirrel, but Phineas was too quick for him, executing a front flip over the few badgers present. Instead of striking the squirrel’s tail, Thunder-Strike's kick threw him off balance and he fell on his face.

  The one identified as Trailblazer snickered, and covered his mouth. “Come this way.”

  Picayune, Phineas, and Swift-Hopper followed the badgers down a path that took them away from the heart of the community, down a sloped path that looked as though they were walking down a dried-up riverbed. Picayune breathed harder as the air became hot and humid. It reminded him of summer days right after a rainstorm.

  The trail bent to the right and revealed a larger passage. The three of them stopped. Dozens of simple straw pallets littered the floor. Most of them were empty, but those that were occupied didn't look to be in good condition.

  “Over there.” Trailblazer pointed as he walked to three beds against the wall. “Put their empty bags here,” he ordered the other badgers. Turning to Phineas, he snorted and flicked his teeth with his tongue. “This is your new home. If you plan on eating tonight, you have to work first. Come with me.” He headed into the tunnel that was opposite the one they had used. Just before they entered, he jerked back unexpectedly with a small dirk in his hand.

  Picayune winced and shied away from the badger. “What are you going to do?”

  Trailblazer grabbed Picayune’s bound hands and bent down. In a barely audible whisper, he said, “Please, I won't hurt you.”

  Picayune stood his ground and held up his trembling hands. The badger cut both dormouse and kangaroo rat free. Turning to Phineas, he said, “For your friend's sake, don't give me any trouble.” Phineas squared off with him.

  “Please,” Trailblazer asked with a soft voice. His eyes darted to see if anyone else was listening.

  Phineas eased his stance and held his arms out, letting Trailblazer cut his binds.

  “Move along,” Thunder-Strike punched Phineas from behind with such force that it sent Phineas into the wall.

  A barbed whip appeared around Thunder-Strike's neck. “Enough!” the voice demanded. “These are our guests, remember?” The source of the voice was cloaked in shadows.

  Thunder-Strike knelt and choked. “Yes, Ma'am.” His voice trembled and he looked at his feet.

  The whip snapped, easing its grasp on the badger's neck. The wielder of the weapon stepped into view. Even Phineas gulped at the size of the female badger. She towered over Thunder-Strike in the same way that Thunder-Strike towered over Picayune. Her coat was black as coal. Even the lights failed to illuminate details on her massive form.

  “You won't be harmed, provided you do the work we ask,” the female told them.

  Without another word, they followed the badgers down the tunnel. To Picayune, it seemed the heat increased with every step they took. As before, the tunnel narrowed, twisted, and dipped until one bend opened into another circular chamber. Lining the walls were critters from all walks of life. They tore into the moist earth with their claws, tearing out large chunks of dirt they then sifted through their paws. Occasionally, one of them would find a bluish rock, which they tossed into baskets.

  “Spirit rock,” Phineas said, surprised.

  “What are spirit rocks?” Picayune asked while they walked to an empty section of the wall.

  “Spirit rocks are used in mystical spells and many other things. My aunt Sybil knows all about their many uses.”

  They looked at the two individuals beside them. To their right was a lizard so thin his ribs were showing. His scales, which should have been as brilliant as emeralds, had dulled to a pea green. To the left was a rabbit. His fur was muddy brown, although it was easy to tell it used to be a creamy white from the few patches of fur that were still clean.

  Swift-Hopper was taken to the center of the room. The badgers worked together to hook the larger baskets to him like huge saddlebags. A pair of badgers checked their captives’ baskets, one by one. The first counted the rocks while the second recorded the amount before emptying the rocks into Swift-Hopper’s baskets. When they were full, the badgers led him into a tunnel that split off from the room.

  “Put any blue rocks you find into the baskets. Someone is watching you all the time. The more rocks you find, the better you eat,” Trailblazer barked. As he went to leave, he grabbed Picayune's arm in a show of anger. He leaned down and whispered, “We will talk later. For now, pretend I frighten you.” With that, he flung Picayune with enough force to spin him into the wall.

