Helga: Out of Hedgelands (Wood Cow Chronicles, #1)

Helga: Out of Hedgelands (Wood Cow Chronicles, #1) Page 6

by Rick Johnson

PARTIES ARE THE SCOURGE OF SLAVERS AND THEIR KIND! SCHNORKT! SCHZZORKT! OH, I REALLY NEED ANOTHER CRAB—ANYBODY SEEN A CRAB—OH, SO CRUNCHY ON THE OUTSIDE AND, OH, SO WARM AND SQUISHY ON THE INSIDE—OH, YES, LATER—NOW THE BORF HAVE A CAMP NOT FAR DOWN THE COAST. I TAKE YOU TO THEIR CAMP AND THEY HELP YOU GET YOUR CREW BACK! SZZCHORFT! AND NO SWIMMING IN SHARK TERRITORY—OH, I FORGOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT THAT—THAT’S ANOTHER REASON YOU WOULDN’T WANT TO SWIM INTO PORT NEWORF! SCHORKT-SCHZZZOORT! THOSE SHARKS ARE NOT VERY FRIENDLY—MORE LIKE SLICE YOU UP AND SELL YOU FOR THE GRILL! NO, YOU’RE BETTER OFF WITH THE BORF!”

  Reginald gathered himself and set off, flopping and lumbering along with surprising speed, following the rocky reef up the coast. Red Whale, Fishbum, and Katteo rode along in something less than comfort—but happy, knowing they could never move across the jagged, slippery rocks without Reginald’s help.

  Too Much Slug Beer

  The pleasant, raspy cooing of trallés, piled on top of one another in their wagon, brought smiles to the faces of Reek and Stench as they rode along in their skimmer, now turned wagon. They joked, drank Slug Beer, and periodically lashed the team of slaves pulling them along.

  “Yep,” Reek sighed happily as he took deep draws on his Slug Beer, “we’ve got ’er made now. A good lot of trallés to sell—we’ll be rich in no time.”

  “Well, not so fast, there, Reek—working for Milky Joe’s going to slow down our getting rich. It appears as he’s got our gold to buy the trallés and all we get is Slug Beer until they sells, of which he gets 80% of the profit.”

  “Ah, don’t gripe so much, Stench,” Reek replied. “Why, I’d say Milky Joe did us a fine favor letting us join one of his caravans. Since he’s got the trallé market cornered in these parts, we’d have ended up on the pointed end of a dagger, trying to go it alone. Those big hulking Wreckers he sent to educate us about the customs of trading in these parts probably saved our lives.”

  “Oh, yeah, Reek,” his partner replied, “a right fine favor to send those goons to take all our money for the favor of not leaving a bludgeon stuck firmly in each eye socket and a dagger in the spleen!”

  “Whoa, quiet like, there, Stench. I wouldn’t want to spook anyone with your complainin’—might not sit too good with Milky’s ears—I hear he’s got a lot o’ them on his caravans.”

  “My, my, Reek,” Stench said, “here I thought you were Milky Joe’s good little friend.”

  “I’m alive, got all the Slug Beer I want, and have prospects I didn’t have yesterday. Seems like it’s not too bad so far,” Reek snorted.

  As Reek and Stench talked, the caravan plodded on its way, passing through the broad, open country leading gradually into the foothills of the Don’ot Mountains. Just as the sun began to fall towards the peaks of the distant mountains, word passed that the caravan would make camp for the night.

  Chaining the slaves, in groups, to trees near the campsite, the travelers made campfires and began to cook their simple meal of Whack-Beans, Pot-Smashers, and more Slug Beer. Darkness came quickly once the sun dropped behind the mountains and within a couple of hours after eating, the caravan-beasts were curled in their heavy blankets, feet toward the fire, fast asleep. Although trallé caravans were favorite targets of Borf raiders, the caravan mounted no watch, since Borf attacks were never carried out so close to Port Newolf, but only in the areas much closer to the Borf homelands. Stench and Reek, like the other caravan-beasts, fell into the heavy sleep associated with drinking plenty of Slug Beer. Except for the frequent popping of gassy exhaust from the Whack-Beans, the camp settled into peaceful slumber.

  Wicked’s Cove

  Not far from where the trallé caravan was encamped, however, another party of travelers was approaching. The second group of travelers were a curious sight: there were nearly fifty of them, and except for three adult sea-beasts, the rest were young Squirrels and Coyotes, perhaps ten or eleven years old, all of whom had painted, notched ears, and wore low, flattened hats. Adding to the curious appearance of the travelers was the fact that the young beasts were riding, two-by-two, mounted on huge, ferocious-looking monitors! Immediately behind the mounted young beasts walked Red Whale, Fishbum, and Katteo Jor’Dane.

  Reginald, filled with endless good humor and reckless energy, had carried the sea-beast comrades far down the rocky reef, to a small cove called Wicked’s Sport. “SHNORCKT-SNOOZZCHT! YOU’LL FIND ALL THE HELP YOU NEED AT WICKEDS,” Reginald had said. Sure enough, arriving at Wicked’s Sport, the three sea-beast comrades were astonished: dozens of young Squirrels and Coyotes, all adorned with brightly-painted, notched ears, engaged in what appeared to be a unique kind of play—riding massive, terrifying monitor lizards on the beach!

  Riding—standing up—on the backs of monitors, completing flips while riding, jumping, with twists and somersaults, from one monitor to another—the skill of the young beasts amazed the comrades.

  “THESE ARE BORF NOCKS—YOUNG BORF—SCHZZOOZZSHORCKT!—OOOO, SORRY ABOUT THAT, SOMETIMES CRAB GUTS GIVE ME GAS! ANYWAY—SCHZZOOZZSHORCKT-PFFUZOTTT-SCHZZZOOZZZSHORCKT—OH, MY, THAT WAS A DOOZIE! NOW, AS I WAS SAYING—TO SURVIVE IN THE ROUGH WORLD OF THE BORF, YOU’VE GOT TO BE STRONG AND SMART. IN THE WILD COUNTRY WHERE THE BORF LIVE, NO STRENGTH, NO SMARTS, NO LIVE LONG—SNOOORCKT! SO THE NOCKS ARE SENT DOWN HERE TO GAIN STRENGTH AND SMARTS WHILE THEY PLAY! IF YOU ASK THEM FOR HELP—SCHZZZOOZZZ—SHORCKT-PFFFFUTTT-ZOO SCHZZZOOZZZSHORCKT—SORRY THERE OLD SPOT, PARDON ME—THEY WILL BE GLAD TO HELP YOU, I’M SURE.”

  “Are there no adults here?” Red Whale asked.

  “OH YES,” Reginald replied, “THERE’S ADULTS HERE—LOOK UP ON THE BLUFF OVER THERE.” He pointed to the high ground above the beach where a group of adult Borf could be seen running furiously and tossing large nets at each other.

  “WICKED’S COVE IS A SECRET RETREAT FOR BORF NOCKS AND ADULTS LEARNING TO USE NETS IN ATTACKS ON trallé CARAVANS—SCHZZOOCKT—ooooffconorckt—oh, my, iT FEELS LIKE i may have overdone it a bit today, carrying you all after such a heavy meal—but, as i say, BORF ARE MASTERS WITH NETS, BUT THEY COME HERE TO WORK ON STRATEGY AND SKILLS AGAINST THE CARAVANS.”

  “How can they help us,” Katteo asked.

  “ASK THEM TO MAKE A RAID ON ONE OF THE trallé CARAVANS THAT COME OUT OF PORT NEWOLF—SCHNORCHT—aH, THAT’S MUCH BETTER—RAID THE tralléS THEN USE THEM TO BUY YOUR MATES BACK—THAT’S MUCH BETTER THAN THE THREE OF YOU TRYING TO GET THEM BACK YOURSELVES—SZZZOOOOOCKT—I FEAR YOU’D END UP IN A MOST UNHAPPY CONDITION IF YOU TRIED THAT.”

  Borf Raiders

  A wild trampling sound awoke Reek. He had no time to reflect on what it was, as a large, heavy net dropped over him and Stench. Although not firmly entangled, the time it took for Reek and Stench to rouse from their slumber and struggle free from the net, afforded the Borf raiders sufficient time to make off with their trallés. A similar fate befell the other caravan-beasts. In the blink of an eye, all trallés were carried away from the camp, while other Borf broke the chain holding the slaves to free them. As quickly as the raid began, the dozens of Squirrels and Coyotes who had silently raced through the caravan camp, creating confusion and chaos, had vanished into the night—taking every single trallé and slave with them.

  “Stam-stamer-ast!” Fishbum exulted, “that was fantastic! They didn’t even know what hit them before you were gone again!”

  “That’s our way,” puffed the Borf carrying Fishbum on his back, as he ran furiously along. Borf raids were the essence of speed—lightning fast, the raiders swept into a camp in the dead of night, creating confusion, running furiously, tossing nets to entangle the caravan beasts, carrying off trallés, but doing no real harm to anyone.

  The raiders ran furiously until they were far from the caravan track. Then, they met up with other Borf who were keeping monitor mounts at the ready. Raiding so far from home, and so near to Port Newolf, the Borf wanted to leave the area as quickly as possible. The Borf had only in recent times managed to domesticate the fearsome “dragon” monitors. Borf were the
only beasts who had tried to domesticate monitors—and, for most beasts, the monitors existed only in fearsome legends. Caravans sometimes employed monitors, but only wild ones—the spirited savagery of wild monitors fit the needs of rapid passage caravans perfectly.

  Fully-loaded Borf monitors, however, because they were properly fed, groomed, and trained, moved even more rapidly—some said their feet never touched the ground. Even when somewhat domesticated, the skitterish, fearsome lizards were so dangerous to handle that even Borf preferred to walk or run in most situations—except in circumstances such as on the current raid, where an exceptionally rapid escape was needed, or when some of the best trained monitors were used for other purposes.

  Running to the meeting place, Borf carried Fishbum, Red Whale, and Katteo. The Borf could not afford for anything to slow down their movements. Other Borf carried trallés, and still others were at the rear laying traps to trip up any of the caravan beasts who dared to chase after the raiders.

  “Do you expect them to chase us?” Fishbum asked.

  “Not to worry,” the Borf runner panted, “most of the caravan beasts only get Slug Beer for pay and don’t want to tangle with our traps—they likely won’t come after us—and if they do, well—No more questions! I can’t run and talk.”

  Dragon-Conjurer

  Two days later, Red Whale and Katteo Jor’Dane appeared in Port Newolf disguised as wealthy traders, wearing expensive clothes and the finest, stylish boots and hats. Putting out word that they were “somewhat hollow in the middle”—meaning without ethics—they let it be known that they had some of the finest trallés ever seen round about and were looking to buy a large lot of slaves to work their estates.

  Milky Joe, the principal trader in “nasties” of any sort in Port Newolf, was instantly suspicious of the newly-arrived couple, but also intrigued by their talk of rich tea estates across the Great Sea that required the work of immense numbers of slaves. The strange couple spoke of paying astonishing amounts for slaves—three trallés per slave, an unheard of sum! Nearly wild with greed, but also suspecting a possible trick, Milky Joe sent a runner to consult Colonel Snart, the High One’s Monopole of Hedgelands-bound caravans, who was responsible for all commerce into the Hedgie realm.

