Chuggie and the Desecration of Stagwater

by Brent Michael Kelley

  There were barely any people on the street to share her joy, so she skipped her way to a nearby neighborhood. She needed an entire family, any family, with whom to celebrate.

  She approached a house with the name "Stagson" painted on the weathered wooden gate. What better place to begin the celebration of her departure from Stagwater?

  A man sat at a table in the dining room. As she snuck up onto the stoop, she saw two child-sized chairs. This was definitely the place.

  Fey Voletta entered, leaving the door open. The raging wind slammed it against the wall. She hid behind a cabinet as the man of the house jumped from his seat.

  He rushed to the door. "Hello?" he called as he poked his head out the door.

  "What was that?" called a woman, presumably his wife.

  "Wind blew the door open." The man pulled his head back in. He locked the door, and tested that it wouldn't blow open again. He took his seat in the dining room once more and resumed reading his paper.

  Fey Voletta tiptoed up behind him. She slid a long knife from her robe without making a sound. She had the knife in his side and a hand on his mouth before he knew she was there.

  "Shhhh," Fey Voletta, whispered with a gentle voice. The blade in the man's side was significantly less gentle. As he gasped futilely for air, she continued, "I've stabbed through your liver, up into your lung. I cut through your diaphragm, which is why you're having trouble breathing. I'm sure this is very painful, but I don't want you to make any noise, okay? If you do, I'll do the same thing to the rest of your family, got it?"

  He twisted his head to look at Fey Voletta. His eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.

  "Are you alright in there?" the man's wife called out. Her footsteps grew closer.

  Fey Voletta twisted the knife, and the man wailed. His wife's footsteps broke into a run.

  "Oh, well," said Fey Voletta, smiling an icy smile. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I was going to kill them anyway."

  She made short work of the wife and debated leaving the children. Was there anything sadder than an orphan? She stabbed her mercy into the two young sons, sparing them the orphan's life.

  Fey Voletta wiped the Stagmans' blood on a curtain and left the house whistling a happy song. Four was a good start. She wondered if she could get to fifty before Non called her back.

  Back on the street, she heard the music and laughter of a nearby tavern. She followed the sound down an alley, dancing as she went. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so free, so empowered… so lustful. Death was a love song, a seduction scene between herself and the blades she revered.

  She heard young, male voices.

  "Hey!" she called from the shadows.

  A young man walking with two others heard her and stopped. "Hello? Are you talking to me?"

  "Of course I am," she giggled. "Come here and help me lift this thing. You look strong enough."

  The young man shrugged at his friends and walked into the alleyway. "Uh, so what do you need help lifting, miss?" he asked.

  "My dress," she moaned in his ear. Then to his pals she called, "You boys can run along. I don't think this one's gonna need any help from you two."

  The friends on the street laughed and clapped each other on the back.

  "Hurry up, Raph!" one of them said. "You're buying tonight."

  Their laughter disappeared as they entered the tavern.

  Fey Voletta planted slow, breathy kisses on his neck until she felt sure they were alone.

  "Do you know what I want to do to you?" she whispered in his ear, inspiring a shiver.

  "I have no idea," he answered.

  She looked into his eyes, bit her lip and giggled. "I want to fucking murder you."

  Her arm shot out, and a flashing blade slashed across his jugular. The dopey grin stayed on his face for a moment, then turned to disbelief. His hands went to his neck as he gurgled.

  Fey Voletta pushed him up against the wall and kissed his lips. She sliced open his stomach with another flash of her blade. As he looked down at his wounded abdomen, she reached inside with both hands. She pulled his guts out and threw them at his feet.

  After he flopped onto his face, she wiped her arms on the back of his jacket. This fellow made five. That wouldn't do.

  She decided to pick up the pace.

  Chapter 23

  The Darkness Walks.

  The flame goes out and midnight stalks.

  Shadows grow and bear dark fruit. Dark new seeds grow strong in root.

  The traveler can save not one. The darkness brought can't be undone.

  Leaders have all failed the herd. All is lost in the unknown word.

  Rorid sat in the dark, looking out at the building storm. An occasional spattering of rain blew against the window. A shadow moved up his walkway.

