Chuggie and the Desecration of Stagwater

by Brent Michael Kelley

  Coming to an abrupt halt, she held the podium blade up for Chuggie to see. To his surprise, the blade's edge had not a single nick or blemish from striking the stones.

  He nodded and grinned at her. "Let's ride."

  The three mounted up and rode toward the northern gate.

  The houses north of the town square were luxurious. Only one family seemed to live in each, and the buildings didn't have a coat of soot. Actual lawns separated homes from the street.

  Chuggie shook his head. He doubted these people knew or cared about the living conditions in Carnietown. What business was it of theirs if the poor froze or starved?

  As Chuggie and company approached the northern city gate, the guardsmen took notice. Two of them slid down a pole to the street. "Who are you, and what is your business?" asked the bleary-eyed senior officer.

  "I'm Norchug Mot Losiat," Chuggie answered. "Lemme out!"

  The guardsmen conferred for a moment, then waved to their colleague in the gate control tower. The spiked, iron-lattice gate rose with a loud clacking. Apparently, word had gotten around that Chuggie was no one to trifle with.

  Chuggie, Faben, and Dawes rode through the gate and up a logging road. Soon they entered a maple grove, and the city disappeared behind them.

  As the morning breeze lost its chill, all Chuggie could smell were his unscrubbed goats. The smell took him down the winding road of his memory. Once he'd ridden a wargoat into a terpeskoa-filled mist alongside —.

  "What's the story with that chain and anchor around your chest?" Dawes asked.

  "Not something I care to talk about, thanks," said Chuggie.

  "Well, what about the hat?" Dawes kicked his goat to a faster pace, so he rode at Chuggie's side.

  Chuggie rolled his eyes. "The hat was a gift from none of your business. No offense, kid, but when I want to give you my life story, I'll beat it into you."

  Faben shot Dawes a narrow-eyed look and mouthed Shut up. NOW.

  And Dawes did stop, but not for long.

  Less than five minutes passed before Dawes called out to Chuggie. "Where were you born? Hey, I said where were you born?"

  "I meant it, Chuggie," said Faben. "You can slap him any time you want."

  "I would, but I think I'd break him." Chuggie narrowed his eyes at the youth.

  "He asks questions when he's nervous," Faben explained.

  "Hey, I'm not nervous!" said Dawes. "I'm excited. Big difference."

  "That's great, kid," said Chuggie. He pulled his goat to a halt. "Aw, damn it all! I forgot something back in town. Dawes, will you scoot back and get it for me?"

  "What did you forget?" asked Dawes.

  "Oh, you'll know it when you see it. Meet me back here with it tomorrow." Chuggie chuckled.

  Faben laughed, too.

  "Oh, you guys are so funny." Dawes pouted like a six-year-old whose big brother had taken his toys. When he stopped to water the bushes, Chuggie and Faben pulled ahead.

  "You got any family wondering where you are, Chuggie?" Faben asked.

  Chuggie's smile vanished. "One brother, two sisters. Four of us. Mischief, mayhem, want, and woe."

  "I see," said Faben. "Which one are you, Chug-along?"

  "Want, I guess. That's how the story goes, anyway." He looked up at the skeletal branches of a towering oak. A troupe of red-eyed crows watched him back, which he hoped was a good omen.

  "Is the rest of your family like you?"

  "Yep, probably more so than I like to admit. Fire, Flood, Sickness, an' Drought. That's us." Chuggie didn't like to talk about them, but it felt good to confide in Faben as long as Dawes didn't hear. The kid would never be able to shut up about Chuggie's family.

  "Hmm, I'd hate to attend your family reunion. And I thought my kin were bad."

  "Sister Flood, well, it'd be an understatement to say she's sad all the time. She cries an' cries. Cries rivers, all 'cause of some deep sadness she can't ever cry away. Sister Fire, she's not out to hurt anybody, just out for a little mischief. She likes to play with flames, and who could blame her? Sometimes they get away from her. Sometimes they get away real bad." Chuggie lit his boar tusk pipe.

  "And what about your brother. Sickness?"

  Chuggie nodded his head. Well, she was going to ask sooner or later, the way the conversation was going. He lowered his head and blew smoke out his nose. "Every family's got one, don't they? A black sheep."

  "I suppose they do."