  Being an even greedier beast than Milky Joe, the Monopole commanded that Milky Joe conduct the intriguing couple to Mis’tashe, the way-station between Port Newolf and the Hedgelands, where black-market trade in slaves and trallés was often carried on. Distant from settlements, hidden from view, and controlled by Colonel Snart, Mis’tashe was a place where commerce of unusual sorts often occurred. Slaves might be switched from one buyer’s order to another buyer at higher price, trallés bound for one dealer, might be redirected to another, and so on, as best suited Colonel Snart’s interests. No beast entered the extremely remote wilds of Mis’tashe unless invited by the Monopole, which made it convenient to blame delayed or missing orders for slaves or trallés on all manner of catastrophes: Borf raids, avalanches, epidemics, earthquakes, and so on and on. Mis’tashe provided a perfect place for black-market trading with intriguing wealthy buyers. And, under the watchful eye of the Monopole’s ruffians, should there be any trouble with double-dealing buyers, it would be impossible for them to escape.

  Red Whale and Katteo, although feeling encouraged by the success of their disguises, also were proceeding with great care. Although Milky Joe had assigned a detail of Wreckers to “safely conduct” his wealthy customers to Mis’tashe, the travelers insisted on bringing along their own body-guard: a huge monitor!

  When the party was ready to depart, Milky Joe insisted that Red Whale and Katteo should go first, so the Wreckers could keep an eye on them. The wealthy couple refused, however, and after what amounted to a trivial argument—greed once again clouding better reason—the party set out for Mis’tashe with the wealthy couple at the rear, riding astride their monitor! Having never before seen a monitor up close, but knowing the legendary ferocity of the giant lizards, Milky Joe was now even more impressed with these unusual customers. Any beast who could tame such a terror, and bend it to his will, must indeed be a great and important beast! Having planned to accompany the rich buyers to Mis’tashe, the addition of the monitor to the party, and the effect this had on his reflections on the couple, caused Milky Joe to change his mind, and the group departed without him.

  As the group proceeded to Mis’tashe, the constant sound of the monitor drooling and snapping its jaws, and the frequent dull crunching as Red Whale fed the monitor dried shark meat, made the Wrecker escort increasingly jumpy. For a time the jitters among the escort beasts remained contained within each Wrecker, none of them wanting to admit their uneasiness. But the further they traveled and the more reflections on their strange circumstances played on their imaginations, the more openly troubled the Wreckers became.

  Ignorant and superstitious, the Wreckers began to mutter among themselves about what could only be a supernatural power that controlled the monitor. “I wouldn’t mind it so much,” one of the Wreckers said, “if it were some other beast than a dragon! Just ain’t natural that they’re riding a dragon pretty as you please! They’ve got that dragon under a spell—it’s leagued with evil powers, I’ll be bound!”

  “Oh, aye, and for sure that’s right,” another one said uneasily. “Even if they was dressed and acted like raving magicians or wizards, I’d feel better—but just to be normal beasts, carrying on like there’s not a thing amiss, gives me the creeps—can only be bad, bad, bad I say!”

  “Any why do you think Milky Joe dropped us at that last moment? Tell me that! Why he knew we was conducting demons and playin’ with the evil powers—that’s why! He sold us out—lettin’ us carry on with things that’ll have hold of spirits if we don’t watch out!”

  “Yah! Milky Joe sold us out—leavin’ us like that to face demons!”

  As the mutterings among the Wreckers grew louder, Red Whale and Katteo could barely contain their laughter. They could see the tide was turning in their favor even more than they had planned!

  “And don’t you hear them feedin’ that dragon, and those jaws workin’ and that shark flesh tearin’ and him just crunchin’ those bones like nobeast’s business?”

  “I say we get outta here right off,” one of the Wreckers cried out fearfully.

  “Aye!” another yelled.

  “That’s the go!” another agreed. “We’ll just up and leave them right here and let them use their magic and demons and dragon-spells to get themselves outta here!”

  With that, one of the Wreckers, known as D’LoodD, turned to Red Whale and Katteo and announced loudly, “All right ya dragon-spellin’ demon-dealin’ fancy-hats! We’re onto you and we’re leavin’—Milky Joe made a bad, bad deal and he knew it—so’s he left us alone for dragon bait! Yah, we know’s about baitin’ dragons! That’s what they do with those Tilk Duraow runners! Yah, we know! And we’re not fools! So, no insults intended, except the bits of truth I just said that might sound insultin’—but we’re done and leavin’ you. Mis’tashe ain’t more than another couple of hours up the trail there—you’ll make it fine by yourself! Milky Joe took the greedy and safe road—but we’re smart enough to take the safe road and leave it at that!”

  “Now wait just a twinkle,” Katteo said smiling broadly. “I know what you’re thinking and what you’re fearful of—and you’re right, we do have a spell over this dragon!” Katteo glanced side-ways at Red Whale, giving him a sly wink. “Now think a moment, my dear beast,” she continued. “If I have a spell on this dragon, keeping him from eating you, don’t you know I could pull that spell off faster than you can say, ‘DEAD!’” she said, emphasizing the last word loudly.

  The Wreckers were now trembling with terror as Katteo continued, “Aye, so I could do that—and, if you run off, I could just take off the spell and let the dragon fly after you! Yes, I can make the dragon fly! And I can conjure up as many as I want! So, I wouldn’t get too hasty on your departure.”
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br />   “Oh, don’t set the dragon on us!” D’LoodD pleaded, the other Wreckers adding their own desperate cries as well.

  Smiling kindly, Katteo raised her arms in a gesture asking for quiet. With a tone of understanding and compassion, she said, “There, there, don’t be fearful. I won’t set the dragon on you—and, in fact, I’ll let you go free with gold in your pocket, if you will do a small favor for us.”

  “Oh, yea, name your price!” D’LoodD cried out. “We’ll do anything for you, if you’ll spare our humble lives!”

  “We want to double-deal Milky Joe—which should make you happy—we want to steal the slaves being offered to us from under his very nose—especially the first-quality ones taken from the Daring Dream. Ha! You see, we’re just like you, we don’t trust Milky Joe and don’t see any reason to treat him fair. So, what we want you to do is to go on with us to Mis’tashe and, when we get there, swear that Milky Joe was eaten by this here dragon on my command, and that you are sure I’ll feed you and all of the Mis’tashe crew to my dragons also, if they don’t do as I say. And, for this small favor—in addition to saving your lives—we will give each of you a solid gold coin.”

  The Wreckers, dumbfounded at their good fortune, immediately agreed with the plan. “Oh, thank you, thank you, mighty She-Hellion, Dragon-Conjurer!” D’LoodD exclaimed. “You can count on our grateful service!”

  The End for Sabre Tusk

  Mis’tashe was a large and strongly built trading station, remote from all the lanes of normal commerce and frequented only by those trading beyond the law. But in a land where the “tidy little trades” were active, the station provided service to many a slaver or shadowy merchant. Built of sturdy gray stone, Mis’tashe had four wings, completely enclosing an open central square where slaves or trallés were held and displayed for sale. Windowless, except for double-grated openings in the single enormous iron door that served as the main entrance, Mis’tashe had an appropriately dismal and forbidding appearance, consistent with its work.

  When Red Whale, Katteo, and their Wrecker escorts arrived at the station, the Wreckers, true to their promise, put on the performance of their lives.

  “BEASTS OF THE TRADE! HEAR US WRECKERS! COME OUT AND HEAR US! ALL YOU BEASTS OF MIS’TASHE WHO WANT TO LIVE LONGER THAN AN HOUR! BEASTS OF THE TRADE! HEAR US WRECKERS! COME OUT AND HEAR US! WE WARN YOU OF POWERS THAT EVEN WE FEAR!”

  This electrifying announcement brought beasts pouring out of Mis’tashe. The Wreckers were well-known to all the beasts at the station. Wreckers were tough, fearless, and strong—if they were fearful and had warnings to give, every beast wanted to hear about it! As the Mis’tashe beasts gathered, the Wreckers continued their frenzied yelling.

  RUN! CLEAR OUT! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THE CRAZY BEASTS RIDING THE DRAGON ARE POWERFUL WIZARDS AND CONJURERS!” yelled one.

  “THE DRAGON’S UNDER THEIR SPELL! THEY TRICKED MILKY JOE AND THE DRAGON ATE HIM! SNAP-CRUNCH-SLURP—AND HE WAS A GONER—CLEAN AS A WHISTLE, NOT A SCRAP LEFT—NOT EVER A GREASY SPOT ON THE TRAIL—GONE—GONE—GONE!” moaned another, his eyes rolling in terror.

  Another wailing Wrecker, drooling from his mouth, and shaking at the knees, yelled, “THE DRAGON-CONJURER CAN MAKE THEM FLY—AND SHE CAN MAKE AS MANY AS SHE NEEDS TO EAT US ALL! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! SHE’LL KILL US IF WE DON’T LEAVE THE SLAVES AND GET OUT OF HERE!”

  Another fell to the earth in a trembling mass of flesh, blubbering and jabbering incoherently. “DAA-DA-DU—DRAGOOSE—DRAGOOSOON—DARGOTON—CHOMPED JOWEE—AIEEEEEE!” The poor beast began spinning on the ground like as if possessed by banshees. AIEEEEEEEE! DRAAGOOOOOOSOONE! ME GONEY!”

  The effect of this dramatic performance was electric. Seeing the astonishing transformation of the burly, normally steel-nerved, Wreckers into a lot of blubbering, insane with terror beasts, drained every ounce of courage and reason out of the Mis’tashe guards and workers.

  White-faced, the Mis’tashe beasts were frozen in terror for an instant. Then another most amazing thing happened, which sent them running pell-mell across the hills. One of the Wreckers, as part of his frenzied performance, cried out, “AND THE WORST OF IT IS THAT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT OTHER STRANGE BEASTS SHE CAN CALL IN ON US! SHE CONTROLS THE VERY LEGIONS OF HELL—WHAT OTHER TERRORS CAN SHE CALL UPON US?”

  At that very moment, all eyes were suddenly attracted to a curiously humorous, yet, for the Wreckers, terrifying, sight: A troop of nine beasts marching a stark, raving mad Rummer Boar before them at the point of a cutlass.

  “By the powers of hell!” the Rummer yelled “Take me back to the King Lizard, you scalawags! Return me to my savior and protector! The lizard armies will keep the birds from pooping on my hat! Don’t take me away from my King, my Lord!”

  D’LoodD shouted, “SEE THE POWERS OF THE SHE-HELLION! SEE WHAT SHE’S DONE TO SABRE TUSK D’NEWOLF! THAT BE THE RUMMER BOAR CAPTAIN—AND NO DOUBT ABOUT IT! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”

  “SHE CALLED BIRDS DOWN ON HIM AND DESTROYED HIM!” another Wrecker screamed.

  The more the Rummer Boar loudly raved, the more terror his insane ranting caused in the Wreckers and their fellow ruffians.

  “AIEEEEEEAHHHHH!” The scream broke from each of the Wreckers and all the Mis’tashe staff as if in one voice. Breaking free from their frozen terror, every muscle went towards full-throated, fully active, terrified flight. In a few moments, Mis’tashe was empty—except for Red Whale, Katteo, their monitor, and the dozens of slaves being held inside the way-station slave dock.

  “What now?” Katteo asked quizzically. “What’s that all about?”

  “I have no idea,” Red Whale replied, “but a Rummer Boar’s bad news wherever he shows up. I assume all those holding him captive can only be friendly beasts and we should aid them. I’ll ride out and greet our visitors. You stay here and see to the slaves—let them know what’s happening. They may be pretty worked up by all they may have heard.”

  “Aye, aye, Capt’n!” Katteo grinned.

  Mounting up, Red Whale gave Katteo a determined look and kicked the flanks of the monitor hard. Rearing back, the monitor slashed at the air with its jaws, then tore off like a bolt of lightning, heading straight toward the Rummer Boar and his escort.