  Rorid jumped up and grabbed the short-sword he kept with the umbrellas. Footsteps thumped across the porch. He flung the door open, ready to kill.

  "What the hell are you doing?" asked a very startled Priole, his hand suspended, about to knock on the door.

  "Ah, hell," Rorid said as he lowered his weapon. "It's only you."

  Priole followed Rorid into the kitchen.

  "I thought you should know," Priole said, "The Steel Jacks are leaving."

  "What?"

  "People say they saw Steel Jacks coming out of the Municipal Building late last night with Haste in custody."

  Rorid threw his hands up. "So who's in charge now? Kale?"

  "Nobody's seen Kale since yesterday afternoon, just before Fitch went off the bridge."

  Rorid shuddered at the memory of Fitch's demise, opened a cupboard, and pulled down a bottle of whiskey. "Fitch kills himself. Haste is arrested. The Steel Jacks are leaving. Nobody can find Kale." He took a pull and passed it to the younger man. "Tell me, what else don't I know?"

  "Well," said Priole, "none of the other magistrates will come out of their houses. Kale's little helpers, Dan Diori and Jaron Haskall, are calling people into the city square. It's like they're trying to start a riot or something."

  "Where are the guardsmen?"

  "All on duty guardsmen are in the square. What are we going to do?" Priole took a swig from the bottle, grimaced, and passed it back.

  Rorid didn't have an answer. So many things were changing, but change wasn't always for the better.

  "Run home and tell your wife to pack a travel bag, just in case. I'll have Drexel do the same. If things go bad tonight, we'll steal a boat and follow the Steel Jacks downstream. Meet me at the square in ten minutes."

  Priole grabbed the bottle from Rorid's hand and took another gulp. He handed it back, saluted, and ran out into the night.

  Rorid pulled on his guardsman uniform and buckled on his weapons.

  "Drexel!" he called. "I need you to wake up, son!"

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Priole waited for Rorid in the square with a shockspear in each hand. Sure enough, the Steel Jacks were busy moving loads of equipment from their headquarters onto a big black barge waiting in the river.

  And, just as Priole said, Dan Diori and Jaron Haskall were stirring up a crowd. They stood on a dais near the Municipal Building, shouting about conspiracies and treason.

  "Somebody should stop those idiots." Priole spun the shockspears around his head in a quick, precise arc.

  "Confronting them could make things worse." Rorid eyed a posse of guardsmen on the dais next to Jaron and Dan. It looked like they'd managed to get themselves some bodyguards.

  "Why are there so many people out in this storm, anyway?" Priole handed a shockspear to Rorid.

  From the riverside, the barge's horn boomed, rattling windows all around the square.

  "Fey Voletta, you are needed at the dock," Non, the leader of the Steel Jacks, spoke through the barge's public address system. People standing close to the speaker clapped hands over their ears. In the distance, dogs howled.

  Rorid and Priole rushed into the crowd. The citizens looked like
frightened children lost in the woods. Not far away, another crowd grew — a mob of angry thugs. Shouts and taunts rose up from the horde.

  "What's the plan, sir?" Priole asked.

  "We're going to keep an eye on this here." Rorid gestured to the ever-growing crowd. "Things turn ugly, and we're on the next boat down river."

  Fey Voletta, covered in blood, trotted from the shadows and through the square. She seemed thoroughly happy, and her laughter trailed along behind her. Rorid watched her scampered down to the docks and into the Steel Jacks' gargantuan riverboat.

  "Now, what do you suppose that's all about?" Rorid asked with a weary frown.

  Priole shrugged.

  Together Rorid and Priole elbowed their way through the crowd.

  "Go to your homes, people!" Rorid called out. "Guardsmen keep the peace in Stagwater!"

  "Move along!" Priole yelled.

  No one paid them any mind. The crowd, still growing, crushed toward the little stage. The throng of people buffeted and jostled Rorid and Priole in their rush to get close to the action. Rorid raised his hand and signaled for Priole to join him outside the churning mass of people. They squared their shoulders and pushed themselves into the clear.

