Awfully Furmiliar

by Michael J Tresca

  CRACK! Something big and heavy whistled through the air overhead. It landed off to our right, kicking up dirt, and then with a groan a huge tree trunk smashed behind us. Mama Yaga was firing something at us.

  The tub rocked with Lycus' motions. Bracing his feet, he started spinning the pole faster and faster. Will became an orange blur.

  "Goodbye Will!" shouted Lycus. Then he released him with a snap of his arms.

  Will sailed through the air, hooting all the while. I focused on him, pumping my remaining energy reserves into the little pumpkin.

  I felt Will expand. He was free, but by freeing him I had fed his flames. The pumpkin transformed into a ball of flame and then into a massive conflagration, hurtling towards to the makeshift forest I had created.

  The pumpkin struck the forest as Yaga's hut was halfway through. Instantly, all the trees were ablaze. Flames roared, igniting the entire skyline so that it was bright as day. Even from our growing distance, we could feel the heat.

  Yaga's hut, illuminated by the flames, looked like some kind of awful skull. It reared back, forced to retreat before the purifying fire.

  Lycus unwound his shirt from the pole, which was now blackened and burned in a perfect image of Will’s face. He put the shirt back on and resumed poling.

  Fascinated by the wall of fire that roared between the hut and us, I sat on Lycus' head and watched the hut’s retreat as the whole forest was consumed by flames.

  "You should have stayed!" shouted Yaga, her magically enhanced voice echoing across the plains. "You were safer with me!"

  As we poled off into the darkness and the light of the fire faded, I worried that she was right.

  * * *

  Our audience with the Queen was as much a reward as it was an opportunity. For Halewijn, who had been ascending in Venefigrex’s ranks, it was a chance to introduce himself to the royalty and put himself in a position to be Headmaster one day.

  And of course, for me to make a complete fool of myself. Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling very well.

  I was dressed in the most embarrassing outfit Halewijn could find. It was a garish yellow and purple ensemble, complete with a three-pronged hat with jingle bells dangling from it.

  "What am I supposed to do?" I asked, confused.

  Halewijn was much too preoccupied preparing himself for his performance to look at me. I helped apply his powder, which gave his face a pale cast.

  "You are supposed to be FUNNY. You people know how to do that, don’t you?" I didn’t understand what he meant by "you people."

  I carefully applied his eye shadow. "But what should I DO? Dance? Sing?"

  Halewijn sighed. "Hop around a bit. Make funny noises. I don’t care if you fart while standing on your head, but be as hilarious as you can. Then you are to remain very still while I perform. I will not be upstaged by your foolish antics!"

  Halewijn was like that; he could shift from chastising me for not doing something to chastising me for doing it too well before I had done anything at all.

  "Yes, master," I muttered.

  Life under Halewijn was better than working for Black, but that wasn’t saying much. Where Black was manipulative and dangerous if crossed, Halewijn treated me like a dog to be kicked at a whim. And yet he insisted on taking me everywhere. I journeyed with him all throughout Stromgate. He took me with him on patrols. I had become an accessory, like a belt or a hat.

  "Ardel had better be grateful," sneered Halewijn, checking his makeup in the mirror I held up. "With her new plans to ban all magic in the City, she’s lucky any wizard will perform for her at all."

  Ah yes, the ban. It had become a swear word. The wizards didn’t just fear the ban, they loathed the notion of it. To be for or against the ban said so much about a person. A wizard could summarily decide if someone was worthy of his company by where they stood on the idea of a ban. I had witnessed Halewijn snub important officials who felt that the ban was wise. They had good reasons too, a result of both licensed and unlicensed magic practitioners who often mixed alcohol with magic.

  In truth, I suspected the real problem was one of exclusivity: a ban on magic grouped Halewijn with common criminals. Like me. I think Halewijn kept me around to remind himself of his superiority.

  I swayed where I stood. The costume was tight and I felt very warm. Beneath the outfit I was drenched in sweat.

  "What’s wrong with you?" asked Halewijn.

  "I … " I wiped the sweat from my brow. "I’m not feeling well master."