  Riding directly at the Rummer Boar was a stroke of genius, Red Whale realized as he closed on his prey. The massive dragon-lizard, jaws flashing and snapping, snarling and snorting, coming on like a hurricane from hell, broke the Rummer down completely. Collapsing to his knees, rambling on about bird’s pooping on his feathers and pleading for the Lizard King’s mercy, the Rummer looked blankly into the face of the fearsome monitor as Red Whale pulled up on the dragon’s reins, stopping the monitor directly in front of the now-docile Rummer Boar. Not a word was spoken. Nothing need be said, as the razor-sharp teeth glistened inches from the Rummer’s lowered head, and the dragon snorted hot breath nearly directly into the Boar’s face. The days of Sabre Tusk d’Newolf, terror of the seas, were over.

  Helga and Breister Reunited

  “Too-Way! friends—what ship?”

  Mr. Tigg and Bomper Spits, awakening to find their boat washed up into shallow water near a sandy beach, were startled to see a Cow, an odd-looking Owl, and a female Cougar standing knee deep in the water, looking at them curiously.

  Sensing the hail was a friendly greeting, Roolo replied, “Good breeze, mates! No ship at present, as you see—tight scrape a few nights back and wind smashed the ol’ Daring Dream flat. Where are ya bound?”

  “They call me Breister. Until recently, I was Toolmaster of O’Fallon’s Bluff—that was a Wood Cow settlement within the Hedgelands. But now we’ve been banished and we’re looking for my daughter, Helga, who came this way to help some shipwrecked sea-beasts she heard are in distress. So you see we’re in a bit of a scrape ourselves.”

  “She would be looking for us!” Bomper yelled excitedly. “You must mean the Daring Dream!”

  “Don’t know the name,” Breister replied, “might be that, or another—but you sure look
like sea-beasts in need of help, which is good enough for me. Now, have you seen my daughter? Did she find you and get you sailing again?”

  “Crinoo!” Roolo cursed. “She did find us but we got separated. Then we were supposed to meet her, which is why you find us here. We’ve got to get back to our ship. Our ship’s been taken by Wrackshees and all the crew are captives. We went off to find help to repair the ship, so we could rescue them. That’s how we met Helga.”

  Breister and his friends exchanged quizzical looks.

  “You’re doing what?” Breister asked.

  “We’re looking for help to repair the ship,” Roolo repeated.

  “By the Ancient Ones!” Breister laughed. “How on earth is that going to help your mates being—right now as we speak—carried away into slavery? Are you crazy? Whose idea was that? By the Ancient Ones! It will take days to repair your ship and by then your mates will be breaking rock at Tilk Duraow—miles and miles from anywhere you’re going to go in a ship! Are you nuts?”

  Had Breister’s outburst not been filled with laughter and good spirit, Roolo and Bomper would have melted into the sand in embarrassment. As it was, they managed to exchange sheepish looks and join the laughter.

  “I guess that’s why neither one of us is Captain,” Bomper chuckled.

  “And who’s the Captain?” Breister inquired.

  “Capt’n Red Whale Gumberpott, mate,” Bomper said proudly, “and not a better Capt’n on all the seas!”

  “And where might this great sea-beast be?” asked Breister.

  “We don’t rightly know that, mate,” Roolo replied. “He and our shipmate, Fishbum, was on night watch and disappeared just as the Wrackshees were attacking the Daring Dream—they seems to have vanished. Don’t rightly know where they are now.”

  Breister, shaking his head in wonder, cast a bemused look at his comrades, who were chuckling among themselves.

  “So, this great and daring Sea Captain—just so I understand—this great and daring Captain, abandoned his watch at the first sign of trouble and fled?” Breister said with a laugh. “And that might make a beast like myself wonder if there’s anyone on your ship fit to be Captain? Let’s see, we have four sea-beasts, including the Captain and his mate on watch, all of whom saw an attack coming and all went over the side rather than warn their friends?—Why, it’s a crew of mad-beasts!”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, friend,” Bomper said with a hint of edge in his voice, “but Capt’n Gumberpott would never abandon his ship ’n crew—lessin’ he thought he could save ’em somehow—that’s just the plain truth and I’ll be thankin’ you do drop the snickering about him!”

  “Fairly told, friend,” Breister smiled, “I was dashin’ to the finish before I had legs to run on—but I’m just a humble carpenter and don’t much understand the ways of sea-beasts. No, I just don’t do things quite like yourselves! A Wood Cow would never abandon home and friends, and now I see that is your way, too. So, I’ll be askin’ your friendship and pledgin’ mine ’till we rescue your mates. I’ll be pleased if you forgive that your ways give me good humor.”

  “Just hold it a-time, there, Breister,” Toshty said. Pointing to the point, not far distant, where the curve of the beach hid the sea beyond, he cried, “Scum-Ralleys comin’ ashore! Rummer Boars!”

  Breister glanced quickly at the three-masted ship turning around the nearby point and emerging from the trees that had concealed its advance. Flying the Rummer flag—black shark on crimson background—there was little doubt who was coming for a visit. Although he had never encountered them directly, Breister knew about the Rummers. His Cougar friend Annie was from a sea-faring family, and told many stories about the feared freebooters. The “black shark and blood” flag was known to all.

  Breister quickly surveyed the situation: open beach, concealment possible only where the forest thickened in the direction of the Rummers, and the only route of escape being the way the he and his friends had reached the beach—a steep open hillside. Breister gave directions: “We gain nothing by fleeing—no time to scale the hill. Let me do the talking and follow my lead. I don’t have a plan yet, but I call on the Ancient Ones for help. If all else should fail, I will use the flicker pole before they can take us captive.”

  Within minutes of the ship rounding the point, it had dropped anchor and lowered two longboats. The longboats pulled rapidly up to the beach. A tall, long-tusked Boar, sitting in the prow of the first longboat to touch the beach, was the first Rummer to step ashore. The sea-beast, from his luxurious dress, was obviously the Rummer Boar captain: he wore a heavy black damask waistcoat—black because Rummers’ clothes were traditionally darkened, if not completely blackened by the smoky soot of fires used to roast shark meat; gaudy shark-leather breeches; tall lizard-skin boots reaching half-way up the thigh; an oversized hat with numerous crimson ostrich feathers fluttering in the breeze; a bandoleer of flash gourds; a cutlass and dagger at the belt; and, around his neck, a gold chain hung with dozens of golden shark’s teeth. His authority as Rummer captain, however, was summed up by the Boar’s unusually fearsome curving tusks—which were unnaturally long and sharpened to a point like a dagger.

  “I am Sabre Tusk d’Newolf,” the Rummer Captain announced.

  Breister saluted the Rummer in a friendly, but not submissive, manner and declared boldly, “I am Breister, Chief of these Beasts of Fortune and I see that you, too, have a quick eye for profit!” He walked to Roolo and Bomper, giving them a quick wink. Then, poking and pinching their muscles, he declared, “I grant you that these two are not great prizes in their physicals. But what is the richest thing you have to trade for what they can tell you?”

  A brief jolt of shock shot through Roolo and Bomper as they realized they were pawns in Breister’s deadly game. Stalwart and bold as Captain Gumberpott himself, however, neither sea-beast betrayed fear or surprise. Instead they took up their part of the dangerous gamble.

  Roolo suddenly leaped in the keelboat and rummaging frantically, bent down low, seemed to pop something in his mouth, and stood up obviously struggling to swallow something large. Actually, there appeared to be two large objects bulging in his throat, one following the other. Working this mouth and throat, almost gagging and choking, eyes watering with the effort—finally, just as his face began to turn purple and his eyes bugged out, the amazed beasts saw the large objects that had been bulging in his throat slide down and disappear into his gut!

  “Mercy me, mates,” Roolo gasped, drawing in a great gulp of air. “The Royal Eyeballs were harder to swallow than I expected!” Taking another deep breath, he continued, “But, if it’s riches ya want,” Roolo scowled, “that’ll show ya that there’s more riches than you’ll ever want. The Royal Eyeballs I just swallowed are immense, perfectly round diamonds. They are among the largest diamonds in the world, and because of their perfection and the fact each has a blue spot making them look like eyeballs, they are priceless beyond value. Priceless, that is, except to those who want to possess them! Now, I ask ya—how much would the Royal Eyeballs be worth to a fine beast such as yourself?”

  Watching Sabre Tusk nearly drooling at the prospect, Roolo continued in a threatening tone, “But unless you treat us all fair and square, we’ll never spit a word o’ any riches in your direction.” Indicating Breister and the others, Roolo continued, “When we met up with these rogues, we didn’t trust them and thought at first they might be bandits. So, we hid the Royal Eyeballs—now I’ve swallowed them and that should furl your sails a bit! But, treat us square and you’ll get the Royal Eyeballs soon enough, and what you just saw is my promise I know where there are even richer prizes!” Roolo made this declaration with such convincing passion that even Breister wondered if the statement might be true.

  “So you see the bargain we offer,” Breister said coolly.

  “We are Beasts of Fortune, but not warriors like yourself. We wish to trade you knowledge of immense riches, for the best of what you have right now—a game of chan
ce is what we offer. Are you bold enough to go for great wealth, or only scrabbling after coins in the endless chase for slaves?”

  “Riches are, as riches be,” Sabre Tusk replied. “What riches do you speak of?”

  Bomper, always able to come up with a good story, rose to the challenge. Giving the Rummer a sly look, he said, “What riches, you ask? How about an immense cargo of the rarest snakeskins, bolts of fine embroidered leather, cases of the finest bamboo lace, crates of Crabbee spices and Peskee teas, besides gold and jewels enough to buy several Norder Estates. Not to mention plenty of Slug Beer and Fur-Blaze Sauce to keep your crew happy for a long while—all tucked nicely away, as we knows.”

  “One fool only I’ll deal with—this is between you and me,” Sabre Tusk snapped at Roolo darkly. “Why should I give a moment’s thought to these lying beasts or that witless bug buzzing away beside you? They’re hardly Beasts of Fortune, no matter what they claim—let’s see, for a leader we have barkskin overalls and worker-beast boots, a fearful hammer and saw at the belt, and a twinkle in the eye—Bah! Hardly stuff to raise up worry. Seems to me, I buy you off, you tell me where the riches are, and I take the rest for slaves! Or, you don’t like that deal and I just split you open stem to stern and take the Royal Eyeballs and call it good enough.”

  “Nay!” Roolo said angrily. “Talk that way, you’ll never win the grandest prize of all—and you, being the greatest freebooter of them all, would not settle like that—and on that point, I’ll stake my wager.”

  “These beasts are our friends now,” Bomper added. “We protect our mates—you treat them as you treat us, or no deal.”

  “Curse your impudence!” Sabre Tusk snarled. “You’re rascals and that’s for certain.” But the Rummer Boar also stroked his moustache thoughtfully, then stepped forward and squinted at Roolo, then Bomper.

  “A trallé for the two of you,” Sabre Tusk said, “but nothing for those other bilge-swilling liars—they live to be fools yet another day, but no charity from me.”

  “Not today!” Breister challenged. “We are Beasts of Fortune, like yourself. Leave us out of gettin’ and we might not play nice any longer—it’s not the hammers and saws you have to fear, but this!” He picked up a long staff lying at his feet and held it threateningly. “To be fair, I need to even the odds a bit—as a Beast of Fortune yourself, you’ll understand the rules of this business. You force my hand and I’ll use this flicker pole against you.”

  “Oh, my—save me from such a fate,” Sabre Tusk roared. “He’s got a wooden pole and he’s going to use it against us!” Looking around at his men, he said, “Show this idiot what we will answer his mighty pole with, lads!” Instantly, drawn swords, dirks, razor-edged boomerangs, and battle-axes appeared on every side.

  “Now, as I was saying,” Sabre Tusk declared, “Two trallés for the fools who have entertained me—I admire their spirit—for the rest of you ‘Beasts of Fortune,’ as you call yourselves, the sand that fills your boots as you run out of here with your heads still on.”

