The Last Protector

by Daniel C. Starr

  Within minutes she'd lost sight of the campfire and was traveling in a random path. He stayed out of sight, letting her wander until she appeared to be on the verge of panic. Then, without a sound, he stepped from the darkness into a pool of moonlight directly in front of her. “Going somewhere?” he asked, suppressing a smile as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  She wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his chest and cried, “I just want to go home, and now I'm lost. I was afraid I'd just wander in circles until something ate me...” As if on cue, a wolf howled in the distance. “I'm scared."

  "I won't let the wolves eat you."

  She looked up with wide, wet eyes and gulped. “I think you scare me more! You killed those guys like it was nothing."

  "I didn't want to. They were trying to kill us."

  "Taupeaquaahns don't kill people,” she insisted, but her voice lacked conviction.

  "Nobody told these guys."

  "I know,” she sobbed. “I don't want to believe this mind-reading stuff, but I could tell they were out to kill you.” She clung to him as the wolf howled again. “And that creepy Captain is out there someplace..."

  "Not to mention the mysterious Lord Draggott."

  "I don't even want to think about him."

  He patted her back gently. “Well, maybe we should get back to camp."

  "I guess. I just want to go home. I have a nice little apartment, two rooms with a door that locks and a nice warm bed. I just want to wake up tomorrow morning and find this was all a dream. Even my old job at Syb's looks good now."

  He looked carefully into her wide, fearful eyes and spoke in his most serious voice. “Listen to me. Even if you don't believe anything else Jape or I say about mind reading or other worlds, believe this: I promised to bring you back safely. I keep my promises."

  She wiped her eyes. “I think I can believe that. I might not even have to pretend."

  Nalia's random walk hadn't taken her far from the camp, and soon they were close enough to hear Jape's snoring. A moment later the fire and the tents came into view.

  "I still won't be able to sleep,” she said as Scrornuck tossed a fresh log on the fire. “My head's all full of scary stuff."

  "Think this would help?” He produced the almost-empty wineskin.

  She shook her head.

  "Some music, perhaps?” She nodded, so he assembled his pipes—taking special care to wet the reeds—and played a soft, rambling melody.

  After a while she looked up from the fire. “Scrornuck?"

  "At your service."

  "Tell me a story. I need something to help get my mind off..."

  He put a finger to his lips. “If you're trying to get your mind off something, you shouldn't be talking about it.” He tugged on the end of his beard as if trying to bring it to a sharper point. “A story, let me think...” He knew plenty of tales, but most concerned bloody battles and hideous monsters, and weren't likely to relax this nervous young woman. What she needs, he thought, fiddling with the oddly-shaped stone hanging from a string around his neck, is something just a little silly. The Tail of the Virgin Queen would be an obvious choice, but it didn't translate well to the common tongue—most of the really naughty puns went away. Besides, the Tail was a song, and needed a guitar for accompaniment.

  "What's that thing?” she asked, interrupting his contemplation.

  "This? It's a rock.” He undid the string and handed her the pebble. It was a rather common stone, shiny and a bit oddly shaped, looking from one angle rather like a duck's bill. The ordinary leather string passed through what appeared to be a natural hole.

  "Just a rock?” She rubbed the stone between her fingers. “Then why do you wear it?"

  "It's special—it's a dragon-slayer."

  "What do you do, throw it hard enough to knock the dragon out of the sky?"

  "Not exactly...” He stopped short and thought. “You know, the tale of this rock may be just what you're looking for. Want to hear it?"

  She smiled slightly. “It's not too bloody, is it?"

  "Not bloody at all,” he assured her. “Once upon a time, not that long ago, there lived a tall, red-haired young man who was on a Quest to find the answer to the Great Riddle of Life..."

  Scrornuck trudged down the muddy road into the mist-shrouded mountains by the sea. He'd departed his village in a mixture of excitement over the coming journey, sadness at leaving his friends and family behind, and deep regret over having destroyed his grandfather's sword. Though no words were spoken, Scrornuck saw the tears in his father's eyes when he brought the blade home in pieces. Despite his hurt, the old man had directed Scrornuck to the mountains, to a Great Sage who was said to know the answers to all questions. The journey took many days, concluding with a long, treacherous and exhausting climb to a small, dark cave behind a waterfall.

  Cold, wet and bruised from several nearly-disastrous falls, Scrornuck hauled himself into the cave and heard a voice speaking from the darkness, inviting him to warm up by a small fire. He did this, and in time the Sage appeared, wearing a long green robe that brushed the ground and moving in a way that seemed more floating than walking. The Sage offered Scrornuck a skin of wine and listened as his guest told the story of the Knight, and his quest to answer the Great Riddle of Life.

  Time passed, and the Sage said nothing. Lulled by the warmth of the fire, the silence, the darkness and perhaps the wine, Scrornuck dozed off, only to jump back to attention when the Sage at last uttered five words:

  "To do is to be."

  Having spoken, the Sage disappeared into the darkness. Scrornuck struggled to follow, but his legs were stiff from sitting. By the time he got to his feet, the Sage was nowhere to be seen, and after a brief, fruitless search, Scrornuck gave up and left the cave.

  He was amazed to see sunlit mountains in place of the low hills and fog-shrouded coast—it appeared he had entered the cave by one entrance and come out by another. His body told him it was late afternoon, but the sun and shadows said it was mid-morning.

