by Martha Carr
Yumfuck made his way down the hall turning into the activities room where several residents were sitting in chairs watching the weather channel.
“Bleh!” The troll spotted the remote in the hands of an elderly man’s hands and trilled softly, smiling at the man as he held out his hands.
The man gave a toothless smile and slid the remote toward the troll, chuckling. “I used to put a cowboy hat on my dog.” The man put out a finger and rubbed the troll’s head as the troll trilled, shutting his eyes for a moment.
Yumfuck picked up the remote and held it over his head, jumping down to get closer to the television. He flipped through the channels till he found a movie channel playing Dirty Dancing and squealed with delight.
He put down the remote and lifted his arms over his head, dancing to the music as the residents started to clap in time with the beat. The troll trilled with delight and bent over toward the residents, twerking as he backed up closer to them. Several of the residents were dancing in their chairs, waving their arms.
“Woot! Woot!” The troll watched the girl run toward the man as he lifted her over his head.
“Oooooh, yeah? Yeah!” He nodded as an elderly woman nodded back. The troll raised his arms high over his head and ran toward the woman as she put down her hand scooping up the troll and lifting him over her head.
He arched his back, holding out his arms and legs, smiling so all his sharp, pointy teeth showed. The woman put him gently back down on the floor as the troll turned and took a bow, waving his hat in front of him. “Yumfuck,” he said, solemnly.
“Yumfuck,” she said, nodding her head graciously.
The troll went and took another bow in front of the group and gave a big wave. “Dancing with the Stars!” he chirped. “Yumfuck!”
“What’s all the commotion in here? Who changed the channel?” A large orderly came barreling into the room straight for the remote. The troll backed up to the wall, hugging it closely until he got to the door and ran out of the room. He stopped at the front desk and hopped up to take three roses out of a vase before he grew back to the size of the large dog, opening the doors. He turned around just as he got outside and waved at the cameras, smiling. “Yumfuck!”
The guard sitting in front of the monitor spit out his coffee and stood up suddenly, not sure who to call.
The orderly in the activities room changed the channel back to the weather as a resident said, “Yumfuck!” pounding his fist on the table. He was soon joined by another, and another, all pounding their fists or tapping their canes. “Yumfuck! Yumfuck!”
“Okay, okay,” said the orderly changing the channel back. The other orderly on the floor came in the room, scratching his head again. “Did we miss something? What’s with all the yumfucking?”
Yumfuck finally made his way to Eireka and Mara’s door where he knocked politely standing back as Mara opened the door. “I don’t suppose anyone knows you left.”
The troll held up the flowers, smiling and nodding, his fingers crossed behind his back.
Mara leaned down and took the flowers. “Thank you, and don’t kid a kidder. Just so you know, I’m calling Leira to let her know where you are. Come on in, are you hungry?”
“Yumfuck!” He strolled in and settled onto the couch. “Nobody puts baby in a corner,” he squeaked.
“One of these days you’re going to tell me about your adventures.” Mara shook her head and went into the kitchen to get him some food.
The troll snickered and reached for the remote, searching for another movie to watch.
Chapter Twenty
The teenage Light Elf made his way up the rocky slope of Camelback mountain to the Dark Kemana. His sneakers slipped on a rock, the burned rubber tip brushing against the clay, streaking it with dirt. His bright red hair matched the red windbreaker he was wearing. Not enough protection against the wind as he climbed higher in the early morning light but he didn’t notice.
“Keep going, not much further.” He repeated the whispers he was hearing. They were drowning out every other thought. The voices overlapped each other, calling to him in his dreams, telling him how important he was. We need you. You belong with us. Follow us. Hurry now.
He got to the top and stood in the center watching the sun rise over Phoenix down below. He pulled out his wand and raised it up like he was conducting an orchestra repeating the family spell passed down through generations. Dark magic not to be used before someone was ready. But the whispers told him. You’re ready. Do it.
He started the spell as the voices increased, gaining strength. He pulled in the dark magic, feeling it course through him from generations that came before him. “Expellorium…” A black mist crept up around his ankles as the whispering got louder, enveloping him in the darkness as he finished the spell. The black magic opening a rip in the veil between his world and the world in between.
“It’s beautiful.” He looked inside the shimmering darkness as it sparked all around him, suddenly sucking him in with a whoosh, lifting him off his feet into the world in between.
Leira made her way back through Hilldale, the troll riding on her shoulder. “That was nice of Nana to bring you home.” Leira glanced over at the troll who smiled and let out a soft trill. “You want to tell me about that reporting of a large furry dog smiling at the cameras at a nursing home? The general called to ask me about it. I covered for you.”
“Whew…” The troll wiped his forehead dramatically.
“You need to be a little more careful. Nana wouldn’t say how you managed to find your way over to their apartment. I know you two are keeping secrets.”
The troll turned his face away from Leira and made a point of watching the small cottages as they walked quickly past them.
“Have it your way but secrets come out eventually. Might want to plan on a controlled crash.”
The troll shrugged and let out a cackle, holding on to Leira’s collar.