  Turning back to Roolo and Bomper, Sabre Tusk growled menacingly, “Now, I advise you two fools to accept my offer not to split you in half and accept the trallés—but you show me the goods and gold before we pull our cutlasses back from your heads.” The Rummer Boar directed two of his crew to position themselves behind Roolo and Bomper, with cutlasses raised above their heads.

  “And as for you, Master Sir with the Terror Pole, we’ll just take that, if you please.” Sabre Tusk was about to direct others in his crew to take the flicker pole from Breister, when a strange clattering and oogling caught everyone’s attention.

  Glancing up the hillside at the top of the beach, every beast blinked or startled with wonder. Like a fantastic tsunami, an immense moving wave of lizards was flowing over the top of the hill and down toward the beach! Most amazing of all was that a Cow ran at the head of the on-rushing stampede! Although individual lizards were not large, the immense numbers of them made a terrifying sight—especially with the sound of their sharp claws clattering across the rocks on the hillside.

  Gooodg-Oog-looo! Oog-Oog-looo! The on-rushing wave of lizards descended in a seemingly endless cascade over the brow of the hill, charging full speed directly at the beasts standing on the beach.

  The Rummer Boars, except for Sabre Tusk, did not waste time in retreating to their boats. Running clumsily through the sand, nearly stumbling and falling, Sabre Tusk’s crew jumped in their boats and pushed away from shore, leaving their Captain behind. They did not row for the ship, but stopped some yards off shore to see what the lizards would do when they reached water’s edge.

  Sabre Tusk did not frighten easily and his focus on the promise of riches was not diminished by a few lizards—even tens of thousands of them. Breister, for his part, was nearly speechless—he was certain that his daughter Helga was the Cow running among the stampeding lizards! Found!

  Roolo and Bomper, although extremely doubtful about the wisdom of being overrun by thousands of sharp-clawed lizards, remained true to their new-found friend and refused to move until Breister did. Toshty and Annie, of course, being “one for all, and all for all,” stood their ground also. So, as the mass of lizards flowed ever closer, the group on the beach remained in place.

  When the charging lizard wave hit the beach, however, the stampede suddenly stopped. The lizards scattered and scuttled across the beach in a disorganized fashion, as if each lizard were searching for something in the sand. Slowly the immense faceless herd became, one after another, individual lizards looking for the best possible nesting site. Little by little, each found spots to their liking and began digging out a sandy hollow to lay eggs.

  Coming over the brow of the hill, Helga had immediately noticed the beasts standing on the beach, and quickly recognized her father and friends! The joy of that recognition pushed the terror and tension of her recent ordeal to the back of her mind and she put on a new burst of speed as she rushed toward reunion with Breister.

  “Helgy! Helgy!” laughed Breister, grabbing his daughter and pulling her close in a joyful embrace.

  Sabre Tusk, in spite of himself, had eyes as big as saucers. Roolo and Bomper smiled broadly and Toshty and Annie slapped her on the back in welcome.

  “As I breathe, Helga,” Breister said happily, “you certainly made a dramatic entrance!”

  “Yea, verily,” Helga laughed, “it’s been quite a day—started off racing against monitors snapping at my heels, survived a Godgie stampede, and ended up finding you and the others!”

  Looking around at the other beasts, Helga’s eyes settled on Sabre Tusk. She did not need any help to assess his character. “Who’s this Hunky-Junky?” she asked.

  “H’yart, there, now,” Sabre Tusk snarled, “stop your buzzin’ like a pack of flies! There’s serious business we’re about—I’ll just call me crew back and we’ll be on with things!”

  Sabre Tusk, however, had not counted on a change in heart of his crew who had been floating some yards off shore. With the beach now endlessly covered with lizards, the keelboats began pulling hard toward the ship. Sabre Tusk called for his crew to come back, “Land, you scoundrels! Beach those boats and help me out, you scalawags, or I’ll boil your spleens in rum and feed them to you!”

  “Nay, Captain! Nay, our dear and worthy Captain!” the call came back from the keelboats. “We see you in no danger—for you, yourself, said you had nothing to fear from those ‘fools’ and ‘so-called Beasts of Fortune’ as you named them! So, since we’ve been plotting for a chance to maroon you these past weeks—seems right to us, to let those as command others like they was lizards, to stay among the lizards! We’ve elected Saltface as our new captain and we’ll be sailing off to better haunts without you!” So saying, they left Sabre Tusk raging on the beach, surrounded by Godgie lizards.

  Fuming, but unable to do anything to stop them, for an instant Sabre Tusk simply screamed after his crew, then turned on Breister again.

  “You bil
ge-sucking, lying Cow! You’re responsible for this! You and your lizard-loving daughter! You tricked me! I should have known!” With a roar, the Rummer Boar leaped at Breister, knocking him to the sand. As Sabre Tusk hit him, Breister’s flicker pole flew from his grasp. Breister rolled once and, pulling his hammer from his belt, bounced back up, facing Sabre Tusk.

  “I’ll slice you to shark bait,” the Rummer Boar cried, slashing his cutlass at Breister.

  “Not this time, Rummer-Sum!” Breister returned, parrying away the cutlass blow with his hammer.

  Despite Breister’s courage, a carpenter’s hammer is no match for a heavy cutlass. The enraged Rummer Boar demonstrated why he was known to be a terror in battle. Slashing with a speed that seemed to cut light itself into small bits, Helga could see no way to stop Sabre Tusk’s attack on her father. It was just a matter of time before the much more skilled Rummer Boar would overcome her father. Quickly picking up her father’s fallen flicker pole, Helga began to work it furiously. With incredible speed, Helga waved the flexible pole, making the tip a blur of motion above her head. An undulating, whisper-like song sounded across the beach.

  “Oh, Ancient Ones, help me, help me please,” Helga pleaded silently. Despite the fatigue that made her arms feel heavy and weak, she kept the pole moving furiously. The whisper-like song grew louder. Very soon, a few seabirds fishing off shore changed their direction and headed for the beach. Then, great numbers of birds, appearing from all points of the compass, began gathering in immense flocks wheeling overhead: sea birds, hawks and eagles, sparrows and jays, every kind of bird within miles! Descending en masse, the birds began settling down to roost on every available perch—as near to Helga as possible. Fluttering and flapping, cooing and cawing, chirping and squawking, pecking and pooping—the flocks covered the area around Helga.

  Sabre Tusk’s attention was no longer on Breister as the immense flock began to descend around him. Instead, he tried to escape. Running as best he could through the vast gathering of lizards, stumbling, tripping, falling, crawling, he scrabbled across the beach like a crab. The immense maze of lizards, however, left hardly a patch of sand to walk on. Soon, the Rummer Boar captain, who had made little progress through the lizards, knelt among the lizards, screaming, weeping, and blubbing like a wild beast. He was rapidly becoming splattered with black, yellow, white, and brown bird droppings.

  To Sabre Tusk’s disgust and horror, his elegant and dramatic oversized hat was nearly dripping with the slimey, smelly mess—becoming a veritable poop umbrella. Some of the birds who commonly made their livelihoods as pick-pockets and petty thieves, swooped at the Rummer Boar’s necklace of golden shark’s teeth, quickly picking him clean.

  “What a lot of ships!” he cried! “We’re being boarded! But let them come and I will squash them between my fingers!” Jumping and leaping at the swooping birds, Sabre Tusk tried in vain to capture them between his thumb and forefinger. Pinching at the wheeling birds as if he could pop them between his fingers like bugs, the Rummer Boar’s ranting grew wilder and wilder. “Shim, my mate—turn the wheel to starboard! We’re being boarded—turn away, turn! Starboard! Shim! Shim! Are ye deaf? Why don’t you turn the wheel? Shim! Where are you? Why don’t you answer me?”

  But the only answer Sabre Tusk received was a direct hit on the nose from a very sloppy bird dropping. “Yieeeah! I’m hit—” he cried, falling to his knees and crawling over and among the lizards. The once fierce Rummer Boar, now reduced to the appearance of a filthy wildman, wriggling among the lizards, broke into a crazed, delirious shrieking.

  “Oh, darlin’s, make room for me, please!” Sabre Tusk wailed, talking to the lizards. “Don’t let them poop on me! Help me, protect me hat! They’re soiling my feathers! Your kingdom is big and vast! Who is your king? Take me to him to plead my case! I’ll serve him forever if his army will protect me against all that poop falling from the sky!” The poor beast, his mind snapped, crawled senselessly among the lizards, stopping here and there to plead his cause.

  Getting little response, he turned his elegant damask coat inside out and, pulling it over himself and his precious hat, the insane sea-beast collapsed in a quivering mass, tucked tightly under his coat.

  Helbara Freed

  Katteo walked quickly to the Mis’tashe station house and entered, pushing open a heavy oaken door. She was surprised to find the place completely empty! She and Red Whale had understood that their comrades—slaves on their way to Tilk Duraow—were being held at the station. By way of the ruse Katteo and Red Whale had employed, they had succeeded in negotiating the purchase of their comrades with Milky Joe, in exchange for the plundered trallés. The ruse, however, having worked beyond the wildest hopes of Katteo and Red Whale, now seemed to offer the possibility of freeing their comrades without exchange of the valuable trallés!

  This happy possibility required that their comrades actually be present at Mis’tashe, however, and Katteo’s heart fell as she surveyed the silent station-house. Had Milky Joe double-crossed them? Perhaps they had been lured into a trap and they were the ones who were victims of some grand performance? These doubts and fears rushed through Katteo’s mind as she struggled to grasp what had happened to her shipmates—essential parts of their plan!

  “Who’s there?” came a voice, causing Katteo to startle. Wheeling around rapidly to view the entire room again, Katteo still saw no other creature. “Who’s there?” the voice asked again, coming from some unseen point nearby.

  Searching more closely with her gaze, Katteo realized that the voice was coming from outside the station-house, the voice filtering in through an open window. Rushing outside, she found a female Wood Cow, with white shaggy hair falling down across her neck and shoulders, chained to the wall by a rusty chain attached to a roughly-made iron collar encircling her neck. She wore a dirty, wide-brimmed had with the brim rolled up tightly on one side.

  “Dear beast!” Katteo cried, embracing the prisoner, feeling an immense bond of affection with the unknown captive. “Who are you?” Katteo asked urgently. “Are there others with you?”

  “Slow there, friend,” the Wood Cow replied, smiling broadly. “I was asking the question first!” she laughed.

  “I’m Katteo Jor’Dane, and with Captain Red Whale Gumberpott, we’ve come to free our comrades from the clutches of Milky Joe and his slavers! But, we’d expected to find them here and I’m troubled of mind that they seem to be nowhere around.”

  “Oh, they’re here, all right,” the Wood Cow said. “I’m Helbara and I make it my business to know everything about the movement of slaves, trallés, and all that nasty business. You knew the route of the trallé caravan you raided, because I passed that information on to the Borf!”

  Katteo was stunned. “You mean you—chained to the wall in this remote place—helped the raid we made?”

  “Aye,” Helbara said proudly. “Why I consider this ring around my neck a certain sort of badge of honor! The more chains they put on me and the more they send me away to distant, unheard of places, the more I know they consider me dangerous to their filthy business! But they can’t figure out what I’m doing to them—Ha-Ha-Ha-Ho! They don’t see me doing anything and they won’t let me talk to anyone, but they sense that somehow I’m the cause of a lot of their caravans being plundered! Ha-Ha-Ha-Ho!”

  “That’s pretty interesting, Helbara, but you’ll have to tell me more later,” Katteo interrupted. “We can’t count on our success lasting forever—we’ve got to find out friends and get everyone out of here!”

  “The key to my collar is hanging on the wall inside behind the counter,” Helbara said. “Release me and I’ll lead you to your friends.”

