A Plague of Wizards

by Wesley Allison

  “I have to tell you that I’m feeling quite conflicted about you,” Hero told Bryony.

  “Oh?”

  “Me too,” added Honor.

  “You see, I’ve just met you,” continued Hero, “but I already like you. And I’m fairly sure that it’s my duty to hate you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You see I’m Senta’s oldest and dearest friend.”

  “And her mother,” said Bryony.

  “No. Well, yes. I didn’t mean my Senta. I meant yours, or rather Mr. Baxter’s.”

  “The scary one,” added Honor.

  “Oh, I see.” Bryony turned to Honor. “Is that why you feel conflicted too?”

  “No. It’s because I think you’re going to be killed when she comes back.”

  “But she’s dead.”

  “No,” said Hero. “No, she isn’t.”

  “No,” said Honor. “No, no… no.”

  Bryony stopped to look in the window of the cobbler shop, and then quickly rejoined the other two women.

  “I admire your loyalty to your friend, but Mr. Baxter searched for her. He searched far beyond what anyone could have expected of him.”

  “Yes, we know,” said Honor, cringing slightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “We’re sorry for… for what it did to him. But Senta isn’t dead. She can’t be.”

  “We must agree to disagree,” said Bryony, sticking her nose in the air in such a way as to indicate the discussion was over.

  They arrived at the park, a broad swath of green grass dotted with willow and maple trees, and featuring a truly amazing redwood tree right in its center. A small wooden sign near the walk proclaimed the grounds Sir Radley Staff Memorial Park.

  “Over this way,” said Hero. “There’s a spot just under that maple where we can keep an eye on the children.”

  Beneath the maple was a large area protected from the sun. Though two other women, seated on a blanket, already occupied part of the shady ground, there was plenty of room for another dozen. Hero spread out her own blanket and the three women sat down. Bryony glanced down to see that the hem of Honor’s dress had slipped up a bit. She was shocked to find that the exposed leg was made of wood. As soon as she saw her looking, Honor quickly smoothed the dress back down.

  Bryony turned in awe toward the giant redwood that was the centerpiece of the park. It had to be five hundred feet tall and was nearly as big around at the base as her house. As amazing as it was naturally, craftsmen had turned it into a magical wonderland for children. Winding up around the great trunk from the ground was a spiral staircase leading to dozens of platforms sitting on the lower branches. From these platforms extended rope ladders, sliding poles, and swings. There were even two rooms carved directly into the tree’s trunk.

  “How marvelous! It makes me wish I was age twelve again.”

  Hero began removing wrapped packages of food from her basket.

  “Brech egg?” she offered.

  “Thank you,” said Bryony, accepting the boiled egg, wrapped in sausage and breadcrumbs. “But I don’t want to take food from your children’s mouths.”

  “Believe me, she has enough food for ten children,” said Honor.

  “Better too much than not enough,” said Hero, sagely. She stopped to wave to her children calling from the tree, and then returned to unwrap sausages and a large bowl of potato salad.

  Suddenly, there was a loud bang, like a shotgun blast. Everyone looked to see a man standing in front of the great redwood, his hands raised.

  “Attention everyone! I am Celerine the Great, a wizard of tremendous power, and this area now belongs to me!”

  “The children,” Hero hissed, starting to get up.

  Honor restrained her. “Wait.”

  “Listen to every word I say, if you want to leave here with your miserable lives!” continued Celerine. “You will all…”

  He was interrupted when a dragon the size of trolley car landed with a whomp next to him. The only other noise the wizard made was a sort of grunt as all of his air left him, when the dragon grabbed him in its scaly fist.

  “Did he say his name was Celery?” asked the dragon, “because I am in the mood for a salad.”

  “Don’t eat him in front of the children!” screamed Hero.

  “I’ve never eaten a human being… as far as you know… Hero or Honor or Hertzel. Honestly, you all look alike to me. Is that my dear new friend Bryony? How are you today?”