  Picayune asked one of the prisoners without looking at him. “What is that smell?”

  The lizard stopped working for a moment. “Oh, that’s just the badgers. You’ll get used to it after a while. We have to work now.” He faced the wall and continued.

  Digging into the moist dirt, Picayune yelped. He stopped when it got under his nails, not enjoying the feeling. He took his paws out of the dirt to shake them free and felt a stone in his hand. His skin tingled as if he had just shuffled his bare feet across his father's thick rug. The blue rock danced across his palm while he stared at it.

  “Just put it in the basket,” one of the badgers scolded him.

  Picayune shook his head, breaking the hold the rock had on him. He went to toss the rock in his basket, but the rock clung to his hand. When the second attempt to free the rock failed, he picked it up with the tips of his claws, pried it free, and tossed it in with the others.

  He dug into the wall again. Barely getting up to his knuckles, he felt objects jump into both of his hands, forcing him to extract them. He looked blankly at the two magical rocks. Titling his head to one side, his ears twitched and he heard whispering from the two orbs.

  “Are we going to have trouble?” the younger of the two badgers asked.

  “No, sir, but the rocks are talking,” Picayune stated without thinking about what he was saying.

  “Right, rocks are talking,” the badger replied with a smirk on his face. “We have a live one here.”

  Picayune frowned and put the rocks in his basket. Every time he put his hands in the dirt, more and more of the things would cling to them. Before Phineas had a dozen rocks, Picayune had already filled his container.

  “Switch them,” he told the redtail.

  Phineas nodded and waited for the badger nearest him to turn his back before switching the two containers. He carefully shared the rocks among the nearby prisoners before setting the baskets aside to be collected.

  Hours had passed when the patrol came back. By that time, the four of them had nearly full baskets. Swift-Hopper had been back and forth many times, taking away the filled buckets.

  “Well, looks like these two inspired the others,” one badger commented. “This is the most I've seen anyone pull out on their first day.”

  “Shift over,” a fat badger yelled as he waddled into the room.

  Phineas helped the lizard, taking the frail arm around his own neck and shoulder to support the reptile's weight.

  “Name's Lacertil, but you can call me Lacer,” the lizard told him in a weak voice. “How did your friend manage to do what he did?”

  “I am not quite sure,” Phineas replied. “My auntie told me that every one thousand generations, a 'Spirit Touched' is born. Perhaps he is one of those.”

  Picayune helped the rabbit into the main room. He was concerned for his new friend, considering that he couldn't even feel the lapin's weight when the rabbit leaned against him.

  “I am Kaninchen, but you can just call me Alacrity. Thank you for helping me with the rocks.” Alacrity had an almost imperceptibly soft voice. “Most people don't even know I can talk,” he added after a long pause.

  Picayune sat down next to them on the cold, moldy straw. He looked down at his lap, clasping his paws. “How long have you been here?”

  Lacer flopped back on his makeshift bed and closed hi
s eyes. He tried to answer, but his parched throat robbed him of any voice. Panting few times, he said, “No idea. I used to be big, though. My Mom would always get on my case about having to do more exercise. I used to think it was annoying, but I'd give anything to hear her voice again, even if it was her yelling at me.”

  Alacrity pushed aside some of his bedding. On the cold, stone floor, he had made marks that were barely more than idle scratches. Counting some of the numbers aloud, he squirmed down the entire length of his bed before looking up, “Four hundred thirty-eight shifts.” He put his bed back in its original position.

  “You're kidding!” Phineas said in shock. “Why haven't you tried to escape?”

  “If you fail, they feed you to Nom-Nom,” Alacrity said, his face paling. “Alive.”

  “And who is this Nom-Nom?”

  “Nom-Nom is an enormously huge, gigantic fire beetle!”