It wasn’t long before they were back at the Jersey Willen’s front porch. There was a note stuck on a nail by the door marked, ‘Leira’.
“Willens can read. Why does that seem so weird?” Leira pulled down the note and read it.
‘I still owe you the favor but per our agreement, I keep the gold.’
Leira started pounding on the door. “Not good enough, Willen!” she shouted. “Not leaving till I get more of an explanation. Don’t mind if I wake the neighbors with an oversized troll, either.”
The troll looked at her, ready to go.
“Not yet.” Leira pounded on the door again. “I can hear you in there. Thought you guys knew how to move around a little more quietly than that.” She pounded again but the door finally creaked open just a crack. The Jersey Willen stood at the door, his son peeking out from behind him.
Leira pushed the door open further, stepping into the opening. This is too important to get the brush off from a magical rodent.
The younger Willen stepped back, gasping at the sight of the troll. The troll smirked, annoyed and sat down on Leira’s shoulder.
“Tell me what you found out. Sooner you do, sooner I leave. No one will know where I got the information. Now.” Her eyes glowed from the anger and annoyance.
“Okay, okay.” The Willen held up his paws. “But if you tell anyone it was me, my life will be over. Nowhere to hide! Worse than the Gnomes!”
“I told you to be careful…”
“You didn’t tell me you were hunting dark magic like that!”
“What did you see? I’m growing tired of asking.”
“You were right, the humans got more seeds from Oriceran. A lot more. Whatever you did only slowed them down temporarily.”
“Did you see who was in charge?”
The Willen shuddered and gasped, looking up at the ceiling as he groaned. “Terrible, terrible. Alright, already. It was a prophet. Can you believe it? A prophet! Saw him clear as day!”
“Which one?” Leira needed confirmation the Gnome was responsible.
&n
bsp; “The Gnome prophet, yes, the Gnome.”
“Did he see you?”
“No, or you wouldn’t be seeing me now.”
“What did he get in return?”
“All sorts of technology. Boxes and boxes of it.” The Willen waved his arms, the jacket shifting over his belly. “Things from Earth flying over to Oriceran, things from Oriceran flying over to Earth. Never seen anything like it, I tell you! But there’s something more.” He shook his finger at Leira. “Dark magic, the really strong stuff. Nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Not to be meddled with. Terrible, terrible. A prophet!”
“Thank you, your favor to me is over. You did your part.”
“Reluctantly. Please…” The Willen was already shutting the door. “Tell no one. Forget about Hilldale. Forget about the Jersey Willen. Dark magic like that sees through things, goes everywhere.” The door shut with a loud click.
“That was a bum’s rush, Yumfuck. He was really scared. I don’t blame him.” Leira went slowly down the front stairs and walked back in the direction of Hilldale’s square. “Rhazdon may be posing as a prophet. Now we need to prove it. We better get home.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The prophets nervously awaited the old Gnome’s arrival into their chamber at the back of the meeting room. The vote had already taken place and the Gnome was out. There was a growing suspicion about him and his dealings with the Dark Market.
Rumors had finally made their way back to the prophets about the Gnome controlling most of the dealings in the bazaar. An emergency meeting was held without him to discuss their options, particularly given the looming prophesy.
The vote was unanimous. He was fired and all that was left was to take his robe from him and show him the door. Only hitch was that no prophet had ever been fired before in the long history of their group.
“It needed to be done. Overdue,” said the Wood Elf prophet. “Maybe we can ask another Gnome.”
“Who knows what he’s gotten himself involved in, and by extension us. If it all comes out no one will follow us and everyone will be doomed.” The Arpak fluttered his wings. “He’s a thug.”
The Pixie fluttered nervously over her seat and the Kilomea prophet grunted, standing up, the stars shifting on the back of his robe to stay in alignment with the night sky illuminated on the ceiling. The four levels of the gallery went up behind them ringing the room, but they were all gathered down in the well in the front just behind the lit stand in the center that held the worn leather-bound ledger. In the ledger were all the ancient quatrains under a glass dome protected by a spell.
The Gnome stepped inside the room, his eyes widening when he saw all the other prophets crowded together in one long row. A sneer came across his face. “What have we here? There’s a sense of gloom in the air.”
He stepped in closer, letting the door close behind him. “I just received your message and hurried right over. Why do I get the sense you’ve all been here just a bit longer?” He walked slowly around the lit stand. The Light Elf nervously tapped his fingers on his leg, ready for anything.
“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” The Gnome stopped beside the ledger, his arms crossed in front of him. So the day is here, at last. He waited for someone to find their courage. I’ve waited centuries for this moment. Let it take as long as it needs to.
The Light Elf stood, clearing his throat. “The group has asked me to speak for them. It has come to our attention that you are the mastermind behind the Dark Market. You are the one who has been breaking the treaty and opening portals for years now, trafficking in Earth’s technology and trading favors. These are just the things we know about.”
The Gnome scowled. “Your plot to bring over a human who kills the royal Light Elves’ prince and sets a powerful artifact loose in the world. You scheme to harm a human celebrity to put yourselves in a good light and create chaos for the Silver Griffins, and you take responsibility for none of it,” he hissed.