  “I’m lovely. Thank you, Zoey. And yourself?”

  “Hungry,” the dragon growled, but then it’s voice returned to its natural register. “Well, Ta!”

  Then suddenly it was gone—shot into the air. The only trace it left behind was one of Celerine’s shoes, which came tumbling down from the sky some thirty seconds later.

  Honor looked at Bryony and shrugged. “Maybe you won’t be killed after all.”

  * * * * *

  Maro and Sherree McCoort sat across from one another at a cozy table in Bonne Nourriture. A lizzie waiter arrived with open bottle of wine and poured a sample for the gentleman. He took a sip and nodded. The lizzie filled both of their glasses and stepped away.

  “This is a lovely treat,” said Sherree. “I didn’t think we would be able to go out as often, since our livelihood in the form of the publishing house and newspaper is gone.”

  “That’s all being taken care of,” said Maro, waving his hand dismissively. “The colony can’t do without a newspaper. The banks have to give us the loans we need to get going again. Until then, we’ve got your family’s money.”

  His wife frowned, but didn’t say anything else on the subject.

  The human waiter, a rather oily-looking Mirsannan arrived at the table. “And what would monsieur and madam like to start out with?”

  “We will have the escargot in garlic butter.”

  “Very good, monsieur.”

  “Why do we always have to start our meal with escargot?” pouted Sherree, when the waiter had gone. “I would like to try the crepes. Everyone says they’re wonderful.”

  “But escargot is the best appetizer they have. It’s three marks fifty more than the crepes, so it has to be better. I’ll tell you what. You pick our main course.”

  “All right. I think we should have seared xiphactinus with crabmeat in sherry sauce.”

  “Are you sure? The beef is one mark fifty more. It’s probably better.”

  “Oh, no! I’m not eating Beef Dechantagne!”

  “But they don’t call it that here,” he said. “It’s just boeuf en crute.”

  “I don’t care,” she pouted. “Those people are just too full of themselves, without going and naming food after them too.”

  The couple ate their dinner of fish with crabmeat and both enjoyed it. For pudding, they had Mirsannan ice cream topped with local pineapple. With a friendly handshake for the maître-de, a clandestine five mark banknote in his palm, Mr. McCoort guided his wife out of the restaurant and down the walkway to where his bright yellow Sawyer and Sons steam carriage waited. Helping her into the passenger seat, he started to step around to the driver’s side.

  “Bechnoth uuthanum pestor paj,” said a voice from the darkness.

  Bright blue light engulfed Maro McCoort and within seconds, his body was frozen solid. Sherree screamed.

  “Shut your yap, girl,” growled a man stepping out of the darkness.

  He was tall and thin. Dressed in a suit and bowler hat, he seemed completely unremarkable, unlike the wizards who had been strutting around town. But his black eyes were filled with menace. He climbed up into the seat next to the woman.

  “You can get out and take care of your fellow, or you can take a ride with me.”

  Sherree jumped out of the car and hurried around to stand by her husband. With a laugh, the man slammed his foot down on the forward accelerator. Then he frowned as the vehicle rolled a few feet. The steam cock had not been set.

  “Premba uuthanum tachthna,” he
growled, placing his hand on the dash. The vehicle lurched forward and raced away into the darkness.

  * * * * *

  “Kafira damn it!” shouted Saba Colbshallow, as he looked around at the assembled police constables. “In the entire history of Port Dechantagne until this month, we’ve had exactly one car stolen, and that was a childish prank by the Charmley brothers. Now, this month, sixteen stolen cars.”

  “That’s not the worst of it. Is it chief?” asked Gorman in his new sergeant’s uniform. “We’ve got dozens of robberies and assaults, half a dozen instances of rape—and those are just the ones reported—and at least five murders, not counting our own losses.”

  “And a dragon ate somebody,” said Brimley. “That’s murder, isn’t it?”