  "I see his touch everywhere I go. His mind is as sick as his body. He ain't anybody's friend. He wants mayhem. He'd tear the world to pieces if he could. He used to march across the land spreading disease and madness. These days, I think he just sits back and watches it spread on its own. Like the rest of us, he's died many times. And he's got his own private Hell to go to when he does. When the conditions are right, he comes back to pick up where he left off. That's all I care to say about my brother 'n sisters."

  "I don't blame you," said Faben. She furrowed her brow and stared straight ahead at the ever-vanishing trail. "You said you were Want. I'm not sure I understand that."

  "I'm want. It means I thirst. It means I'm poor. It means something's missing. It means I fall short." Chuggie spat at a mossy log. His eyes pointed at the ground, but his gaze pointed inward.

  "That sounds like you always get the losing end of the stick. If that's really true, why would you keep on trying?"

  "It's just true enough." Chuggie squinted. "Result is I don't waste a lot of time makin' plans. Usually just go. Livin' like that can really shake the confidence if you aren't as amazing as ol' Chuggers." His smile returned.

  Faben laughed. "I know exactly what you mean."

  The orchards of elm and oak gave way to stunted pines and twisting thornwoods. Jagged stones spread over the ground, often hidden by leaves and weeds. Chuggie was glad to be mounted on a goat.

  Dawes galloped to catch up. "What's the hurry? What are you guys talking about?"

  "We're just noting all the good places out here to hide a body." Chuggie gave Dawes a cold stare. The kid clammed up, but Chuggie wondered how long until that'd wear off.

  The group made their way north, plodding through the tangled undergrowth. High above, massive pine branches formed a canopy against the daylight. Crows cawed here and there. He followed the landmarks described on his map. Somewhere beyond halfway, a clearing offered them a reasonable place to rest. Leaves covered the ground, along with boulders the right size for sitting upon.

  Chuggie tied his goats to a log at the clearing's edge and stretched.

  Faben stomped her summoner's podium into the ground, laid her book upon it, and turned to a page marked with a purple ribbon.

  "Go gather me up some sticks," said Faben to Dawes.

  "What kind of sticks?"

  "Any damn sticks," she snapped.

  "Hey, why so much hostility today, Faben?" Dawes looked like she's slapped him.

  "We aren't playing games out here, Dawes. If I tell you to do something, you do it. That's how Woodsmen operate in the field, and if you don't understand that, I can't send you to the Lodge." She stared sternly at him until he got to work.

  The way Faben watched her apprentice gather up sticks roused Chuggie's curiosity. Her mouth hinted at a smile, though her eyes were difficult to read behind her yellow glasses. She was up to something, and he had a hunch it'd be entertaining.

  As Dawes brought her the sticks, Faben laid them out in a twenty-foot circle. Her brow furrowed with concentration as she went about the task. Dawes looked on with bewilderment and a touch of worry. As if trying to stay on her good side, he took some of the sticks and helped complete the circle.

  Chuggie folded his arms and leaned back against a boulder to watch the show.

  Faben grabbed Dawes by the shoulders. "Stand right here," she said, positioning him a few feet outside the circle, halfway between her podium and the circle's center. She planted herself in front of her podium and read from her book.

  Dawes squirme
d and cast worried glances over his shoulder.

  Faben spoke strange words and with gestures drew invisible symbols in the air. Black smoke filled the circle. A sound like crackling energy emerged from the smoke.

  "Who summons the Mighty Gargulak?" a voice boomed.

  Dawes cringed and turned to flee, but Faben halted him by pointing a finger and raising her eyebrows.

  "It is I, Faben Brassline, who has called you to this realm. O Gargulak, will you accept these offerings?"

  Chuggie squinted into the cloud of smoke; his eyes went wide with anticipation. He couldn't make out a figure, but Dawes looked ready to bolt — like he'd explode if a moth landed on his shoulder. Chuggie held back a laugh.

  "What offerings?" Gargulak boomed.

  "I haven't got any offerings," Faben responded. "I have questions, and you can have as many as you like."

  Chuggie laughed as Dawes trembled and quaked and backed away from the creature.

  "Then I do not accept. Release me." The smoke began to collect and congeal. Gargulak took the shape of a tall man, easily twice Faben's height, with eight smoky wings. He smiled, revealing rows of huge, sharp teeth. Playful madness danced in his eyes. "Make your offering, or be destroyed!"