  As they were talking, Red Whale, his new friends, and their ranting prisoner arrived.

  Breister rushed ahead of the others. As soon as he had seen Helbara in the distance, a delicious, electrifying bolt of recognition raced through him. In that moment, the image that had so long so haunted his dreams and life—the reme
mbered beauty and delightful brown eyes of his treasured wife—leaped into the vivid present! The steadiness of mind and solid calmness in emergencies, so characteristic of Breister, failed him completely now. The iron ring around Helbara’s neck, the dirty, rusty chains holding her in such a dreadful place—powerless to veil the beautiful spirit and delightful smile—made his eyes swim with tears. He staggered forward the last few steps and embraced his beloved wife, weeping uncontrollably.

  “Breister! Breister! Breister!” Hugging Breister close, Helbara happily called his name repeatedly, even as her eyes were fixed on a tall, young Wood Cow standing just behind Breister. The young beast’s frame was strong and tall, like Breister, but her large eyes were not the pale blue of her father, but the deep dark brown of her mother.

  “Helga!” gasped Helbara, realizing the tall, mature Wood Cow was the daughter she had hidden away in the river to escape Wrackshee bondage ten years earlier!

  “Mama!” Helga exclaimed.

  In another moment, mother, father, and daughter were locked in each other’s arms, with joy and happiness that cannot be adequately described.

  “What have they done to you?” sobbed Breister. “Get her out of these chains!”

  “You all know each other!” Red Whale exclaimed, incredulously.

  Breister, unable to reply, simply nodded his head from where it nestled over Helbara’s shoulder. The ironic contrast of his joyful, tearful face resting against the hard, rough iron collar around Helbara’s neck soon ended.

  Returning with the key, Katteo handed it to Helga and she released her mother from her long bondage. As the iron ring fell free from Helbara’s neck, Red Whale pushed the still ranting Sabre Tusk forward. “There now,” Red Whale laughed, “don’t let that neck iron go to waste—just clap it around the neck of this here stark, raving mad freebooter!”

  Click-Snap! As the iron ring clapped around Sabre Tusk’s neck, Helbara pulled back from her family’s embrace. “My work is not finished here,” she said firmly. “There will be much to tell and much to ask later,” she said. “But we must free the others and depart from here before trouble comes back our way—which it surely will before long!” Lifting her long-used hat from the peg where it hung, she firmly unrolled the brim as a sign that her bondage was ended, pulled the now full-brimmed hat on her head, and said, “Now we free your mates! But even that will not be easy.”

  Leading the group to the far side of the station, Helbara pointed to a large wagon parked near the building. “Push that wagon out of the way,” she directed. “It is parked there to hide the entrance to the central square where the slaves are kept—your comrades are there.”

  Toshty, Annie, and Helga fell to the task and rolled the wagon back away from the building. With the wagon removed, a large iron double-door was revealed. Helbara took the key that had opened her iron collar and fitted it to the lock on the door, smiling as the lock clicked open. “They use a single skeleton key for all their locks,” she laughed. “Not the best security plan, it seems!”

  Helbara’s good cheer faded, however, as she gave further instructions to the group. “Have every weapon you carry at the ready—there’s no telling what will meet us when I open the door. There is an immense—nay, gigantic—nay, stupendous—monitor lizard guarding the entrance to the central square. As a bit of a joke, they call her Little Puss—though she is large enough to eat a couple of us in a single gulp!”

   Slowly opening one of the doors a crack, Helbara peered to the inside. “Yech!” she coughed as a revolting odor exhaled from the passage below. “Oh, by the Ancient Ones!” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “The stink of that monitor’s breath makes me woozy!” The presence of an immense monitor just beyond the iron double-doors was unmistakable to all: vicious hissing and snorting, jaws snapping, chains grinding, claws raking across stone, and leather straining under great pressure told the story.

  Stepping forward, Red Whale opened the door a crack to get his own intelligence about the beast. The monitor was chained to a stake just inside the doorway, leaving no room to pass without coming within reach of the monitor’s jaws. Obviously fresh and vigorous, the giant lizard, seeing Red Whale peeking at it, moved into classic monitor attack mode. Dropping as close to the ground as possible, the monitor flattened its gigantic head and coiled into a crouching position, gathering itself to rush forward. Watching with a wary eye and flicking its tongue continuously, Little Puss clearly knew her plan better than Red Whale and his friends knew theirs.

  “Wait a bit,” Red Whale cautioned, closing the door again. “I have an idea I’d like to explain.”

  “It’s clear there’s no hope of moving past that dragon without a fight,” Red Whale began. “She’s determined that we won’t pass her, and there’s no way to our comrades without getting past her. That means, we need the best weapons we can muster—we’ve got to even the terms of battle or we will lose too many of us in the attempt. I won’t waste my crew in a futile struggle.”

  All the other beasts agreed, but Helga asked, “So, what do you propose? All the weapons we have are either completely inadequate to defeating such a monster, or require us to go too close in our attack—why she’d rip off our arm before we could get in one lick with a cutlass!”

  “That’s right,” Red Whale replied. “But we’ve got another possibility. We’ll send our own monitor down there to battle with Little Puss first, the terms will be uneven, but I think it’s our best chance to at least wear Little Puss down a bit before we take her on.”

  Everyone agreed that Red Whale’s suggestion was a good one. But Helga had a question: “How do we know that our monitor will want to attack another monitor twice its size? Seems like the brute’s instinct for self-preservation might argue against that.”

  “Aye,” Red Whale agreed, “and that’s why I’ll be ridin’ our monitor steed into battle! I’ll back ’er up a ways and give ’er all the spurrin’ I can to get ’er goin’ fast—then, just before we reach the door, you throw it open, and I’ll ride her straight as an arrow right at Little Puss before she has a chance to skitter. Catch ’em both by surprise—that’s our best chance.”

  “But what about you, Red Whale?” all the beasts exclaimed in unison. “You’re makin’ yourself dragon bait!”

  “Now don’t you go worryin’ about Captain Gumberpott,” Red Whale replied. “I’m still captain in this here crew and I’ll be makin’ the decisions, and my decision is that I’m the one who’ll be takin’ the chances first—even if this plan works, there’ll still be plenty of chances to take before we’re past that monster. So just furl your sails for a moment—you can charge off into battle very soon—but let’s see if we can soften up the enemy a bit first.”

  Walking over to where the monitor steed was tethered, Red Whale patted the faithful lizard on the head and said, “Now don’t take what’s going to happen as if I don’t care for you, ol’ beast—I just need you to take a bit of a chance with me.” Mounting up, Red Whale looked around as his friends and, giving the monitor a deep dig in the flanks, shot forward to meet Little Puss.

  Scuttling rapidly across the open area toward the iron doors, Red Whale’s monitor steed was reaching full speed, when Helga and Helbara threw the iron doors open. The monitor suddenly stopped dead in its tracks just at the open doorway, looking straight at Little Puss. Flicking its tongue rapidly, it moved forward slowly. Red Whale, who had been urging his steed on, kicking its flanks, realized that something strange was happening. Little Puss also dropped its battle stance at the sight of the much smaller monitor. Rapidly flicking its tongue, the giant monitor seemed to greet the smaller lizard with what Red Whale could only think of as welcome.

  “Crinoo!” Red Whale gasped. “They like each other!” Indeed, the two monitors did like each other. The presence of the smaller monitor seemed to calm Little Puss completely—and soon Red Whale felt able to take a tentative step toward the two monitors. The smaller monitor was now lying on top of Little Puss�
��s back and both monitors seemed content in each other’s company. Stepping bravely forward, Red Whale cautiously stepped past the two monitors, with neither of the great lizards showing any sign of interest.

  Let the Future Be as It Will

  When the Wrackshees had counted the crew taken captive when they boarded the Daring Dream, the total did not match the list of the crew found in the ship’s logbook. Six of the crew were missing: Red Whale, Fishbum, Katteo Jor’Dane, Roolo Tigg, Bomper Spits, and...also, Bem Madsoor.

  When the battle with the Ogress ended and Red Whale told the crew to take a rest, most of the sea-beasts gratefully followed those orders. Bem, however, rather than drop into her hammock like her comrades, crept quietly to the oar-deck and, pushing open an undamaged oar-port, leaned out into the fresh night air. Breathing in great gulps of fresh air, Bem felt as if her head was clearing for the first time in days. Ninety beasts packed into close quarters, condemned to work and live in the same soaked clothing for days on end, sloshing around in ever-more stinking water, created a mind-bending stench. Breathing fresh air at last, Bem relished the opportunity to be alone and clear her mind of the recent hardships. Pushing a broken plank out through the oar-port, she tied it securely so that she could lie on it, hanging outside the ship in the delightful sea breeze.

  Lying on her back on the plank, Bem lounged lazily, enjoying the fresh night air, and gazing at the amazing show of stars above. During the crisis of the storm, she had not had time to wonder where the storm might carry Daring Dream. Now, however, lying under the stars, Bem realized the ship had been driven a long distance by the wind. As pilot on a Rummer Boar ship she’d gained a solid sense of the relation of sea and land. “Capt’n Gumberpott will take a proper reading and fix our location,” she thought, “but it looks like we’re not far from Port Newolf.” With that thought, Bem flipped over on her stomach, let her arms drop on each side of the plank, and slipped off to sleep.

  She had slept only a short time when she awoke with a start, alert in all her senses. Sensing danger, she slowly lifted her head enough to look around.  In the early morning dawn, she could make out a ring of kayaks and skiffs around the ship. Stealthy figures were tossing grappling hooks over the sides of the ship and rapidly scuttling up ropes to board.  Knowing all the raiders and pirates that cruised these waters, she had no doubt what was happening. Only Wrackshee raiders used kayaks—Daring Dream was being boarded by slavers.

  ZING! STRACKKK! An arrow shot past her, gently grazing the side of her head, and stuck in the side of Daring Dream. Wrackshee archers, providing cover for the boarding party, had spotted her. Rolling off the plank, Bem dropped into the ocean as additional arrows thudded into the ship around her. Just before hitting the water, Bem took in a deep suck of air and flexed her legs to soften the blow in case she hit the rocks.

  SPLASH! Finding that she’d landed where the grounded ship hung clear of the reef, Bem did not surface. Instead, she swam powerfully under the ship to escape targeting by Wrackshee arrows. Clearing the bottom of the ship, Bem continued swimming with all her might, hoping to come up far enough away from the ship to escape notice. Battling against the increasingly urgent need to breathe, Bem continued on, stroke after stroke. At last, lungs bursting, she broke water as quietly as possible, doing all she could to stifle her gasping desire for air.

  To her amazed delight, Bem could see that she’d surfaced some few yards behind the ring of Wrackshee boats! The nearest Wrackshee boat was one of the single-sail skiffs. The archers aboard the skiff had their eyes trained on Daring Dream, bows at the ready, watching for trouble. Bem carefully surveyed the situation. Two Wrackshees in the skiff. The main attack force of Wrackshees was now all at the ship, grappling up the sides. Bem retreated a bit further away from the nearby skiff to wait, watch, and make a plan.

  Within minutes, the surprise attack had been completely successful, and Daring Dream was under Wrackshee control. As the catamarans moved toward the ship to allow the prisoners to be loaded, the skiffs stayed in position, continuing to provide cover. The Wrackshee’s preoccupation with the loading of the prisoners gave Bem the chance she needed. Once again filling her lungs with air, Bem submerged and swam under water until she was once again in front of the skiff. While still under water, she reversed her direction, then surfaced some yards in front of the skiff.

  “How now! Who laughs first?” Bem called out to the surprised archers.

  Looking at her with amazement, the archers kept their bows trained on Bem as she swam toward the skiff. As she reached the skiff, Bem could now see that one of the Wrackshees was tall, bald, and had a twisted nose; the other was shorter with long greasy hair.

