The Rose Petal Thief

by Sylvan Scott

The sun shone warmly amongst the evergreens, its rays drifting down from between thin birch branches high above. The forest path was barely an animal track, but it felt right to Anthony. Here and there, so infrequently that he almost gave up pursuit, he’d catch a whiff of roses or see scattered petals on the forest floor. But as long as the thief kept his coat, he had an edge. Not only had it been a gift from his parents when he’d first gone off to college but it had kept him warm on his last, great adventure in NeverEarth.

  As Wiste had taught him, he focused on his heartstrings; in his mind’s eye way towards the object of his desires became clearer. The World Labyrinth responded to strong emotions with subtle hints and clues as to which way to go. He felt rather than saw the way. When he’d first done it, as a child, it had been like stumbling around in the dark. Today, the path was clear as crystal.

  “This … is amazing.”

  Anthony glanced back at Karl and shook his head. Hockey stick slung over one shoulder, the newcomer was looking around like a tourist. He regretted bringing Karl. His behavior was getting annoying. NeverEarth was Anthony’s childhood place; his world to love, explore, and defend. To have some “newbie” in it—even someone he’d been intimate with—felt wrong.

  The tangle of emotions made him temporarily lose the track. He stopped and tried to re-focus on his memories of the coat and his last adventure.

  “You said that time flows differently, here; that we’ll be gone only a fraction of the time that we think is passing?”

  “About three days pass here for every one at home.”

  Karl checked his watch. “We’ve been walking for an hour so, what, twenty minutes has gone by back in the real world?”

  Anthony clenched his eyes shut. “This is a real world, you know; it has a name.”

  “Yeah, ‘NeverEarth’; it’s like something out of a kid’s book.”

  “It’s called ‘Kellen’; or at least the biggest kingdom in it, is. I dubbed it ‘NeverEarth’ when I was eight.” He tried to keep his focus and ignore his rising annoyance. He felt so exposed by Karl’s presence. Him being here made this excursion feel more intimate; more exposed.

  Karl looked around. “Neat name.”

  “You sure you don’t have any memories of it?”

  Karl shook his head. “None. But maybe I spent my childhood in some other magical world.” He sounded glib. “Maybe there’s a land with dragons in it where I was a dragon-slayer!”

  “There are dragons here,” Anthony said. “When I first arrived, I had to face one.” Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on his most recent trip:  when he’d hiked through the snow, hunched down in his winter coat. He thought of the snow and his friend, Wiste, as they braved the magical challenges of his last adventure. Anthony looked about and got the impression that the way to the left of an ancient birch might lead somewhere promising. “Let’s keep moving,” he said. Anthony trusted his heartstrings.

  “Lead on, boss.”

  Anthony’s last boyfriend had needed a lot of attention. He’d been consistently wide-eyed; always getting his emotions bruised. Now, traveling with the first guy he’d been with since, Anthony was nervous. It felt like Reynold all over, again. He tried not to think of it that way:  Karl was a grown man and could take care of himself. Reynold had been a party boy with little on his mind but sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. Karl wasn’t like that. Still, by bringing him here, wasn’t that making him as reliant upon Anthony as Reynold had been?

  He regretted bringing him. Even if Karl had never been to another world, had it influence and brighten his life in some way, it wasn’t like he would remember any of this once they returned. So, really, after it was all over would this trip really mean anything? Increasingly, his decision seemed like a horrible idea.

  Morning stretched on. Their conversations became increasingly sparse. Eventually Karl seemed to get the hint and stopped asking Anthony about his childhood adventures. By noon he’d even stopped commenting on the landscape. By that time, though, the terrain was beginning to look familiar even if Anthony couldn’t exactly place where they were. Karl was just starting to speak up again when a loud crack erupted from the branches, above.

  Dropping out of the trees landed a red-furred, two-foot-tall squirrel dressed in clothes and wielding a thick dagger.

  “Trespassers!” the animal shouted. “Don’t take another step!”

  Despite his returned memories, Anthony was just as dumbstruck as Karl. The squirrel flicked its tail back and forth in an irritated series of jerks. He wore a red vest with brass buttons on his cuffs, collar, and brown pants.

  “I said—”

  “It’s a squirrel,” Karl interrupted. His voice didn’t sound the least terrified or concerned. “It’s a talking, knee-high squirrel!”

  Anthony clenched his teeth. “Yes, it is; now—”

  “Yes, I am a squirrel,” the creature said, “and you’ll do well to step back down that path you came from.” The creature’s demanding tone sounded less sure than his initial shout.

  Anthony raised his hands. “You’ll have to excuse my companion, Mister—”

  “The name’s Quissit and that’s all you need to know other than the fact I’m holding a blade. What part of ‘step back’ don’t you understand?” He prodded the knife into the air. “You’re on my land, on my clan’s land, and are not welcome!”

  “Oh, I wish I had my camera!”

  Anthony ignored Karl’s statement. He’d met NeverEarth squirrels before. They were largely provincial, put family above all else, and had served good King Alimonde faithfully in the Underbrush Wars. “Mister Quissit,” he said, “we are only passing through. We’re on the trail of a small thief. Her path—”

  The squirrel looked indignant. “My people would not steal from a … from a...” He trailed off, cocking his head. “What are you, anyway? You’re not dressed like royals.”

  “We’re human,” Karl said.

