by Robyn Fraser
“We’re great, thanks,” said Rose. She nodded at the painting. “Nice work.”
“Thanks, my friend. It’s for Queen Juliana when she returns to save us all from the Concretians.” The cow smiled. “I bet she’s on her way now, in fact. You know the spell drops later tomorrow, eh?”
Rose nodded and passed Dean a sideways glance, which Dean took to mean ‘don’t say anything about anything.’ “Queen Juliana will come through, I’m sure,” said Rose. “Well, you have a good day.”
“You too,” said the cow, then returned to the painting, mooing a little happy tune.
As they neared Magus Manor the roads became more densely packed with houses, and they were greeted by no less than a dozen folks—some humanish, others cat or lizard or kangaroo or some unrecognizable-to-Dean type of being. They all spoke with nervous anticipation of Dean’s mom’s return to Illusiland to save them all. No one seemed to be doing anything in particular to prepare for an invasion.
“Rose,” said Dean as they wound their way along the curving path toward Magus Manor, which was at the top of a long hill, “I know we don’t know what my mother has left for me, but it’s Sunday afternoon and you said that the spell breaks at 4:18pm tomorrow. It’s hard to imagine that once I get her instructions I’m going to have time to do whatever it is she needs me to do.” Dean stopped in their tracks and turned to their chicken friend. “I mean, there’s no hope, is there?”
Rose stopped too and looked up at Dean. “I don’t know, D. I really don’t know. All I do know is that your mother told me to get you to Percival Portescue so that he could give you something.” She looked away, shaking her head. “I also know my stupid plan to get myself killed and stuck in your freezer is what has messed things up. I lost us seven weeks doing that. If Mr. Sactual invades Concreta, it’s basically all my fault.” Tears were dripping down her cheek feathers.
“Don’t say that, Rose,” said Dean. “It’s only because of you that I’m here at all. And anyway, I might actually have an idea. But we have to get to Percival first. Let’s go.”
In truth, Dean’s idea was little more than an abstract thought or two, like when an author wants to write a novel, but has only the outline of a character, or a climax, or a single scene, or maybe, though this is really a stretch, (and not something this author has any familiarity with) just a book title. Which is to say, it wasn’t much at the moment, but it was the start of something that could be big.
They continued on, two stoic beings, determined to do their best even though they knew the dismal odds against them. Dean’s mood was momentarily lifted as they took in the artsy grandeur of the Manor—it was huge and rambling, with crooked five-storey turrets, doors made of glass and sugar icing, vines and stones and living trees for walls.
Images of what must have been a representation of many of the beings of Illusiland were etched into these outer walls—some life-like, others abstract. Sculptures dotted the wildflower-strewn lawns and a giraffe-ish person waltzed across the greens in a clown costume, doing somersaults and cartwheels and generally entertaining a large group of child and adult beings who were watching. It all seemed so happy and calm that Dean almost forgot about their impending doom. They certainly wished they could forget, like these folks were clearly doing.
They reached the circular glass front door and Rose pressed a wing onto a small flat panel a few feet up from the ground. A smoky cloud appeared in the glass and the image of a white-faced rabbit with large canine teeth appeared. “Who wants entr…oh, Rose, it’s you!” said the face, its pink, pointed eyebrows rising in surprise. “Come on in. Percival is in the Queen’s Room.”
“Thanks, April,” said Rose as the door opened inward. “This way, D.”
Rose led Dean across a grand foyer filled with hanging ornaments, sculptures and decoupage. They made a rightish turn along a decidedly unstraight hallway, following its twists and turns and ups and downs, climbing a tall flight of stairs and butt-sliding down a ramp and then, finally, arriving at a closed wooden door with a life-sized etching of someone who looked almost exactly like Dean’s mother. Dean would have been more certain it was their parent except that, in the image, the woman was smiling and looked happy and their mother never did or seemed either. At least not at home, when Dean could see her.