  “I said,” Bem called out again, “How now! Who laughs first?—Are ye deaf or don’t you know the counter-sign?”

  Exchanging puzzled glances, the archers lowered their bows, although keeping them at the ready. “No one laughs at the Five Friends!” the Wrackshee with the twisted nose replied.

  “Ah, good!” Bem laughed as she grabbed the side of the skiff. “A Rummer friend requests permission to board,” she said.

  “Permission granted,” the Wrackshee responded, helping Bem climb into the skiff.

  “Where are you from?” the Wrackshee asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m a Rummer—captured in a raid and pretending to play along with those scurvy devils to save my skin. I’m sure grateful that the Wrackshee Friends showed up. Those rats would’a bumped me off sooner or later. So, firsts I see the kayaks comin’ I skedaddle over the side and come to join you.”

  “Ya sure d’ startle us,” the shorter Wrackshee said. “You poppin’ up and spoutin’ out the Five Friends passwords—I thought you were an apparition—some drowned mate Davy Jones tossed back from his Locker!”

  “Nay, I’m naught but meat and bone, like yr’selves!” Bem laughed, happy that her ruse seemed to be working. “I eat n’ drink just like any good sea-beast!”

  “Oh-Ho!” one of the archers exclaimed. “Now wouldn’t it be a pretty thing to have some good food and drink!”

  “Har!” the other agreed. “Why we ain’t had decent victuals since two days ago. And it’ll be another day leasts we see good grub—we’re assigned to guard this here ship ’till the Bozz decides whether to fix her or torch her.”

  “And, mark me words—the Bozz and his gutt-for-brains buddies will eat and drink well tonight, while we sits out here damp and shiverin’. That’s a big lot o’ slaves they’ll be bringin’ to to shore today—lots of eatin’ fine and drinkin’ plenty tonight—for them’s as gets to shore that is. Which won’t be us.”

  “Oh, don’t be so sure about that,” Bem replied. “You say you’re on guard duty tonight? You and who else?”

  “No one else,” the Wrackshee with long greasy hair said. “The Bozz doesn’t expect trouble over a wrecked ship, but he’s not takin’ chances either. We’re just going to keep an eye on things.”

  “And what would ya say if I told you I know where the Capt’n’s special grub and drink are stored?” Bem asked slyly.

  The Wrackshees’ eyes lit up eagerly. “Special grub and drink?” the bald one repeated.

  “Oh, aye,” Bem responded. “Ya don’t think the fine Capt’n eats and drinks like a mere common sea-beast, do ya now? And bein’ so, you don’t think he just let’s any beast know where he keeps his good stuff, now do ya?”

  Overjoyed that the Wrackshees seemed to be entirely taken in by her trickery, Bem spun out a long yarn explaining how it was she knew the whereabouts of the Capt’n’s fine victuals. Her detailed description of the delights enjoyed at the Capt’n’s table nearly caused the hungry Wrackshees to faint away in ecstasy.

  “Nah,” the Wrackshee with the twisted nose suddently said, his smile fading away. “That boarding party over there will pick that ship clean—that’s their job. There won’t be anything of value left—and they’ll eat everything in sight!”

  “The Capt’n’s fine goods won’t
be found, you can be sure of that,” Bem finished. “Unless you know exactly where it is, you’ll never find it. Now, I’m mighty tired,” she said, lying down in the bottom of the skiff. “I’m just going to nap a while. When the ship is empty and you’re ready to head over there and board it, just wake me up and I’ll show you the grub—we’ll have a splendid feast tonight! No one else but us invited!”

  The Wrackshees contendedly settled back at their posts watching the activities on the Daring Dream while Bem pretended to drop off to sleep. Not trusting her companions, however, she only appeared to sleep, wanting only to lie low and stay out of sight from the ship.

  Bem carried on with the pretended nap, tossing and turning and mumbling as if sound asleep, until the Wrackshees cried out, “The red banner! It’s time!”

  One of the Wrackshees, nudging Bem with his foot, said, “Wake up, you lazy varmit! The Bozz’s red banner is flying from the ship. That’s our signal to move in.”

  Still not wanting to show herself to the rest of the Wrackshee force, Bem yawned and rolled over, saying sleepily, “That’s very pretty—but wake me up when it’s time to board.”

  “If you don’t wake then and show us the victuals, we’ll show you no mercy,” the greasy-haired Wrackshee threatened with a chuckle.

  “My mercy’ll show nothing but teeth if ya fools mess up our plan,” Bem said sternly, through a half-yawn. “Now don’t go showin’ so much eagerness that ya make yer mates wonder what they might be missing. No—let’s just move in slowly. So we board when we know the rest are gone. Now, please let me finish my nap—you’ve nearly ruined the best rest I’ve had in weeks.”

  Waving a small red flag, the Wrackshees in the skiff returned the signal from their comrades departing from the Daring Dream. Then, they raised the sail, put the skiff about, and began slowly moving toward the ship.

  The last catamaran was just pulling away from the ship, surrounded by an escort of kayaks, as the skiff came alongside Daring Dream.

  “What prize?” the greasy-haired Wrackshee called to his comrades.

  “Bah! Not a gold coin to be found—only a bit of silver here and there, and that mostly in utensils and cups!” one of the departing Wrackshees responded.

  “No millions on board this old wreck,” another Wrackshee added. “A good haul in slaves, but beyond that, not even a skinny bone to be found to gnaw on. Biscuit—and that soggy—that’s all we found to eat!”

  “Not to worry—you’ll eat well tonight, and sleep snug on shore!” the greasy-haired Wrackshee called out after the departing catamaran. “And thanks to you all for that! Leavin’ us poor seabeasts here in this wreck all by ourselves—with nothin’ to eat but soggy biscuit!”

  “Ah, don’t take it bad,” the Wrackshee on the catamaran called back. “Why that skiff of yours has got plenty of fishhooks! HAR-HAR-HAR! And we left you a bag of dried shark meat and a jug of Bummer Bitters! That’ll tide you over ’till tomorrow. HAR-HAR-HAR!”

  In two minutes more, the skiff was alongside the ship. Grabbing a boarding rope left dangling, the Wrackshee with the twisted nose sprang up the side of Daring Dream, followed by his comrade.

  “Here, mate, tie up the skiff and come on up,” the greasy-haired Wrackshee called down to Bem.

  Making no effort to catch the rope, Bem instead grabbed an oar and pushed off from the ship. As the skiff floated away, she turned the sail to catch the wind. In a few moments the skiff was moving at good speed away from the Daring Dream.

  “Treachery! Rogue and rascal! We’ve been tricked!” the Wrackshees roared, flinging curses after the escaping skiff.

  “Divide my part of the victuals between ya!” Bem called back. “It’s the least I can do ta return yer hospitality!”

  “SLAVE ESCAPING! SLAVE ESCAPING!” the Wrackshees yelled, trying to attract the attention of their comrades in the catamaran.

  “Now don’t ya go blamin’ me,” Bem called back. “You’re the ones as went runnin’ off and left the boat to me—and givin’ me your bows and arrows, too! I can’t thank ya enough. Ah, yes, I’m sure the Bozz will be right pleased with two such fine idiots as yourselves!”

  At hearing Bem’s last comment, the Wrackshees stopped wailing for help, and the gaze of those on the catamaran was toward the shore, not back to the wrecked ship. Bem, in high spirits at the success of her ruse, set her course away from the ship.

  As she watched Daring Dream receed into the distance, she turned her thoughts toward what she could do to help its enslaved crew. She knew she could not directly take on the Wrackshees. Needing a plan, she decided the best thing was to sail down the coast for a distance to safeguard her escape and think. Whatever came her way would be whatever came her way. Let her future be as it would be.

  Bem Madsoor In Command

  Bigger Black leaned against the rail of the forecastle of the Lost Hope, Sabre Tusk d’Newolf’s flagship, thinking. The lapping of waves and the sound of a shipmate playing an accordian were the only sounds. A sea chart lay unrolled before him.

  “Hey, Big Man, what are you looking at?” It was his messmate, Haf-Tusk.

  “Haf, keep it down!” Bigger was deeply annoyed.

  “So Sabre Tusk is gone?” Haf-Tusk asked.

  “Yeah, he’s gone to shore to see what’s up with the group he spotted there. But don’t you get any ideas—I’m not crossing Sabre Tusk on your account.”

  “Hey, Big Man, just calm down. I’m not crossing His Tuskiness. Let’s just say there’s possibilities.”

  “What possibilities?” Bigger said coldly. “You know I don’t want trouble.”

  “So Bem almost got the job done—”  Bigger did not let Haf finish.

  “Bem! What about her? Can’t we just forget about her? We’re lucky the rest of us didn’t end up in the ocean like she did.”

  “Whoa, there, Big Man—you’re right. There’s no point thinking about what might have been if the mutiny had succeeded. But, interesting isn’t it—you have nothing to do with sailing this ship, but here you are studying that sea chart like you’re going somewhere.”

   “O.K.,” Bigger answered. “You were almost a hero. But you ended up in irons and just short of His Tuskiness throwing you to the sharks. And, oh, yeah, I almost forgot—you and Bem nearly got the rest of us killed, just for good measure. So, forgive me if I don’t too get excited when you have some new idea. But, no way the crew’s happy, so—sure—I’m thinking. That doesn’t make me crazy enough to follow another hare-brained scheme of yours—but, you got guts and I trust you—what possibilities you got in mind?”

  There was a long silence. “We go for it, Big Man. Now. The crew has had it with His Tuskiness—I’m sure they’d go with us if we put the question to them. Sabre Tusk and his goons are on shore. We raise sail and get the blazes out of here.”

  “I hope you can sail this thing better than I can,” Haf-Tusk said. “Sabre Tusk always takes the navigator with him when he goes ashore—he doesn’t want no one thinkin’ of leavin’ while he’s gone.” 

  “Haf!” Bigger Black suddenly exclaimed, “See that skiff off yonder—looks to be headin’ toward us. What do you make of it?”

  Haf-Tusk took out a small spyglass he kept in his pocket and peered at the skiff. “Take a look!” Haf said, handing the glass to Bigger.

  “Bem Madsoor!” Bigger exploded. “She’s alive!”

  “And likely comin’ to avenge herself,” Haf added.

  “Regardless of why she’s comin’,” Bigger replied, “it’s a powerful, powerful omen!”

  “Too dangerous to wait for her,” Haf said excitedly. “If His Tuskiness sees a skiff coming to Lost Hope, he’ll be back here in a flash. Call the crew to us—we act now!”

  “What you talkin’ quiet and sneaky about up there?” The unexpected question startled Bigger and Haf and they whirled around, instantly on the defensive.

  “Just saw you two talking secret-like up here in the fo’castle,” Fat-Mouth said. “What’s up?”
/>
  “Fat,” Bigger Black responded, looking relieved, “you startled us—but, that’s OK. We were actually just talking about you.”

  “You were?” Fat replied.

  “Sure,” Bigger said. “See that skiff out there? The beast in it is Bem Madsoor! She’s comin’ here to take over the ship—finish the work she started earlier. Now I know you were with her last time—just like Haf and I were. Sure as we’re all here together, her comin’ back from bein’ a dead beast is a sign that the time’s run out for Sabre Tusk and his goons. We don’t know if Bem’s comin’ with angels or demons at her back, but a dead beast showin’ up is an omen. We say it means take the ship!”

  “I’m in,” Fat-Mouth responded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You’ve the biggest talker on the ship,” Bigger said with a smile. “We want you to go quick as speedin’ cutlass slash to every beast on the ship and tell ’em Bem Madsoor wants them on the main deck double quick.”