  “Mortals,” Anthony clarified.

  The squirrel’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

  Both men nodded.

  “Is one of you, uh, does one of you know the name ‘Tony of Delleroe’?”

  Karl looked over. “Tony of Delleroe?”

  Anthony looked embarrassed but bowed, slightly. “That’s me.”

  “You’re the Champion Knight of Good King Alimonde?” The small creature’s eyes grew wide. “I’d heard you’d returned; that you’d … grown up,” Quissit said. Dubiousness tinged his voice but his dagger lowered only a little. “And who’s this?”

  Before Anthony could answer, Karl stepped forward and extended his hand.

  “My name is Karl. Karl—”

  “He’s my boyfriend!” Anthony quickly interrupted. Realizing what he’d said, he blushed. “Just … just call him ‘Karl’. He has no title.”

  Karl glanced at Anthony, surprised, but kept quiet.

  Quissit looked from one to the other before sheathing his weapon. With a wary saunter, tail still twitching, he stepped up to Karl and took the man’s hand in his own, small paw. “A pleasure.” He turned and shook Anthony’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you both.” His voice didn’t sound pleased but it also didn’t sound angry or threatening any more. “You say you are pursuing a thief?”

  Anthony nodded. “Smaller than us but not a squirrel.” He then quickly told Quissit the full story.

  “Strange; very strange,” Quissit mused when they’d finished. “I’ve seen a person such as you describe. I don’t know if it was a ‘she’ but I smelled flowers and spied a cloaked figure twice my height dashing down that trail.” He pointed in a direction past a large, gnarled tree. “Couldn’t have been more than two hours ago. I’d have given chase and run her off my land, but I was in the middle of a gather and had to hide my stash before confronting the trespasser.”

  “A ‘gather’?” Karl asked.

  Quissit drew himself up to his full two-foot-two. “A gather,” he clarified. “It’s summer and the woods are full of mushroom
s and ground cherries!”

  “They’re gatherers,” Anthony explained. “Some of the best in the world; certainly the best trackers you’ll find in forest lands.”

  Quissit looked proud at Anthony’s assessment and nodded. “I would be honored to assist you, Tony of Delleroe. If it is your quest to track down the thief who invaded your home, I would be honored to help.”

  Anthony chewed his lip. “Well, I don’t—”

  “We’d be happy to have you,” Karl interrupted. He was smiling from ear to ear.

  Anthony shot him a glance but the damage was done. Quissit looked pleased.

  “Excellent!” Quissit said. “I am honored.”

  “Yeah, so are we,” Anthony intoned.

  “Wait here; I’ll send word to my village and then help you track your thief!” With that, he turned and scampered off.

  “Okay, Karl:  not cool!”

  “What?”

  “Now we have to watch over him; take care of him! I don’t need another...” He trailed off.

  “Another what?” Karl’s voice had assumed a pointed quality.

  Anthony sighed. “I don’t need someone else to look out for; not now. This was supposed to be—”

  “This wasn’t ‘supposed’ to happen at all. That thief we’re following made it happen. And, yeah, I’m here, too. Get used to it!”

  Anthony scowled. “There are things you don’t know; things you can get into trouble by not knowing.”

  “Then tell me!” Karl put his hands on Anthony’s shoulders and squeezed, lightly. “C’mon, we’ve been together for almost two weeks. You can trust me.”

  “Trust means a lot more, here,” he said. He glanced after Quissit. He had no idea how he’d let himself lose control of the situation so quickly. “Okay, for one, you can’t just go telling people your full name. It was the first thing I learned when I came here.”

  “But the squirrel knew who you were:  Anthony Delleroe.”

  “He knows me as ‘Tony of Delleroe’; not the same thing. That’s a title:  not a name. And besides, no one here knows my middle name.” He spread his arms wide. “In NeverEarth, names have power. Years ago, an exiled royal called The Amber Witch kidnapped the king in order to force him to reveal his full, true name in order to become the power behind the throne. I had to rescue him before she broke his will with her potions and spells.” He shook his head. “In NeverEarth, you keep as much of your name a secret as you can. It’s safer that way. Your full, true name is a doorway into the deepest part of your soul.”

  Karl mulled it over for a bit before nodding.

  “So, what is your middle name?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your middle name:  what is it?”

  “Weren’t you listening? Why would I ever tell—?”

  “I’m not a witch, Anthony. I wouldn’t know how to cast a spell if I tried. And besides, as your ‘boyfriend’, don’t you think I should know?”

  He blushed. “Look, I only called you that because I was flustered; you were about to tell Quissit your name and...” He trailed off, shaking his head. Karl smiled at his flustered explanation. Anthony frowned and looked around for a moment to ensure they were truly alone. Then, he whispered in Karl’s ear. Karl’s chuckled.

  “Seriously?”

  Anthony nodded.

  “Well, as middle names go it’s not that bad; mine’s ‘King’; after Martin Luther.”

  “Karl King Prince?”

  Karl chuckled, nodding. “It’s a recipe for comedy.”

  Anthony smiled, despite himself. Their simple exchange lightened the mood. Everyone hated their middle name. It was a cosmic law. Talking about it, here in this otherworldly forest of magic, made things a bit more … ordinary.

  “Okay, so, we wait here for Quissit to return and then resume our quest, right?”

  Anthony nodded.

  “And then we resume our quest,” he confirmed.