Rose knocked on the door. “Percival?” she called. “It’s me, Rose. I’m back. With Queen Juliana’s daugh—” She glanced at Dean. “Sorry, D,” she whispered. Then, louder, “I mean Queen Juliana’s child is here.” Rose nodded once at Dean. Dean’s chest swelled with gratitude.
The door opened almost immediately and an eight-foot tall porpoise, dressed in a sequined pink gown with white ballet slippers on each tip of his tail fin, stepped forward, kneeled down and gave Rose a smothering hug. “Thank dog you’re here,” he said, standing back up, straightening the sparkly tiara on his head and ushering them inside. “I’d almost given up hope.”
The room was filled with bright sunlight, which streamed in through the multiple windows in the walls and sloped ceilings. The air smelled sweet, like a candy shop. Toys were scattered all around—on the floor, on tabletops, on the comfy-looking green couch over to one side. Directly ahead sat a big, bright red desk. Percival gestured for Dean and Rose to take the beanbag chairs in front of it and he sat on a similar chair on the far side.
“So you’re Princey Deanna, are you?” asked Percival, extending a silvery fin over the messy desk to shake Dean’s hand. They took it. It was sticky.
“Yes, I am,” they said, “but I’m kind of going by Dean right now.” There. They’d said it. Dean also considered challenging the Princey label; it seemed kind of weird and hierarchical. But they thought maybe they’d leave that for some other time. “And, though I’m sure it’s very nice to meet you and I don’t want to be rude, we don’t have much time and Rose said that my mother left something for me?”
Percival nodded his large head. “Yes, Dean, she did.” He pushed himself up from the chair and glanced around the room. “Now, where did I put it? I took it out of the wall safe just last week to make sure it was still there,” he pointed to a round, very solid-looking steel door in the wall behind him, “and then I put it somewhere else so that I’d remember where it was.” He scratched his head. “Ah yes.” He sashayed over to a small table in one corner, a Lego-like castle sitting on it.
“I thought it would be safest in the castle. You know, extra fortifications and all that.” He chuckled as he reached in through the open ceiling of the structure and pulled out an envelope. Dean failed to see how that hiding spot was more secure than the wall safe, but decided not to point this out.
“For you, Princey,” he said, handing Dean the envelope. It had a purple waxy seal with an infinity sign pressed into it, which was keeping it closed. “I’ve never even thought about opening it,” continued Percival. “As per Queen Juliana’s instructions, you are to be the first to read this.”
“Thank you,” said Dean. Their heart was beating quickly and their palms were wet with sweat. Should they open it alone? Go to another room? Ask the others to leave? No, there wasn’t time.
They tore open the envelope, breaking the seal.
There was a single sheet of paper inside.
Dean unfolded it and read:
My Dearest Deanna,
I am so sorry that I have had to involve you in such a serious task. And at such a young age—only eleven years old! You must be so big. But I should get to the point. As you will know by now, I cast a spell protecting all of Magitoria from Mr. Sactual and the Concreta Control Corps. Since you are reading this, that means the spell will be ending in some time less than the next seven weeks and seven days, depending on how long it took Rose to find you and how quick your journey was through Illusiland to Magus Manor.
What I need from you now is to read the following verse, return to our Mundaland home, follow the poem’s instructions and set me and your father free from our forgetting potion so that I may return to Mag
itoria to recast the spell.
Crimson blood packed in black stone,
Place in my hand to bring me home.
Recite your trip through Illusiland
Remember all the detail you can.
End with this phrase amongst trinity
“I love you until________”
As you can see, my dear Deanna, this verse is coded and personalized so that only you may be able to release your father and me from the potion. As it will take me two weeks to recast the spell, I beg of you to make haste in your return to me. Not for my and your father’s sake, but for the sake of all Magitorians.
I love you, Deanna.
See you soon.
Mom.
“So, D, what does it say?” asked Rose. She was glancing wide-eyed at Dean.