  "You’d best get better right quick," snarled Halewijn.

  "Surely you can find another jester… "

  "NO," shouted Halewijn, rising to his feet. "It must be you. It WILL be you!" He handed me a glass of water. "Drink. All of it."

  I downed the cool liquid. But I was still burning up.

  "Good. Now put on your best face. Nobody likes a sad clown." He poked me in the ribs with one finger. "Dance!"

  I tried to move, but it was pathetic, I knew.

  Halewijn sighed. "Useless. You are a useless, ugly little troll, you know that?"

  I didn’t bother to point out that Halewijn’s insistence that I sleep near a draft chimney was probably responsible for me taking ill.

  A servant knocked at the door.

  "Yes?"

  "The Queen is ready for your performance."

  Halewijn grabbed hold of my hat and dragged me behind him. "Let’s go."

  We navigated endless halls of pillars and artwork. I only noticed the checkered floors, struggling to keep up. Everything seemed far away. I was floating somewhere inside my own skin. And yet what I could feel of my skin hurt.

  We stopped at a large set of double doors. I noticed the floor had changed to red carpet. I was barefoot, as befit a lowly jester like myself.

  The servant nodded to the guards. The doors pushed open.

  We faced an array of nobles, all staring at us, lined up along two long tables of the great hall. At the far end of one table was the Queen herself, though she was barely identifiable.

  Queen Ardel was attired regally but practically, as befit someone who sat on a throne all day. It struck me that she was also painfully thin, her lips pinched and her eyes hard. She was a Queen who had lived through the death of her husband and numerous assassination attempts. She had a legacy as a warrior. Citizens whispered that she was a Warrior Queen, chosen by the Hyrtstone because she was a blood relative to the king and no other heir could be found. And here she was, failing to produce her own heir, and the Hyrtstone was missing.

  I couldn’t help but notice we weren’t very close to her. She was far enough away that it would require shouting if we were to communicate, although that didn’t hold true for the nobles. I assumed it was for security purposes.

  "Good evening, your majesty," said Halewijn, bowing deeply. He nudged me and I bowed as well. The world spun as my head neared the ground; I almost couldn’t get back up.

  "I and my good servant are here to entertain and amaze you. I hope you will find our performance most pleasurable, that we may continue to live in your inestimable good graces."

  Ardel inclined her head. Taking that as a gesture to continue, Halewijn began the act.

  Lighting a slim torch, he twirled it about. "This is indeed real fire. Fool, show her!"

  I blinked. Was he talking to me? Halewijn apparently wasn’t going to use my real name anymore.

  I edged closer. The nobles laughed at my obvious discomfort.

  "Oh come now," said Halewijn. "Have you not been my faithful servant for the past… " he did a quick calculation, "past few minutes?"

  I bobbed my head and the jingle bells tinkled for comedic effect. The nobles laughed again.

  "Then you can certainly trust me. Now put your hand over the flames."

  I really didn’t want to. The blue flame of the torch looked really hot. I placed my hand near it. I hoped that Halewijn had conjured up a magical flame that looked hot but wasn’t. But even if he hadn’t, I didn’t dare d
isrupt his act.

  Trembling, I put my hand near the flame. To my surprise it WAS hot.

  I yelped and drew back my hand. The audience reacted with oohs and aahs. Heat rose in my face. Maybe it was the fever or the humiliation, but I was angry. That’s right, the fool felt pain. Was it really that funny?

  Nobody cared.

  "I don’t think our audience believes the flame is real, Fool. Please, let’s pass the torch around."

  He handed me the flaming torch. I was sweating profusely now, enough that I had to wipe my face with the back of my hand. What I didn’t realize was that my hat, which sagged over my eyes, got in the way.

  There was a sudden series of whacks on my head. "Careful fool!" shouted Halewijn. "That torch is hot!"

  I didn’t realize that my hat had caught on fire. I whacked at my head to put out the flames.

  The crowd roared, slapping tables and chortling at my plight. Had Halewijn planned that?

  I handed the torch to the first noble, and one by one they passed it down, although it would of course never reach the Queen.