  Before Phineas could respond, the squeaking of rusty metal wheels caused the quiet murmur in the room to stop. Four badgers, two on each side, guarded a fifth, who was pushing a large wooden box on wheels. The badgers made their way over to Picayune's group before stopping. The sounds of growling stomachs echoed over the chatter when the wafting aroma of vegetable soup reached their noses.

  “You there!” The fat badger pushing the cart pointed at Picayune. “Get up and over here.”

  Picayune looked at the others before rising and making his way over the cart. Inside, he could see a small quantity of various vegetables floating in dark broth. The badger took a small, empty turtle shell from the bottom shelf of the cart and dunked it in the weak soup. The badger pulled out a small loaf of bread and handed both the bread and soup to Picayune. Taking the bowl without question, Picayune noticed that his bowl contained a majority of the vegetables.

  One by one, his group was summoned up, each time taking some of the dwindling food until Alacrity, who was last, took the last of the vegetables.

  The badgers huffed, moving along the wall to the other groups, distributing scant mouthfuls of broth to the other inmates. When they left, Picayune also noticed that he was the only one to receive bread. He broke it in half and was relieved to discover the bread was freshly made. He broke the bread into pieces, handed them out to his companions, and ate his soup and bread without saying anything.

  “That was the best I've eaten since I've been here.” Alacrity licked the inside of the shell.

  “Why don't they feed you better, if they want to make you work?” Picayune put down his bowl.

  Lacer nibbled the last bits of his bread. “They do what their queen tells them to do. I think they fear her. They are used to just replacing us when we fail to meet their expectations.”

  Picayune snapped his head in the direction of Phineas, with his eyes wide and his mouth quivering. “How am I going to save Ameera?”

  Seeing his friend's reaction, Phineas told him firmly, “We will get out of here. For now, I'd like to know why they need the spirit rocks.”

  Picayune plucked a spirit rock out from a thick section of his fur. “It is still whispering.” He rolled the magical rock over on his palm.

  “Are you mad?” Lacer shouted gruffly. His eyes darted left and right when he realized his voice was much too loud. “Look, the badgers want the spirit rock to aid them in the war against the Hoo-Caw tribe.”

  “Who are they?” Picayune handed the marble-sized piece to Phineas. “Could you conceal this in your usual hiding spot?”

  Phineas nodded, taking the rock from his friend. As the other two watched, he reached into his tail and safely stored the stone, before turning to Lacer.

  “They are the strongest of the hawk tribes of the northern mountains who have been terrorizing the badgers for years. They look like normal hawks, but possess unusual strength, which grants them an advantage in battle. The badgers tried reasoning with them, but that ended in disaster. On one occasion, though, they managed to capture a hawk courier and intercept an old instruction manual describing hundreds of ways to use spirit rock – some good, some evil.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Phineas asked.

  “One of the badgers doesn't like our situation, but fears what they'd do to him if they discovered his sympathy. He's been able to give me a few details during the time I've been here.” Lacer curled up on the straw to get some sleep.

  “Better go to bed, they wake us early to work.” Alacrity added a mark to his count.

  Picayune lay on his side, his ears twitching in response to the sounds the spirit rock was making. The noise was actually calming, almost like a hushed lullaby, causing him to close his eyes and fall into a deep slumber.

  Chapter 10

  The courageous knight's alabaster stallion cantered into the cobblestone courtyard. The clip-clopping sound of horseshoes echoing off the walls caused everyone to pause in their work. Halious, the sun, shone brightly in the blue sky, unobstructed by even the lightest of clouds. Rays gleamed off the knight's highly polished metal armor. He resembled a lighthouse beacon on a clear night, blessed by the deities.

  He swung a leg over the saddle and slipped to the ground, lifting his visor to get a better view of those watching. A few gardeners, dressed in fine clothing, were busy trimming one of the modeled hedges into the shape of a majestic lion with such fine details as a flowing mane and rippling muscles.

  The knight led his horse into the main courtyard and was stopped by a young stable boy who ran over to him. “Take your horse, mister?”