  “That will get their attention,” Fat-Mouth chuckled.

  “And tell ’em to keep the noise down,” Haf added. “We can’t give His Tuskiness any hint about what’s up.”

  “Aye!” Fat-Mouth said.

  Moving quickly around the ship, Fat-Mouth quickly spread the message. Within minutes, the Lost Hope crew filled the main deck, casting astonished looks toward the skiff approaching the ship.

  Standing on the steps leading up to the forecastle, Bigger and Haf looked out across their shipmates. Exchanging a determined look, Bigger stepped forward.

  “Mates,” he began, “Bem Madsoor is returning to the Lost Hope. Whether she’s a dead beast come back to life or not we don’t know. But she’s comin’ and she’ll be steppin’ onto this very deck in a few minutes.” Bigger paused, allowing the impact of his words to sink in.

  “I say by brain and heart, we owe three cheers to Bem Madsoor! I say we call her Capt’n Madsoor as she comes aboard and pledge our lives and future to her!” He looked around at his mates, seeing the face of each sea-beast take on a look that said, ‘AYE!’ without saying anything.

  Then one sea-beast in the back called out, “THREE CHEERS FOR BEM MADSOOR!”

  “THREE CHEERS FOR BEM MADSOOR!” another responded.

  “THREE CHEERS FOR BEM MADSOOR!” yet another called.

  “Well then, you silly sea-beasts, give the blasted cheers for her!” Bigger yelled.

  “HUZZAH-HUZZAH-HUZZAAAUH!” the crew called out in a tumultuous yell.

  Within a few minutes, the skiff came alongside, and Bem Madsoor sprang on board. Known to every sea-beast aboard the Lost Hope, either by serving together, or by legend, Bem was warmly welcomed. “HUZZAH-HUZZAH! HUZZAH-HUZZAH-HUZZAH!”

  Everything was confusion for a few minutes, as the crew surged around Bem. Some, no doubt, wanted to touch her to assure themselves she was a real, living, flesh-and-blood sea-beast. Most, however, merely wanted to congratulate her on her safe return and pledge their loyalty to their new captain.

  After taking in the situation and expressing her joy at seeing her shipmates again, Bem calmly gave orders. “Hottin’ the briny cup!” she said, calling on the cook to heat up pots of Seafoam Mutter for the crew to enjoy. “The rest of you—up sails, we’re leaving immediately.”

  Turning to one of the youngest sea-beasts, Printy, she asked, “want to take a turn at the wheel and sail us out of here?”

  “Yes, Captain!”

  “Good! Bring ’er ’round, then keep ’er toward that point of land on the horizon.”

  “Where’re we going, Captain?”

  “First, we’re leavin’ Sabre Tusk to ’is own troubles. He’s made ’nough troubles for other beasts—let ’im take it in ’is own chops for awhile. Next, we’re goin’ to see about helpin’ some friends in trouble.”

  “Who’s in trouble, Captain?”

  “Well, as I’m seein’ it,” Bem replied with a smile, “the mates on this ship are rascals as most beasts see’s ya. So, there’s no goin’ to Port Newolf for a rest. First thing’s we gotta get you far away to new lands that’s not knowin’ ya—then, once we’s away from here, we’ll make some plans. For now, firsts firsts, we spend some time forgettin’ about Sabre Tusk. Set a course that takes us out o’ sight of Port Newolf—then, before dark we’ll cut back in down the coast a piece. I want to check over the ship for a long voyage—then we’ll set off for far horizons.”

  “Aye, Capt’n!”

  A Memorable Feast

  The long column of escapees from Mis’tashe and their liberators marched haphazardly through lengthening shadows cast by the mountains as the sun began its decent. The mountains, however, were not high and forbidding, but more like a staircase descending to some yet invisible landing. No one among the troop of beasts was familiar with the landscape or knew exactly where they were heading. The most seasoned beasts in the group had decided that it was best to simply escape by the most obvious route as rapidly as possible, hoping for the best.

  “By the Ancients!” Helga exclaimed as she walked along, “that was a near miss!”

  “What’s amiss?” Christer asked.

  “Ayeeiii! Christer!” Helga snorted in disgust. “Are you not conscious of how narrowly we’ve escaped? Why, with you and that Darin’ Dream crew makin’ silly and loud as brainless twits, it’s a miracle we’re not already back in chains! Don’t you know you were runnin’ around and hollerin’ at the top of your lungs—and there’s Captain Gumberpott and the rest who had a lick of good sense, tryin’ to make you hear and get us all safely away from Mis’tashe, while you were callin’ attention to us like hammer and gongs! I swear, if the Creation depended on the likes of you for smarts, we’d be about equal to worms guzzlin’ dirt!”

  Christer, walking beside Helga, turned his face toward her and, with wide eyes nearly overflowing with fake tears, wailed sorrowfully, “My mouth! My mouth! I’ve sunk into my mouth and can’t get out! Save me! Oh, Miss Scold-Me-Again, please save me! I’m jabberin’ and can’t stop!” Breaking into laughter, Christer gave Helga a playful punch in the arm.

  “Will you hush up!” Helga fumed. “Don’t you understand we’re still in danger?”

  “Oh, okay,” Christer replied with a smile. “I do understand—it’s just so hard not to want to tease you. You’re so pretty when you’re unpleasant.”

  “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Helga said, looking at Christer with raised eyebrows. “If it was, it’s a bit like being told, ‘I don’t notice your smelly feet because your looks make up for them!’”

  Christer, realizing he’s pushed his teasing about as far as was wise, scratched his chin and thought a moment. Then he said, “You’re absolutely right, Helga. I’ll be quiet, just like I was near death and not likely to recover. It’ll not tease, nor tempt you to be unpleasant—for a few minutes or so. How’s that? Better?”

  Sighing, Helga looked at her friend and shook her head. “Chister, Christer, Christer, what am I going to do with you? Here we are struggling through the mountains, hoping against hope to stay out of the way of Wrackshees, Rummer Boars, and whatever else Milky Joe will likely be sendin’ after us, and all you can do is tease me?”

  “Correction,” Christer replied with a grin, “all I want to do is tease you! I could stop if I wanted.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Helga replied. “I think you’re naturally silly.”

  “Have a little—” Christer began.

  “Patience?” Helga completed the sentence.

  “You aren’t ever gonna be patient while your friends are in danger,’’ Christer said with a chuckle. “It’s like you’ve got this urgency to help beasts in trouble that—well, like you just can’t quit on it ’till it’s done—about like when you gotta take a leak and nothing else will do until it’s complete.”

  “Christer!” Helga exclaimed. “Do you have no good manners either? And besides, I know you well enough now to think that you’re really about as urgent about getting everyone out of this mes
s as I am.”

   “Yes,” he said. “It’s only walkin’ along mile after mile, and thinkin’ how much fun it is to be with you, that gets me actin’ like such a perfect fool sometimes. What I’d be doin’ if you weren’t here is walk along, thinkin’ and worryin’ about what I can do next when I can’t do nothin’ right now—so that just leads to me walkin’ along, kickin’ rocks, and wearin’ out my boots for no good reason.”

  “Oh, never mind,’’ Helga laughed. “I know you’re basically a decent beast and I’d probably be walking along kicking rocks, too, if you weren’t here pestering me!’’

  “The sea!” Red Whale called, sending the message back down the line. The troop of beasts was advancing along a dry stream bed which cut deeply among the mountains. For those back along the line, there was nothing to see for several hundred feet except the same old rocks and trees. But for Red Whale and the beasts near the front of the column, the view widened out, revealing what was surely the Great Sea sparkling in the rich glow of early evening.

  The pace of the weary beasts picked up as those in the front rushed to find their way down to the sea and those at the rear pushed forward to gain their first glimpse of the discovery. As more and more of the seacoast became visible, a long sandy beach came into view.

  At first, in the deepening shadows of dusk, the beach appeared empty. But Red Whale, lumbering along at the head of the line of beasts, seemed to make out some faint movement on the still-distant shoreline—not unlike beasts coming ashore in a longboat!

  “Crinoo! Zarr!” Red Whale cursed. “Rummer Boars again! Could our luck be any worse?”

  Keeping his thoughts to himself for the moment, Red Whale motioned for the column to stop. Still providing no explanation, Red Whale directed his comrades to take a rest, while he continued his advance toward the beach to take a look. Red Whale wanted to investigate the nature of the beasts coming ashore while his comrades were still far up the mountainside and able to easily retreat if a threat existed. He did not have long to wait for more information.

  A light, like the faint strike of a match, flashed on the beach, setting a torch ablaze. The brilliant light of the torch revealed a dozen Rummer Boars walking up the beach from their longboat.

  “HALLOOO!” Red Whale cried out loudly, causing a great startle and stir among his comrades resting some distance behind.

  “HALLOOO! OVER HERE, BEM MADSOOR! HALLLOOOO!” Red Whale yelled. For, indeed, it was none other than Bem Madsoor leading the Rummer Boars on the beach.

  A mass of beasts surged toward Red Whale from behind, as everyone quickened the pace down toward the beach. Nearly a mob by the time their feet hit the sand, the happy beasts whooped and hollered on all sides. The Daring Dream crew rejoiced to be reunited with Bem Madsoor and jabbered endless questions about how she came to be captain of a Rummer Boar ship. For their part, the crew of the Lost Hope followed their captain and took part in the general celebrating. Helga, Christer, and the others, always glad to join a hearty welcome for new friends gave slaps on the back and broad smiles all around.

  “These beasts must be hungry and thirsty,” Bem said. “And I’ve got seabeasts back on the ship who are surely wondering what is going on! Let me signal them to come ashore and bring provisions for a feast!”

  The memorable feast given by Bem Madsoor on the beach that night sealed the friendship of many beasts and clans so long separated by the vast Voi-Nil and previously unknown to one another.  From the personal stores of His (former) Tuskiness, Sabre Tusk d’Newolf, Bem and her crew served Red Whale’s crew previously unknown delicacies:

  Lizard Patties in Tambon’t

  Crabee Shark Knuckles with Crabee Broth

  Puree of Honey-Wolloper

  Broiled Pears and Whisker Grass

  Fresh-Caught, Roast Salmon, Bathed in Butter

  A Whole Shark, Larded on the Spit

  Lizard Steaks or Baked Snake

  Pickled Eels

  Snake Egg Pie

  Sweet –Tweet Cake

  Twice Shot-Through Creams

  Hot Peskee Tea

  There was much to celebrate. The Daring Dream crew was safely reunited and voted to abandon the wreckage of the Daring Dream in favor of accepting an offer from the Lost Hope crew to come aboard their much larger vessel as shipmates. To the loud cheers of both crews, Red Whale and Bem Madsoor proposed a voyage back to Lord Farseeker’s realms, returning the Daring Dream crew home and fulfilling Lord Farseeker’s hopes of learning what lay beyond the Voi-Nil. Red Whale assured Bem and her crew that the good Lord Farseeker would have many a voyage to keep them sailing. Cries of “HUZZAH-HUZZAH-HUZZAH” from both crews accepted Bem and Red Whale’s proposal to serve as Co-Captains for the voyage home. Signaling the end of Sabre Tusk d’Newolf’s raiding, his Rummer raiders’ new policy of honest sailing and fair dealing toward all, and the exchange of lost hope for new dreams among his crew, the name of Bem’s new flagship became Daring Dream II.

  For their part, Helga and her parents rejoiced in the end of their long separation, and enjoyed their many new friends. In particular, Helbara and Breister observed the new friendship between Helga and Christer with their own happy smiles, seeing in the young beast’s faces a look of affection that they well understood. The happiness of their family’s reunion, however, also emphasized the continuing absence of Emil. There would be no comfortable settling into a new home until her son was reunited with them.