  A whirlwind of autumn leaves swirled around the circle.

  Dawes put his shaking arms up to protect his face.

  Chuggie wondered how long Dawes' bladder would hold out.

  "What can we sacrifice to you, vengeful demon?" Faben asked. She glanced at Chuggie with a bright smile. He nearly lost it when she winked at him.

  Gargulak lowered his gaze slowly to Dawes. As the demon's eyes turned to narrow slits of glowing yellow, Dawes' eyes stretched wide with alarm. The demon smiled, displaying his sharp teeth.

  Dawes' mouth formed a tiny, frightened "O."

  Chuggie guessed the kid wanted to run but couldn't make his legs work. If this didn't shut him up, nothing would.

  Gargulak grew taller and thicker inside the circle, pointing a long, clawed finger at Dawes. "Faben Brassline, how much blood pumps through that man? Enough to fill my chalice?"

  "Oh, plenty of blood," Faben answered. "Plenty of blood. He'll fill your chalice, certainly."

  "Boy!" Gargulak shouted at Dawes. "Come closer."

  Dawes turned his gaping, disbelieving eyes to Faben, his mouth a quaking cave of terror. She gave him a serious nod, and Dawes stepped closer to the growing demon like a man stepping up to the gallows. The kid swallowed hard as he craned his neck up to look into Gargulak's mad smile.

  Faben moved behind Dawes without making a sound.

  "Now give me your hand." The demon held out a barbed, oily claw. "Come on, give it to me!"

  With a startled yelp, Dawes jumped back. He bumped hard into Faben and yelped again. He spun around and gasped as he looked into Faben's face. Like a fox, she smiled, then shoved him.

  Dawes stumbled backward, flailing in terror. He tripped on the sticks and landed flat on his back at the demon's feet.

  Gargulak peered down at the horrified sacrifice and let loose a deafening howl of laughter. Massive, smoky hands snatched Dawes up. Gargulak's wings beat at the air as he lifted off the ground with Dawes in his arms. He flapped his wings and rotated. The demon spun faster and faster.

  The summoning circle filled with a column of whirling smoke. The leaves blowing about the clearing spiraled into the circle. Crows cawed and followed the leaves into the smoke, adding their screams to the turmoil.

  "Please, please!" Dawes screamed. "Faben, how could you betray me?" His words fell apart and became unintelligible sobs. They melted into a continuous high-pitched shriek.

  Chuggie fell to hands and knees. He cackled uncontrollably and pounded the dirt with his hand. Part of him felt bad for Dawes, but not a very big part.

  The wind in the clearing receded, and the cloud in the circle dissipated. Dawes spun down to the ground. His hoarse wails tapered off as he touched gently down on the ground.

  He curled into a shaking ball and clamped his hands over his eyes.

  Gargulak re-solidified. His shape stayed the same, only much smaller. The demon now only stood as tall as Faben's chest. "Thank you, Faben." Gargulak gave up the ominous sounding voice. He sounded more like a man getting ready to tell a dirty joke. That was exactly the appropriate sacrifice."

  Chuggie's laughter turned into a coughing fit, but he still pounded the ground.

  "O, Gargulak," Faben smiled as she dried her eyes, "we thank you for your generosity."

  "You know something, Brassline?" Gargulak chuckled. "You are an amazing bull-shitter."

  "Of course I am," Faben said.

  Dawes scrambled to his feet and scurried away from the demon. In doing so, he broke the circle of sticks. Dawes' mouth fell open. He looked from the breach to the demon.

  "Oh that." Garulak waved his hand dismissively. "Symbolic. Didn't you learn anything in summoning school?"

  Clutching his chest, Dawes' voice cracked as he drew a knife and pointed it at Faben. "You maniac! Why would you do that to me?"

  Faben raised her hands to Dawes, palms up. She shrugged. "How else are you going to learn?"

  Chuggie couldn't stop laughing. He tried to get to his feet with the help of a nearby boulder and had to hold onto it to keep from falling down again.

  Dawes threw a rock at Chuggie. "You think this is funny? My heart is about to explode, and you pig fucking whores are laughing about it! You planned this all along!"

  Chuggie gasped once to catch his breath, then sat back against a boulder and lit his pipe. "Now, Dawes —."