  "Is it hot?" the Queen asked the noble nearest her, which was a good thirty feet away. She seemed bored.

  "Yes, your majesty, it is indeed," he said.

  Satisfied, the last noble handed the torch back to me. I handed it back to Halewijn.

  He twirled the torch around again. And then, sticking his tongue out far, he placed the burning torch in his mouth and extinguished it.

  The crowd applauded. The Queen, notably, did not.

  I was confused. I thought Halewijn was a wizard, not a mere magician. What he did was a trick; an entertaining trick, certainly, and one that took a certain level of skill. But it was not actual wizardry.

  "And for my next spell," Halewijn drew a thin bladed skewer. "I will pierce my own arm with this skewer!"

  The guards leaned forward, alert. It was a weapon, after all, even if it were only a tiny blade. I got the distinct impression Halewijn had snuck it past them. Still, the Queen appeared curious.

  "Fool!" shouted Halewijn. This time I knew whom he was addressing. "Test the edge of this please. Is it sharp?"

  I gingerly touched the edge. It was sharp. "Yes, master."

  "Please," said Halewijn, "let our distinguishing and noble guests see for themselves."

  Again I passed the skewer around. Oddly, the guards found the skewer more threatening than the flames, and one of them inserted himself between the closest noble and the Queen. It was the City Marshal.

  "Is it sharp?" asked the Queen.

  The Marshal took off his glove and tapped the edge of the blade. "It is indeed, your majesty."

  He personally handed it back to Halewijn, passing by me.

  "I said no blades," the Marshal hissed through his teeth, for only Halewijn’s ears.

  "Rest assured," he responded, "the only person who will be harmed by this skewer is me."

  Halewijn rolled up his sleeve. The Marshal took a few steps back, but he did not retreat to his original position against the wall. He kept his hand on the hilt of his blade.

  After a few mock tries, Halewijn plunged the skewer through his forearm. It protruded out the other side.

  The nobles gasped. One noble lady grew faint as Halewijn wiggled the skewer back and forth and a thin trickle of blood dripped from the two wounds.

  "I am indeed pierced, but thanks to my magic, I am able to resist the pain," said Halewijn.

  Halewijn marched slowly about the room so that all the nobles could inspect it. When he came near the Queen, the Marshal stood in front of him, arms crossed.

  "That’s close enough," he said.

  Halewijn shrugged. The Queen, whose view of Halewijn was surely blocked by the Marshal, didn’t react.

  "I’ve seen far worse wounds," said the Marshal. "And I’ve seen more honorable men bear it without so much as a squeak."

  The Queen leaned her cheek on one palm. "It seems you are not impressing our noble Marshal," she said in a deep, authoritative voice. "Wizard Halewijn, have you something else?"

  Halewijn’s eyes glittered. "I do indeed, your majesty."

  He whipped the skewer out of his arm without any fanfare and took his position at the center of the grand hall. I could tell he was angry; the skewer’s removal would have normally been made with as much fanfare as its insertion.

  Halewijn whirled, and the rage that clouded his features was gone as he faced the Queen once more. "For my next act, I will show you true magic!" He held up one finger, testing the air.

  After a moment, the Queen asked. "Are you waiting for something?"

  "I am merely determining that the air is still, your majesty, for my very survival depends on it during this act. I will move the very wind itself, and I want there to be no doubt about the authenticity of what happens next. Please, confirm for yourself."

  Some of the nobles licked their fingers and held it up to the air, looking like complete idiots as they attempted to detect the wind currents. In such a large room, a current was impossible to avoid.

  The Marshal held his own finger up, having abandoned his gloves. "I’m afraid there is indeed a wind—" he began. Then he choked up.

  "An ill-favored wind indeed," muttered Halewijn, only I could hear.

  One by one, the nobles who licked their fingers gagged, grabbing at their throats.

  "Poison!" croaked the Marshal.

  The other guards leaped forward, weapons at the ready.

  Halewijn turned on me. "You! You gave them the skewer! You would poison the Queen?"