Dean shook their head, trying to keep tears from welling up. “Basically, it says I was right. We’re doomed.” They passed the paper to their friend. “My mother’s plan was to recast the spell and she said it would take two weeks. We don’t even have two days.” Dean didn’t actually understand the poem, but right now it hardly mattered.
The tears overflowed now, partly due to a feeling of defeat, partly exhaustion, but mostly from reading the words ‘I love you’. Dean couldn’t remember their mother ever saying that to them.
Rose scanned the page, her face falling. “You’re right, D. What are we going to do?” She looked up at the porpoise, who was leaning against the desk, and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Percival. It took me too long to find Deanna—sorry! (She glanced briefly at Dean) I mean Dean—in Mundaland and now there’s not enough time for them to return there. It’s all my fault.”
Percival covered his eyes with a fin. “But…but…it can’t be too late. All of Magitoria has been waiting for Queen Juliana’s return. We’re all counting on it. We haven’t prepared for anything else.”
He pointed to a long row of differently colored pillows that were beside the far wall. Each one was circled by a hula hoop of the same color and had a sign posted above it: Mundaland North, Mundaland South, West Dehyrdated Desert, East Fantabulous Forest, South Moldy Marshes, NW Slightly Silly Sea, SW Slightly Silly Sea…there were more. “If you need to get back to our Queen and her King by Marriage, Princey, what if you use an emergency transporter to get to there?” He was staring desperately at Dean. “It will save you a lot of time.”
Dean wiped their wet eyes with the backs of their hands and turned to Rose. “Is that like the slide at my school that took us into the Juggernaut Jungle?”
Rose nodded. “Yes, just like that. But even using one of these to get to Mundaland won’t give your mother enough time to get back and complete the protective spell.” She shook her head. “No, we’re definitely doomed.”
There was anxious silence for several minutes, but Dean barely noticed.
Their mind was busy filling in the outline of their plan. With the new knowledge of the transporters, they’d gone from a book title to several scene concepts. There’d be no time for rewrites, however; they had to make sure they worked together to complete the story in the first draft. And, of course, there were still many gaps to fill in. But the more Dean thought and imagined, the more confident they were that they could do it.
“Percival?”
“Yes, Princey?
“Do you have any grey cells? You know, the kind where you can talk to people far away?” Clarification seemed like a good idea with the porpoise.
Percival nodded. “Yes, I do. The Manor keeps a half-dozen somewhere for emergencies.” He glanced around the room and scratched his head. “No, I just can’t think where they’d be. Wait, I know! I’ll ask April. She knows everything.”
He skipped over to one of the glass windows and knocked on it. The face of the rabbit who let them in the front door appeared.
“You know I’m on lunch, don’t you?” she said with a frown, then pointed a white furry paw in the direction of Dean and Rose. “If I didn’t know these two had come to see you, I wouldn’t have bothered answering.”
Percival nodded his head with vigor, causing his tiara to slide crookedly. “Yes, yes, so sorry, April, but we have a very important question to ask you.”
“Well, get on with it then.”
“Yes, yes.” Percival scratched his head again, felt his slanted tiara and straightened it. “Ummm…” He turned to Dean. “Sorry, what were you asking about?”
“Where do you keep the grey cells?” It was all Dean could do to keep the irritation out of their voice.
“Oh, the grey cells,” said April. “I know where they are. How about I just finish my lunch here,” she held up a sandwich with orange carrot sticks and lettuce hanging out from the bread, “and then I’ll bring them to you. Twenty-minutes or so. Sound good?” She raised an eyebrow as though daring anyone to ask her to bring them sooner.
Dean nodded. They didn’t need the grey cells this instant. As long as they knew they had them. “Yes, perfect, April. Thank you so much.”
April faded from the window.