“We had good intentions!” The Nicht prophet leaned forward in his seat.
“You’ve failed at every one of them.”
“All of those ideas started with you,” insisted the Light Elf prophet. “You came up with them!”
“I never heard any protests and I wasn’t in charge of the execution of them.”
“Convenient memory,” said the Pixie. “Tell him the rest.”
The Light Elf stood up straighter. “You’re relieved of your duty. As of today, you are no longer a prophet of any standing. Turn over your robe and you can go.”
“I can go any time I want to. Was this unanimous?”
“On the first vote.”
A smile spread across the Gnome’s face. “Very well.” He removed the robe but didn’t stop there, carefully removing every article of clothing despite the loud and varied protests from the other prophets.
The Gnome ignored their confusion and pleas and spoke the magic words that till then he only dared say in the sanctuary of his small cabin. The transformation began almost immediately.
The sounds of bones stretching and growing filled the chamber, horrifying the other prophets.
“What’s going on?”
“Is he dying?”
His body twisted and pulled as he grimaced. The top of his head sprouted tentacles that slowly grew until they covered his head and the skin on his body became smooth. It only took a few minutes but when it was done no prophet could look away.
It was the moment they would all use to mark time. Before they learned the truth… and after.
Before them stood a naked Atlantean woman. There was stunned silence in the room. Rhazdon turned around in a slow circle, finally comfortable in her own skin, appreciating the gaze of onlookers. Finally, she picked up the robe and held it in front of her. “I’m going to borrow this robe for a little longer.”
“An Atlantean…” gasped the Light Elf.
“Half Atlantean, actually but thank you. We’ve never been formally introduced. My name is Rhazdon, you may have heard of me.”
The Light Elf stumbled backward, catching himself as the Kilomea pulled out the knife he always kept in his boot, despite the prophets’ rules.
“You can’t be! Rhazdon died centuries ago.”
“And was a man!”
“Rumors of my gender were greatly exaggerated. And as you can see, I’m very much alive.” She slipped into the Gnome’s old robe, hanging loosely off her shoulders but barely covering all the necessary parts. “Thank you for this. I was wondering when it would be the right moment but you found it for me. The necklace may have slipped from my fingers, momentarily and my new following has had some setbacks but no bother. I’ve had just enough wins to still be ahead.”
“I don’t believe it.” The Pixie flew a little closer but retreated just as fast.
Rhazdon pointed at the Light Elf. “You’re with the royal court, are you not?” Rhazdon smiled, her eyes cold and menacing. “You never told the public what happened to the king’s father during that last, great battle.” She spit out the last words slowly. “You said he died in combat, killing me. Not true. Liar, liar.” She waved a finger in the air. “How many years has he been trapped in the world in between?” Rhazdon smiled, satisfied as the Light Elf gasped.
“Is it true?” asked the Crystal prophet. The Light Elf sunk into a chair and nodded, the color draining from his face.
“You see? But no one ever knew I was a female. Dark magic can do so many things in the right hands. Of course, in your cases I never had to use it. Good old fashioned suggestions that fed your egos worked just fine.”
“How can you still be alive and look so…”
“Young? Rumors of my power were not exaggerated. I’m a very clever girl.”
“You were the one that broke into the vault!”
“Now you’re catching on. The bitch is back and she has her playthings. Careful, careful boys and girls. I have more than dark magic in my hands now. I have all your secrets. What would Queen S
aria do if she knew you were the ones who let Bill Somers into the castle and set all of this into motion. I thought so. You have very convenient integrity. At least everyone always knew what I stood for and what I was willing to do. Don’t worry, I’ll burn this thing when I’m done with it.” She wrapped the robe tighter around her curves.
The tentacles on her head wrapped themselves into a loose braid down her back. “Thanks for everything. I could have done all this without you but it would have taken more planning.” Rhazdon laughed and waved her arm, opening the door to the main hallway and strutting down the middle of the post office, holding up her chin and giving a cool smile to anyone who stole glances in her direction.
The gargoyles flying overhead let out screeches and flew higher, sensing the dark magic as she passed by the mailboxes. Rhazdon threw up her arms, opening all the boxes sending the mail fluttering through the air in a rain of letters.
She stopped at the door and turned around, smiling. “Tell everyone who cares to know, Rhazdon is alive and well.” She flung open her robe and stood there with her hands on her hips. “That’s right… not a man.” She said the words slowly and evenly.
“She’s beautiful,” whispered a Light Elf. “Perfection.”
“That is some bold move!”
“Rhazdon is dead. It’s been eight hundred years!”
“To look that good… it would take the darkest kind of magic…”
“Is she the one who broke into the library and killed that Gnome?”
“What’s she doing with a prophet’s robe?”
She laughed as some looked away while others stood there with their mouths hanging open.
Rhazdon closed the robe again, turned and marched out of the post office, dark magic radiating off her as her bare feet hardly touched the ground. She reached the edge of the forest, turned and waved at the few people brave enough to follow behind her from a distance. Once she was within the treeline she cast a spell she had found in one of her old books.