  “I think that was justifiable homicide,” said Dodge, “seeing it was one of those that took out Hill and Gubler.”

  “Yes,” said Saba. “Any of these wizards gets killed by a local or a dragon or whatever, we’re not wasting time investigating. Still, we’re the police. People shouldn’t have to take the law into their own hands. If we lose control of the law, then order is going right after it.”

  The fifteen men, all that remained of the Port Dechantagne police force, as one, looked down at their feet, their shoulders slumped.

  “Sounds like we need a plan!”

  All heads turned toward to see a man step into the room. He was big, six foot four and heavy set, and put one in mind of a walking, talking brick wall.

  “Sergeant Shrubb!” shouted several of the constables, excitedly.

  “No sergeant, just Shrubb,” he said.

  “Get tired of raising pigs?” asked Saba.

  “I like to go where I’m needed. Dot and the boys can take care of the farm for a few days.”

  “That’s good,” said Saba. “I just happen to have a plan and I think you’re just the man to carry it out.”

  “Outstanding. I’ve been doing a little planning myself.” Shrubb reached into his pocket and pulled out two items made of leather. “I gave this little project to Dot’s sister, as she’s out of work on account of her shop burning to the ground.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a gag and a special pair of gloves that limit finger movement. Once you put the cuffs on, the gloves are locked on too. You’re going to need both of these if you plan on keeping wizards in our jail.”

  * * * * *

  Lord Dechantagne sat in his study and watched his guest sip tea. He had to serve it himself, as the lizzies had all gone suspiciously missing. As she brought the cup gracefully to her lips, he let his eyes wander over her form. She was impeccably dressed and coifed, though her hair was a strange salmon-pink color. Her long strait nose and pointy chin gave her a patrician air that her full lips didn’t quite dispel. She raised her thick eyebrows above her darkened spectacles as she watched him watch her.

  “Do you find me attractive, My Lord?”

  “I do,” he said. “But I find it disconcerting how much older you look than me, when I happen to know you’re a bit younger.

  “I find you attractive too, but then I have an uncontrollable predisposition toward wealth.”

  “I am very wealthy,” he said.

  She made a purring noise deep in her chest.

  “Still, I’m not want to just give away my money. We had an agreement, but I mean… one wizard? Surely that’s not worth what you’re asking from me.”

  “No, of course not. You will be satisfied with my performance, but in the meantime, I have expenses.”

  “Very well.” He retrieved his wallet from his breast pocket and opened it to remove ten bills of large denomination. He paused. “Did you really eat him?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No. At least it doesn’t matter to anyone what happened to him. But still, I am alone in a room with a suspected man eater.”

  She set her teacup in the end table, and then removed her bottom from her seat, without really standing up, and leaned over until she was almost in his lap. She put her mouth close to his ear.

  “Enjoy the thrill.”

  Then she pulled the banknotes from his hand, stood up, and gracefully glided out of the room.

  Lord Dechantagne let out a long sigh.

  Chapter Eleven: The Doll

  The great battleship H.M.S. Minotaur rested on the smooth waters of Crescent Bay. Lieutenant Baxter ordered the men to lower a launch over the port side, and then he climbed down into it and supervised as it was loaded with weapons and equipment. The rest of the sailors boarded and took their positions. They rowed a single stroke that took them to the temporary staircase set up near the bow. One of the men hissed and pointed as the back of a great underwater creature slid above the glasslike surface not far from them, but it didn’t return.

  After about five minutes, a dozen mercenary soldiers in khaki made their way down the stairs, rifles slung over their backs. They took their places and waited. Then Augustus P. Dechantagne and his older brother Terrence stepped down into the boat. Baxter started to order the men to row, but Terrence Dechantagne raised his hand.

  “Wait.”