  "What?" I could barely see straight. "I didn’t do anything!"

  "Oh, but I beg to differ." He pointed at me, and something in my hat burst into flames. "Look, the wizard even now threatens to strike!" roared Halewijn. "Your majesty, stand back!"

  The flames were pyrotechnics! I was being set up! I couldn’t think straight—I still felt sick. Then it occurred to me: I wasn’t sick with a head cold! I had also been poisoned! It must have happened when I touched Halewijn’s torches and skewers. The nobles who were foolish enough to prick their fingers with the skewer went down first. Who was the fool now?

  The guard crowded in front of the Queen, ushering her out of the room, but she stopped them. "Wait," she said. "I want to see how this is resolved."

  "Your sorcery is great, but not as great as mine!" shouted Halewijn theatrically. The surviving nobles looked on, uncertain if it was all an act. "You, despicable cur, are not worthy of the Queen’s gaze, not worthy of the air she breathes, not worthy to continue one more heartbeat upon this earth! But death is too good for you! You, foul assassin, shall suffer for your betrayal in a form most fitting your actions. I shall turn you into the rat that you truly are!"

  The guards froze in their tracks, uncertain as to how to proceed against the wizards in their midst. Nobles screamed and gurgled all around them.

  Halewijn chanted some words. Energy drained out of me. The world spun. What was happening?

  I was shrinking, contracting, turning in on myself. The color went out of the world, sound roared, and the floor rushed at me as I fell down on all fours. My spine was ablaze and I tried to scream, but only a squeak came out.

  * * *

  I woke up when we came upon the Porro River the next day.

  "Yaga must have been heading south," said Lycus. "Towards Stromgate."

  In the distance, across the river, we could make out the spires of Stromgate. It was still a long way off.

  We had decided to hold onto the tub and pole until we reached the river, and that foresight was rewarded as Lycus poled us into the water. The tub sank a bit into the surface of the river, but much less than a heavy tub should. The current wasn't too powerful, so Lycus poled us across.

  I thought about the trials of getting across the Porro last time. As a lone rat, it was nigh insurmountable. But with my trusty human sidekick, fording a river was much easier.

  "Scrap?" asked Lycus. He had been brooding ever since we escaped Yag
a's clutches.

  "Yeah?"

  "I've been thinking about Vasilissa."

  "Uh huh."

  "And…well, I'm worried about her."

  I knew where this was going. "Vasilissa made her choice. She chose to stay behind."

  "I know," said Lycus, dipping the pole into the Porro River. "But I feel like she WANTED to go with us."

  "I'm sure Yaga won't eat her," I said, not entirely confident. "She's too valuable."

  "I know," said Lycus. "But still. She was confused. It's not easy changing from three people to one person in a day."

  "Or from a human to a rat," I reminded him.

  "Or being trapped in a cave for years," Lycus reminded me back. Touché.

  "Yaga needs her. She was originally going to replace Vasilissa with…" I didn't think before I blurted it out, "…me."

  Lycus gave me a hard look. Then he bit his lip and went back to poling. We drifted on in silence, the rush of the river the only sound for our thoughts.

  "I don't want you to think you should have stayed there," Lycus finally blurted out. "You shouldn't have, and I'm glad we escaped. But it's because of us that Vasilissa is trapped with Yaga now. "

  He was right. We had manipulated Vasilissa's situation to free ourselves, and what did she get in exchange? A lifetime of servitude.

  We reached the dock with a thump. Lycus carefully lifted me off his head and placed me onto the dock.

  Lycus didn't step out of the tub. I could tell by his eyes that he had already made up his mind. "You're not coming with me, are you?"

  Lycus shook his head. "Here. I weaved this for you."

  Lycus took a little black harness made of wool out of his pocket. He shrugged it on over my body. It fit perfectly.

  "This is excellent craftsmanship!" I exclaimed, touched by his gift.

  Lycus tucked the magical key onto the pouch on my back. "I had a great teacher." He patted the key on my back. "Keep it safe."

  "And what about you?"

  "I have to find Vasilissa, Scrap. She saved my life."