  "Look around, dammit!" Dan Diori shouted from the stage. "They're abandoning us! The creatures Haste and Kale and Fitch said we should trust. They're gone! It's time we people took this city back!"

  Cheers rose up from the crowd. A bottle flew through the air and smashed through a shop window.

  "Take the city back!" Someone yelled.

  Priole's face didn't show any signs of his customary confidence. "This is going to be tough to control."

  "No," Rorid corrected. "This is going to be impossible to control. Especially when these guys have guardsmen on their side. Remember this all very well, Priole." Rorid rubbed a hand over his face and gave a short nod. "This might be your last night in Stagwater."

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  "Thanks for waiting for me, Non." Fey Voletta walked to the end of the dock. "But you could have given me another ten minutes."

  "The time to depart is now," Non buzzed.

  "I only got up to thirty-six." Fey Voletta stuck out her lip in a pout.

  "Thirty-six is an impressive number," said Non. "For a human."

  "I'd hoped for fifty, at least."

  "Do not be hard on yourself, kitten. You did not have much time." Non stepped onto the barge and disappeared below decks.

  Fey Voletta climbed to the upper platform and stared out at the city. She tried to think of one thing about Stagwater that she'd miss, but couldn't.

  The boat vibrated as it started to move. She scanned the riverside for Chuggie. So many lives, so few of them taken. Fey Voletta sighed at the thought of all her missed opportunities, but a sudden spray of river water drenched her and jolted her out of her reverie.

  The barge passed a man standing at the end of a dock. He waved his fists and shouted words Fey Voletta couldn't hear. With a grin, she flung a glinting, spinning blade at him. It curved through the air and embedded itself in his stomach. Screaming, he tripped and fell into the dark, rushing water.

  As she entered the cabin, Non asked, "Missing Stagwater already?"

  "Just saying my final farewell," she said. "Thirty-seven."

  Engines thundered to full power, and the barge sped downriver.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Chuggie heard the Steel Jack barge depart, but he mistook it for factory noise. Bursting through the southern gate at full speed, he was surprised to find it completely unmanned. He didn't dwell upon it, however. His thoughts alternated between his would-be son Olin alone in the woods and the mad witch marching her army to Stagwater. He could almost feel her scarecrows clawing at his heels.

  He flew by the factories and slaughterhouses, then down an alley into Carnietown. "The city is under attack! Arm yourselves!" he yelled at everyone he saw. "Damn you, arm yourselves!"

  No one ran for their weapons. Instead, they ran into their houses and locked their doors. The poor flies just wanted to close their eyes and wait for the spider.

  Running through town, covered in blood and screaming about an army of invading scarecrows, maybe wasn't the best plan he'd ever come up with. He sounded like a madman, but these folks had to listen. He had to make 'em listen, or they were goners. Every last one.

  On he ran, winding through Carnietown as he made his way to the city square. He raced past the crowd gathered in front of the Municipal Building as he made a beeline for the Steel Jacks' headquarters.

  Three stone-faced guardsmen manned the entrance to the Steel Jack building. They brandished hookswords, one in each hand. As Chuggie approached, they fanned apart and held their weapons ready to attack.

  "No need for them swords, boys." Chuggie put his hands up. "I need to see the Steel Jacks."

  None of the guardsman relaxed. One pointed his hooksword straight at Chuggie's face.

  "Steel Jacks are gone. Left town for good," a guard with an eye patch said. His good eye looked like it might be worried about this situation.

  The ranking officer stepped toward Chuggie. "You're the fellow who killed Fitch!"

  "Sorry to waste your time, boys." Chuggie tipped an imaginary hat. "I'll just be on my way." He backed down the steps.

  The guard with the tip of his sword pointed at Chuggie turned to his companion.

  Eye patch shrugged. The face pointer lowered his sword.

  Chuggie decided now was the time to spread his warning to the crowd. He hurried over to them and pushed his way in.

  People drew back and stared as Chuggie plowed through. Their buzz of alarm rippled through the crowd.

  "Now hear this!" Chuggie shoved and elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. "The witch is attacking at midnight! She has an army of scarecrows and the goat-face purse!"