  "You rat! Why did you make me come here? To humiliate me? Mock me? What's next, Faben?" Dawes spat on the ground.

  Faben grabbed Dawes by the shirt and pulled him close. "Do you think I pushed you in the circle to play games, boy? Do you think a Woodsman plays games? I pushed you in because you have to be tested. You have to face a creature bent on your destruction to see what you're made of. Seconds ago, you believed you were going to be torn apart by a demon. And now you know how truly unprepared you are. Lucky for you, Gargulak couldn't harm a fly."

  "Hey!" shouted Gargulak. "Could too."

  "Next time you won't be so lucky." Faben released Dawes and shoved him away. "Next time, hopefully, you'll be able to keep your wits about you."

  Dawes hung his head in submission.

  "All right, break's over, kids." Chuggie got to his feet and dusted himself off. "Still got a ways to go before lunch."

  Faben turned to the demon. "Listen, I need to know what manner of creature we're going to face."

  Gargulak sighed. "How would I know, Faben? This is your world, right? I don't show up here asking what vile creature lives in my yard. That would be pointless. You'd have no way of knowing that."

  "All right then," Faben raised her hands. "That will be all, mighty Gargulak. Thank you for all you've bestowed upon us mortals. I release you back to the dark realms from whence you came."

  "You know something, Brassline?" said the demon. "Someday I'm going to figure out how to summon you to my world. Won't that be a laugh?" Gargulak burst apart, leaving behind a cloud of smoke soon erased by the breeze.

  The three mounted their goats and resumed the trek. Dawes barely said a word as they plodded up the forest trail. At first Chuggie found the quiet refreshing, until, from the corner of his eye, he caught Dawes wiping tears away. Plenty, it seemed, went on inside the young man's head. If the kid was smart, he was busy questioning everything he thought he knew about the life of a Woodsman.

  After a few more miles, the goats became restless. Soon they stopped and refused to go further. They bleated and reared up until their riders dismounted. Chuggie sniffed the air. It was almost as if the goats smelled something strange up ahead.

  "Hey kid, you speak goat?" Chuggie asked Dawes.

  Dawes shook his head. The kid still wasn't talking. Sure would have been handy to know what the goats were all riled up about. In any case, the goats refused to budge anothe
r step to the north.

  "Something's up." Chuggie peered up the path. It got tighter and darker ahead.

  "You think we got trouble?" Faben asked.

  "Animals know." Chuggie led his goats over to a fallen tree and tied them up. He rummaged through his gear and pulled out a pair of hatchets.

  Faben and Dawes tied their goats next to Chuggie's. Faben swung her summoner's podium in the air, while Dawes stood next to his goat and stared at his feet.

  "Gear up, Dawes. We need to be prepared to move fast." Faben swung her podium one last time, then tucked it under her arm.

  "I'll stay here and guard the goats," Dawes said without looking up.

  "What?" Faben tilted her head.

  "A wolf or something will eat them if we just tie them and leave."

  "Only gonna get worse from here, Faben," Chuggie said. "If he don't want in, he shouldn't be in." Chuggie hoped she would leave the kid behind. He'd be nothing but a liability.

  Faben took a step toward Dawes. "If you stay here, how will I see how you fight? How will I see your grit and guts?"

  "You won't." Dawes shrugged, looking back down at his feet.

  "For me to endorse you to the Lodge —." Faben began.

  "Screw your Lodge!" Dawes blurted out. "I can't go on, don't you see? I'm going to die if I go with you!" He opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out.

  "Come on," Chuggie said to Faben. "Daylight's burnin'. Sort him out another time."

  "All right, listen." Faben grabbed Dawes by the shoulder and shook him for emphasis. "If we aren't back in a couple hours, you ride on home. I mean it. Get your ass back to the city by nightfall. Get it?" She let go of him and followed after Chuggie.

  Chuggie glanced over his shoulder. He'd never seen a face that looked so relieved to be left behind in the woods.

  Chuggie and Faben went forward on foot. They didn't say much until they'd put some distance between themselves and Dawes.

  "Better off without him," said Chuggie.

  "You're probably right, but it's damn disappointing. I spent a lot of time working with him. Damn disappointing." Faben hacked down a sapling with her podium and kicked it out of the way.