  Facing this uncertain future, the Wood Cows were glad for BorMane’s promise to provide them company and help. The brave and worldly-wise old Coyote, deciding at last to retire from the sea, pledged to remain with the Wood Cow clan wherever they went.

  “But first we have to visit the Rounds,” Helga reminded her parents. “I want us all to know Elbin and Sareth and all the rest of my ‘other’ family!” Anticipating the joyous welcome that Helga would receive on her return to the Rounds, Toshty insisted that such a special occasion should be shared by Helga and her parents alone. It was agreed that BorMane and Christer would first accompany Toshty and Annie to Toshty’s cabin, before going on to meet the others in the Rounds.

  To everyone’s delight that evening, BorMane said farewell to his sea-faring days by telling endless stories about his travels and adventures. Entertaining and full of adventure, the stories proved to everyone’s satisfaction that the world was one globe, with a single immense sea beckoning all beasts to find one another. Red Whale, memorizing BorMane’s stories as he heard them yet again, was confident that he was bringing back more than enough information for Lord Farseeker to offset the loss of Daring Dream—plus the even grander Daring Dream II and its worthy captain and crew.

  With a starry night sky blazing above the happy feast and the ship’s band playing, there was little reason to wonder about the fate of other characters that had played a role in bringing all these beasts together.

  It would not be fair, however, to end this account without paying some attention to a lone figure who, some days later, hurried along a twisted old road leading up into the mountains not far from Norder Crossings. The narrow, abandoned pathway, unused since a more direct route was built, passed through an ugly and forsaken land of badly eroded slopes, scraggly bushes, and dark, muddy streams. Scattered here and there, small, dirty houses fell down into piles of rubble, their past inhabitants fleeing long ago to more prosperous areas.

  Colonel Snart’s disguise fit well with these surroundings: A rough filthy cloak, pulled tight around his neck, had a large hood hanging far forward over his head, completely hiding his face. Wearing cheap traveler’s boots and threadbare cotton pants and shirt, a common peddler’s satchel hung from his shoulder. He made his way along the rough track, muttering to himself.

  “Ha! Nobody interested in a poor old peddler, more ragged than the riff-raff I send off to Tilk Duraow! And this old road can’t take a proper wagon anymore, and the land’s ruined, so no one likes to be comin’ up here. Ha! Why, I can just slip into one of these t
ottering old houses and lie low just as long as I like.”

  Keeping on a bit longer, the Monopole finally picked out a collapsing house with its fallen chimney nearly blocking the door, and climbed over the piles of rubble to get inside. “Ha! Just the sort of perfect neglect and decay that I need for my temporary abode! Not a beast anywhere that would likely take interest in a place like this. Looking with approval at the filthy, broken windows and nearly destroyed roof, the Colonel chuckled with pleasure, “The rains are over so don’t need a good roof—and the more wrecked the place is, the less likely I’ll have company coming to visit. I could probably live here for years and no one would notice. Yes, this place is perfect.”

  Alas for the Colonel, however, he was overheard by a young Wolf working behind the house. It was, in fact, the very Wolf cursed by the Monopole a few days before in Norder Crossings! Hearing the Colonel’s words, the young Wolf thought, with a glow of good humor, of his encounter with the Monopole a few days earlier. He had heard that things had not gone well for Colonel Snart since that time. Outraged Norder Crossings merchants, ruined by the loss of the caravan to the Godgie Stomp, had forced the Monopole to flee in order to save his skin. Not satisfied to run the Monopole of Caravans out of Norder Crossings, the merchants had hired a Wild-Vile Cat bounty hunter and two Skull Buzzards to hunt the Monopole down and return him for punishment. Rumor had it that the slave traders in Port Newolf also were so furious over the Monopole’s recent role in the loss of a large and valuable lot of slaves that they were also after the Colonel with torches and swords. Even the High One was whispered to have denounced his brother over the losses he had caused.  The young Wolf instantly understood why the Monopole might be traveling in abandoned country seeking a place to hide out.

  Quickly forming a plan in his mind, the Wolf stuck his head through a rear window of the house and said, “Well, well, dear Colonel, what brings you out to my place? I don’t get much company, so having you show up, why, I’m astonished at the honor you pay me!”

  Falling backward in surprise, Colonel Snart stammered out a reply: “Why, no, dear beast! You’ve got the wrong beast! You’ve made a mistake! I’m a simple peddler, new to the area, whose trying to find his way across the mountains. I was just stopping a moment to rest and then I’ll be on my way—don’t mean to trouble you at all.”

  “Why, it’s sure enough Colonel Snart,” the young Wolf replied with a laugh. “Would it be possible that I’d mistake him? Do you really think so? Why, such a picture I have of you nearly getting snip-snap-gulped by that monitor a few days ago! Why, how would I forget such a figure as that—even not considering the unkind words the Colonel spoke against me! No, I don’t reckon I’m mistaken who my visitor is!”

  “Then you’re a fool in full flower!” the Monopole replied. “And a rude, disgusting clod to boot!”

  “Not I,” the Wolf replied with a smile. “I’m a farmer, but I have nothing to do with flowers. I raise clover and honeybees—trying to bring these hills back to life. And, if you’d look, I’m rebuilding this house you complain at so wildly. Land and house are abandoned and free—which doesn’t look foolish to me.”

  “I still call you an empty-brained slug!” the Monopole snarled, picking up his pack to leave.

  “Well,” the Wolf replied, “since you aren’t Colonel Snart, let’s go back to where I came in and try again. I don’t want us to part with bad feelings. That’s not the way my Memm taught me to be towards strangers.”

  “Bah! Just let me out of here!” the Monopole said. “I’ve got a long way to go and the best thing you could do is just to let me get going on my way.”

  “Be my guest,” the Wolf replied, “I’m certainly not holdin’ you up. But, my Memm would want me to offer you a kindly suggestion—a bit of apology for mistakin’ you for someone else.”

  “Bah! So what’s the grand wisdom you want to give me?”

  “Just that you’ll save yourself a cold overnight in the mountains if you take the shortcut through Haz’ben Gulch—that’s the trail following that creek just up ahead there. Take the trail left, follow the creek, and your journey through the mountains will be done faster than you expected.”

  Without saying more, Colonel Snart threw his satchel over his shoulder, climbed back out of the ruined house, and walked off down the road.

  The young Wolf watched as the Colonel walked down the road. Seeing that the Monopole took his suggestion and turned down the path at Haz’ben Gulch, a broad smile spread across his face. Returning to his work, he muttered happily to himself.

  “Right sorry, Memm, if I was not completely honest with that fellow. You taught me right, and I did make a kindly suggestion to a ‘lost traveler,’ as you’d want. I really was truthful that taking the shortcut down the Gulch would shorten his journey and avoid a cold night in the mountains. Now, yes, that is because I knew he’d be nabbed by the bounty hunter—but, nevertheless, I was truthful in the strict sense of things. Why, I wasn’t required to tell him that the Wild-Vile Cat and the Skull Buzzards were here looking for him a while ago—or that I sent them down there to set up camp along the creek. They was already figurin’ he might be comin’ up this way—and, well, it is a nice place to camp. And, bless you, Memm, I also just figured that you really would want me to introduce that fellow to the bounty hunter. Seems like something you’d have wanted. Now, I think I’d better get on with my work, Memm, before I start imagining the tracker beasts jumping the Colonel and then him later up there breaking rock at Tilk Duraow. That would be too much fun on a day when there’s work to be done!”

  Epilogue

  As the Sweet Ice bowls emptied on the evening of Helga’s return to the Rounds, not a single Roundie was absent. Sharing the Sweet Ice together expressed the soul of the Roundie community, and on this special night that spirit was especially strong.

  A gentle evening breeze rustled through the cottonwood leaves as the Roundies settled down in happy, full-bellied contentment to listen to Holy Speak storytellers, as was traditional on occasions of great import. The Gather Round itself seemed too constraining for such a joyous occasion, and the storytelling occurred in the cottonwood grove just beyond the Commons. As the Roundies gathered, Ayatama Cornnello played her little accordion and began to sing while Rostom, her brother, played his fiddle. The happy music seemed to send sparkling ripples across the Deep Springs River, echoing off the hills; then falling into silence when Bernice Saysoso, the most elder Holy Speak storyteller at the Rounds, stood up and raised her hand.

  “Dear friends,” she began, “as the last sunlight gleams from the far side of the hills, leaving us for another day, we gather to honor our own spark of light that has returned to us. Helga, who left the Rounds some years ago as an apprentice carpenter, has returned—this time with her parents—and tonight we celebrate her presence once more among us.

  “Some might say that the story Helga has to tell is too fantastic to be true. Let us rely on our own ancient wisdom and draw what assurance we seek from it. The spirit of The All within each of us can discern a truthful account of things we did not previously know how to hear. This is the teaching of the Holy Speak and the belief of the ancient generations...What if our dear Helga has found something new? What if? This is the story we have for you tonight.”

  Amidst the deepening shadows, cedar oil lamps were lit and cast a soft yellow light across the expectant crowd. Many questions lay hidden within Helga’s mind and heart as she prepared to speak. Where to begin? How to tell a story that had so many beginnings?

  As the children to gather around her, Helga picked up Alvo Merrybuck, a wee Prairie Dog babe. “Mampy-Helg!” Alvo wailed loudly, “Start at the beginning! Tell about how you came to the Roundies! Start there!”

  Giving the little Prairie Dog a ruffle on the head, Helga smiled, “Not this time, Alvo, that will have to be another day...But you’ll like what I’ve got to tell tonight, anyway. Do you like explosions? And Grizzly Bear trackers going after bandits?” Helga
winked at Toshty and Annie who were seated together at the front of the crowd.

  “Ooooo! Yes!” Alvo squealed. “Tell about that!” Helga held the little babe close. “Well, you little scamp, if you would just quiet down a bit so a body could talk...Why, I’ll get started!”

  Turning to the assembled Roundies, and casting a fond look toward Helbara, Breister, Christer, and BorMane, Helga began her tale. Stooping to pick up some sand, she let the grains sift back to the ground in a falling stream of particles catching firelight. “Stories are like that sparkling rain of sand,” she began. “There are many stories and I don’t know them all. Tonight I only have time to tell you a few—like the few grains of sand that remain behind, clinging to me.”

  End of Volume I

  To Be Continued.

  From The Author

  As an author, I’m drawn to eccentric, unexpected characters: those who surprise because they hear a distant galaxy, see a different music, create their own fragrance rather than get hooked on a soundtrack; the child who has her own ideas about how the emperor is dressed; the lunatics and rebels who tell stories on the boundaries. I seek to write unusual stories that take readers to worlds they never imagined—a whole new ride.

  One of the attractions of writing fantasy is that it forces us to experiment with “beyond the box” thinking. Imagination is often the only tool we have in breaking through the barriers or chains that limit our possibilities. Running on imagination, our minds and hearts are no longer bound by such “obvious” constraints as common sense, the speed of light, or prejudices of mind.

  A natural relative of fantasy is the sense of humor, and need to play, that are part of human nature. Like fantasy, humor is a matter of skewing how we look, and re-look, at things we normally take for granted. In my writing, I use fantasy and humorous absurdity to poke holes in the expectations cultures create to keep things in their place.

  Fantasy, including the idea that cows might think, talk, and are proper heroines—perhaps encourages us to wonder about other creatures, people, and dimensions of thought that “common sense” keeps us from hearing and seeing. Possibly, we may even discover that there are cows within ourselves waiting to speak and be heroic. Our capacity to hear things that are, in our “common sense” world, unheard and unheard of, is one of the degrees of freedom we can preserve for ourselves and offer to others. And, for children—kids of all ages—these degrees of freedom are precious and worth nurturing. That is why I write.

 

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