  Picayune handed the reins to the boy. “He is more than just a stallion. He is my companion, so take good care of him.”

  The boy peered up at the knight. “I'll give him a good washing and grooming.”

  Picayune ran his hand through the lad's blonde hair. “Just a brushing, I won't be here long enough for a washing.”

  The boy nodded before leading the stallion into the wooden stable.

  After viewing his many options for entering the castle, the knight strode up the main stairs, which were lined with footmen dressed in elaborate gear. Large, reinforced gates were open in the foyer of the castle. When he started to enter, one of the keep's stewards stopped the knight's forward progress.

  With his hands behind his back and his head arched back, the steward looked down his nose as he examined the knight. He brushed some imaginary dirt from his fine silk robe with his hands and said, “State the purpose of your visit.”

  The knight stood tall and cleared his throat. “I need to speak to the king about the problem he is having with the orcs.”

  The adjunct took a piece of crimson and purple cloth from his pocket and handed it to the knight. “Tie a peace knot around the pummel of your sword.”

  The knight nodded, taking the cloth. He wrapped it over and under the cross-guard of the weapon and around the scabbard. When he was done, he offered his weapon for inspection while maintaining his hold on the leather sheath.

  The steward tested the sword's security by pulling on the grip. When the sword didn't budge, he nodded and said, “My name is Charles. Please follow me.” He spun crisply in place and walked down the black marble hallway, approaching the well-lit throne room.

  Picayune marveled at the display of wealth as they passed the multitude of elaborate embroidered tapestries, fine urns and vases, and marbled statues overflowing their recessed alcoves.

  When they entered the throne room, the knight was stunned, stopping in place for a moment. His eyes were drawn to the walls lined in gold and gems arranged in a pattern around the thrones. The royal chairs were made of precious metals and lined with the finest silks. Behind the thrones hung a large crimson and purple banner depicting a claw clenched around a gem.

  The knight bowed to the left to acknowledge the king, who was dressed in brightly colored clothes. He nodded slightly as his gaze moved to his right to the queen, who was also elaborately dressed, with a full, plumed headpiece. Both looked exactly like a painting Picayune had seen of the royal couple.

 
The queen beckoned him forward with a short motion of her hand. “Come closer, young knight, so that we may better see you.”

  The uplifting voice of the queen brought the awestruck knight out of his stupor and back to the present. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He approached the royal couple with a few long strides, keeping his legs perfectly straight. He stood up tall, then bowed, staying in that position.

  Like the steward had done before, the king leaned his head back and looked down his nose. “Arise! Why have you come to my lands?”

  With a prideful voice, Picayune looked directly into the king's eyes. “I am here to help rid you of the orcs that ravage your lands.”

  The king raised an eyebrow. “What army have you brought to accomplish this?”

  “I am here by myself, your majesty,” Picayune replied, driven by the code of chivalry to answer questions honestly.

  The regal tone of the queen's voice was replaced by the sounds of doubt. “And what makes you think you can accomplish what our armies have not?”

  The knight cast a surprised look at the queen. “Often, an individual can accomplish things that a vast and powerful army cannot. Where they would be easily seen, I can get close enough to make them feel my presence. I give my word that I will take care of your problem.”

  The king coughed into his fist. His other hand swatted an annoying fly. “And what do you want from us, in exchange for this service?”

  “I need your permission to enter the Mines of Despair to retrieve my love, who was taken there.”

  The queen took the king's hand into her own. “We appreciate you coming to us to ask permission, but why not go there yourself?”

  “My honor compels me to do so, your majesties. Do you not have a notice up stating no one is to enter?”

  “Sometimes,” the queen started, “passion supersedes honor. If you are pure, following your heart can never lead you astray. We agree to your terms. Go north into the Nartiv woods and you will find the orcs.”

  The knight bowed. “Thank you.” He departed, taking long strides out of the castle. He reached the stable and enjoyed what he saw.