  "He's a madman! He murdered Fitch!" a man in the crowd yelled.

  "Steel Jacks left because of him!" shouted another.

  "He kidnapped Haste!"

  Chuggie had no idea he was so famous in Stagwater. "Listen, damn you! She's coming to kill you all! Arm yourselves!" He yelled as loud as he could.

  Chuggie forced his way to the microphone stand and pulled it down from the stage. As he put the mic up to his mouth, his eyes fell on two familiar faces. "Stinkface Dan and Jaron the Mutt?" His words echoed through the square. "What're you two doin' up there?"

  Dan bent down and snatched the microphone back. "This man! This blood-soaked son of a bitch, right here. He's the one who caused our problems! He killed Magistrate Fitch. Magistrates Kale and Haste are missing. The Steel Jacks up and left us. All this happened since this man got here!"

  "You better start listenin' to me, boy. Your city is about to get attacked!"

  "And don't forget, this crazy man destroyed the north and south gates!" Dan stared into Chuggie's eyes as if throwing out a challenge.

  "You're in trouble now, Stinkface. I'll —." Chuggie lost his train of thought when a trio of guardsmen seized him from behind.

  As they wrestled him onto the platform, one yanked the Bleeding Jaws of Glughu from his hand. Exhaustion and intoxication plowed into him.

  The Big Thirst returned. Chuggie could barely think over its call. How easy it'd be to open up and tear the moisture from this crowd. He'd done it before, and he'd probably do it again. Why not now? "You're already dead!" he slurred. "I should jus' kill you all an' be done with it."

  They'd refused to hear his warnings, and the witch would likely slaughter every last one of them. She'd kill him, too, unless he found the strength to defend himself. If he drank, at least then he'd have a chance….

  Two guardsmen held Chuggie's arms behind his back. The third flung a rope over the goose-necked streetlight that shone down on the platform. He pulled it to test its strength, then wrangled the noose around Chuggie's neck.

  The guardsman who'd confiscated the Bleeding Jaws of Glughu clutched his stomach and fell to his knees. He dropped the dagger betwe
en his feet and retched.

  Dan cast a perplexed look at the puker and yelled into the microphone. "People of Stagwater! A few days ago this man was spying on our town from the hilltop west of the city. The guardsmen in charge didn't arrest him as they should have. They only sent him off into the wilderness. Who knows what he did out there?"

  Dan flung his arms wide, as if embracing the crowd. It looked like the little stinkfaced shit was starting to enjoy himself. "Since this man got here, all kind of trouble came to our town. How much more of this shit are we gonna take? We gotta stop his attacks on our city!" His eyes darted around the crowd.

  Chuggie could see the wheels turning in Dan's head. The kid was playing chess with the crowd, moving them like game pieces. Every word that came from his mouth was crafted to play on their fears. Goddamn Stinkface wanted to control them all!

  "There's a wolf comin' to this butcher shop." Chuggie yanked an arm free and clawed at the noose around his neck. "You're all jus' meat hangin' on the wall!"

  "All right." Dan grinned out at the crowd. "Let's hear what Stagwater's number one enemy has to say for himself."

  The crowd roared its approval.

  Stinkface held the microphone close to Chuggie's bloody mouth.

  "Well? Speak up, dead man." Jaron's long, black hair blew over his stupid, smirking face.

  "I came here to save you all!" Chuggie choked out the words as the guardsman grasped his arm again and tightened the noose. "You don't want my help, s'up to you, but don't you listen to this bastard for one second."

  The crowd hissed and booed and shouted at the guardsmen to get on with the hanging.

  "You don't want to be saved? She can slaughter you all, then. I'll drink your blood from the streets and fight her myself!" Even to his own ears, those words sounded crazy, but he couldn't stop them from pouring out. "You in the black coat. You'll bleed out in that doorway over there." Chuggie tipped his chin toward the door of a nearby shop. "You, in the red hat. Your neck is going to be torn open by a scarecrow with a painted gourd for a head. Some of you will be ripped to pieces. Some of you will burn alive. The lucky ones will die quick, but there'll be goddamn few of those."