  A minute later, Zurfina the Magnificent descended the stairs like a goddess descending from on high. Her black dress left little to the imagination, especially to those in the boat below. Following behind her, dressed almost identically was her nine-year-old apprentice, Senta, with the tiny steel dragon wrapped around her shoulders. Once Zurfina and Senta had stepped into the launch, the boat was pushed away from the ship, and the sailors lowered their oars into the water.

  None of the men spoke as they traversed the bay and approached the shore. The honking of the iguanodons could be heard in the distance, along with an occasional loud bellowing roar.

  “Gawp,” said the dragon.

  It didn’t take long for the boat to reach the shore, a twenty-foot wide band of rocks and gravel separating the water from the thick redwood forest. The sailors raised their oars straight up and Captain Dechantagne and several of the soldiers jumped out and pulled the boat up onto the gravel. Then everyone else climbed out onto land.

  “What do you think, Baxter?” asked Augie Dechantagne. “This looks like a good place for a dock right here. We can use the wood growing all around, build the dock and extend it straight out into the water thirty or forty feet, and build a couple of warehouses right up here.

  “We’ll have to check the depth, but it seems fine,” replied Baxter.

  Leaving six of the sailors with the boat, the rest of the party moved past the shore and into the woods. The redwoods were enormous. Some of them were twenty feet or more in diameter at the base. Baxter wondered just how many pieces of furniture could be cut from a single tree. It wouldn’t take many of them to construct a dock.

  Once away from the shoreline, the land rose up quickly.

  “It’s hard to tell with all these trees, but it looks as though the initial survey was right on,” said Augie. “This ridge runs right out on the peninsula. We can build the lighthouse at the tip, and the fort on that hill to the right.”

  “The peninsula is what, about four miles long and a mile wide?” asked Terrence.

  “Yes, though there is a narrow spot in the middle of the peninsula, where it’s only as wide as the ridge, maybe a half a mile.”

  “How far is the river?”

  “About six miles east.”

  “Why not build closer to the river,” wondered Baxter.

  “The Manzanian isn’t like the Thiss or the Green River in Mallontah. It’s not navigable even around the mouth. Twelve miles upstream you find the first of a half dozen known cataracts. In the short term at least, this little bay will be much more valuable to the colony than the river would be. There are several small streams around here for water and we can pipe in more as needed.”

  When they had walked up a few hundred feet, the land flattened out and opened into a clearing. Here was a great group of iguanodons, with several members of another species of din
osaur meandering along with them. This was a low, heavily built, mottled brown creature about twenty feet long, covered with thick plates of boney armor. Its beaked head resembled a horned lizard, with short, thick horns arranged around its face. At the end of its long tail, it sported an enormous two-lobed club.

  “I wonder what Mormont called this one,” wondered Captain Dechantagne. “Clubadon?”

  “It’s called an ankylosaurus,” said Augie.

  His brother looked at him in surprise.

  “I’ve been here before, remember? I wonder if it could be domesticated? I’ll bet that thing could pull a pretty heavily laden wagon.”

  Captain Dechantagne shrugged, then stopped and pointed.

  At the far end of the clearing, the foliage parted and a massive red face pushed its way into the open. The rest of a large blocky head followed it, twenty-five feet above the ground. Slowly the entire creature emerged from the woods. Two tiny forearms dangled uselessly, but two giant, clawed hind feet carried the beast, a great black body, balanced at one end by the enormous head and at the other end by a long, sweeping tail. It gave an awful roar and rushed forward to take a horrendous bite out of the back of the closest iguanodon. The injured creature honked balefully and ran several steps, but it was wounded so grievously that it sank to the ground from shock and blood loss. The reptilian tyrant strode over to its victim and administered a killing bite.

  “Bloody hell,” said Augie.

  The steel dragon suddenly launched itself into the air. The chain attaching it to the little girl pulled taut and jerked her off her feet. As she fell to the ground on her knees, a weak link in the chain parted, sending the dragon flying up toward the trees in the general direction from which they had come. The girl jumped to her feet and took off running after her wayward charge.