“Okay, guys,” said Dean, turning to face Rose and Percival. “I’ve got a plan that might work. Listen up.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Where Dean Delegates
Dean knew their plan was risky, far-fetched and might not work. It all revolved around the hopes that the Concreta Control Corps land troops, who were crossing at the southern end of the Riddled Ridge, would be meeting up with their naval counterparts to travel along the southern boundaries of the Fantabulous Forest, rather than going through forest or up and around the northern edge of the woods. Percival assured Dean that Mr. Sactual would not risk his army to the temptations of the forest, and traveling north around it would take them far too long.
Dean didn’t totally trust the porpoise’s advice—he seemed a little deficient in the other sort of grey cells—but looking at the map Hercules Poisson had given them, it did make sense that the army would concentrate itself to the south. In fact, while Dean was relaying their plan to Rose, Percival and a handful of other high-ranking Magus Safety Committee members, they received word that, indeed, the army was already positioned at the southern border of the forest, just off the northwestern shoreline of Slightly Silly Sea. The troops were just feet from the spell’s invisible wall, waiting for it to collapse at 4:18pm the next day.
The committee spent the entire afternoon and long into the wee hours of the night and morning, planning, delegating, recruiting and doing all the other things that Dean said needed to be done for their idea to work. They sketched the whole time—dozens of drawings. None of it was Dean’s best work, but they were certainly some of their most fantastical and just generally crazy weird. Dean insisted that all the other committee members do the same, and by the time all the details of the plan were in place, the group had almost a hundred sketches between them. Which was not nearly enough, but there would be more. At least there better be.
“Okay, it’s time for you two to go,” said Dean. The sun had already risen in the west and was quickly making its way to high noon as though someone had pressed a fast-forward button. All the committee members save for Rose and Percival had left a little while ago, to prepare for the battle ahead. Dean was exhausted and could barely keep their eyes open, but they’d sleep later, when all this was done. Either that, or if Mr. Sactual got his way, they might not be alive to ever doze off again.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone?” asked Rose from her beanbag chair, her head hanging heavily on her chest, eyelids drooping so much that her pupils were barely visible. “I could have another chicken take my place and stay here with you.”
“Yes, Princey,” said Percival. He’d been eating candy all night and the sugar seemed to be helping him stay awake a little better than the others. Though he had, hours earlier, given up on trying to keep his tiara on his head. It lay discarded on the desk. “I agree with Rose. It’s quite a burden you’ve placed on yourself. Why don’t you let me stay here with you? I am acting Q
ueen, after all.”
From their seat on one of the beanbag chairs, Dean shook their head. “No, it has to be me,” they said, though truthfully, it didn’t really have to be. But they were so invested in the plan that they couldn’t delegate this last piece to anyone else. “I’ve got to make sure everything happens when it’s supposed to. And I need both of you to take charge of your areas.”
Rose nodded. “Okay then. I’m off to round up my troops.” She dragged herself over to the Fantabulous Forest transporter. “I hope to see you not long after five p.m. tonight.”
A tear dropped down Rose’s cheek feathers and she rushed back to Dean, stumbled onto their lap and gave them a big hug. “Your mother will be so proud of you when she hears about all this, D.”
The hug felt good, but for some reason, tears started welling up in Dean’s eyes too. It must have been the lack of sleep. “If she hears about it,” they half-whispered.
Rose stepped back and looked Dean in the eye. “We’ll win, D,” she said. “Don’t worry.”
With that, Rose dropped off Dean’s lap, returned to the Fantabulous Forest transporter and plopped down on the green pillow. The chicken had barely enough time to wave goodbye before she sank into its fluffy fabric and disappeared.
“Well, I should be off too,” said Percival, walking over to Dean and holding out a fin for them to shake, which they did. It was sticky with candy sugar. “No matter what happens today, Princey, you’ve given Magitoria the best chance we could hope for at fending off Mr. Sactual and his army. From this time forward, I’m sure your imagination will precede you.” He bowed his head. “It has been a pleasure to know you.”