  In the sun-drenched valley below the mountain, Scrornuck found a small village whose people knew nothing of the Great Riddle, but did know of another village that was under attack by a most unfriendly Dragon. The monster had besieged the village, gobbling up the bean fields, killing the men, and carrying the young maidens off to its lair. The local king had sent his bravest knights to slay the monster, but they had simply become snacks for the great beast.

  "To do is to be,” the Sage had said. Scrornuck took the message to mean that he should do great deeds with whatever time he had left. And so, he set off to slay the Dragon, hoping that if he were successful he might find a carbuncle...

  "Whose uncle?” Nalia interrupted.

  "A carbuncle. It's like a purple ruby full of golden veils. They form in the brains of Dragons, especially big, powerful old ones. Legend says that if you find one, you'll have wealth, good fortune and wisdom. I figured I could use those—especially the wisdom to help me figure out the Great Riddle—so I headed toward the Dragon's lair."

  Scrornuck wandered through the sunlit meadow at the top of the mountain pass, admiring the blue sky, the green grass and the flowers. While he watched the scenery, the Dragon watched him and thought about how an afternoon snack would really hit the spot. As Scrornuck stood oblivious, the monster swooped down the mountainside, mouth open, teeth and claws gleaming...

  "And then you drew your magic sword and slit the Dragon wide open,” Nalia said. “Ta-daa!"

  "Don't anticipate,” he warned. “In fact, I never had time to reach for Ol’ Red..."

  Scrornuck spotted a fascinating pebble on the path—a shiny rock with a natural hole, a chip of stone that looked from his vantage point oddly like a duck's beak. He went down on one knee to get a better look, and his hand closed on the interesting stone.

  Something hit him in the back, sending him flying. He felt a blast of wind, smelled an awful stink, and heard a terrifying roar. For a moment the Dragon, its ta
lon caught on a buckle of his backpack, dragged him down the trail. Then the strap tore off and Scrornuck skidded to a stop in the dirt. He saw the Dragon gliding away, looking over its shoulder as if it, too, wondered what had just happened. An instant later, still looking back at him, the Dragon flew straight into a stand of trees and burst its gas-bladder. The steel backpack buckle clanked against a rock, there was a spark—and the monster vanished in a great ball of orange flame and greasy black smoke. Dragon parts rained from the sky, and as the smoke drifted away Scrornuck was surrounded by a crowd of young maidens making their escape from the beast's lair.

  He searched the field for the Dragon's head, but by the time he spotted it, resting against the remains of a flattened tree, the ladies had hoisted him to their shoulders and were carrying their rescuer down the hill to their village, where they spent the next few days expressing their gratitude.

  "I'll bet they were grateful,” Nalia said, raising one eyebrow. “Did you ever find your carbuncle?"

  "I'm afraid not. Carbuncles start to dissolve as soon as the dragon's slain. By the time the villagers were done thanking me, it was too late."

  Scrornuck found nothing but maggots and slime in the Dragon's skull, and with a sigh, he headed back to the cave where he'd met the Great Sage.

  The Sage listened to his story, and after a long, long pause, said simply:

  "Sometimes, to be is to do."

  Scrornuck was hardly surprised when the Sage again vanished into the darkness. He left the cave, and with the sun shining overhead and the green mountains all around, he inspected his new pebble and contemplated what the Sage had told him: To do is to be, to be is to do.

  "And so,” Scrornuck concluded, “to the moral of my adventure.” The joke was positively prehistoric, but he couldn't resist: in his best lounge-singer voice he crooned, "Do-be-do-be-do, do-do-be-do-be—"

  She slapped him playfully. “Not exactly the answer to the Great Riddle of Life."

  "No, but there's a message—sometimes you have to do something, take action, be the hero. And sometimes you just have to show up and be yourself. The hard part is knowing which."

  "Uh-huh.” She yawned, and handed him the stone. “I think I'm ready to get some sleep now. Thanks for the story.” She held his hand for a moment, and then gave him a little peck on the cheek. “And thanks for bringing me back."

  "It was my pleasure,” he said as he escorted her to the tent and made sure she was comfortable. “Sleep well. And oh, yeah, be sure to take a stick along if you get up to pee tonight. I saw some snakes around the privy, and I'd hate to have to suck poison out of your butt."

  "You would, huh?"

  He nodded. “Snake poison tastes worse than coffee."

  * * * *

  Scrornuck grinned as Nalia stuck her head out of her tent and carefully sniffed the morning air. “It's safe,” he called, “no coffee today."

  "I smell something good! What is it?"

  "Breakfast!” He lifted the pan in which he was frying three beautiful pieces of fish, and deftly slid them onto three plates. “Enjoy!"

  She tasted a corner of her fish, and followed the taste with big bite. “Mmm, it's good!"

  Scrornuck tossed a stone in the direction of Jape's tent. “Wake up, old man, breakfast's getting cold!"

  Jape straggled out, muttering something about a place so uncivilized that you can't even get coffee in the morning. He took his plate and sniffed. “Real food. Smells good. You, on the other hand, stink like a wet dog, Mister Saughblade."

  "Yeah, I got soaked last night."

  Nalia ran her fingers through Scrornuck's damp, matted hair. “Don't you know it always rains on Monday nights?"

  "Well, Nalia,” Jape said between bites, “you sound a bit more cheerful this morning. Did you sleep well?"

  "I was pretty nervous,” she said sheepishly. “I needed Scrornuck to tell me a bedtime story."

  "You had a rough day. Did it help?"

  She nodded. “I slept like a stone."

  "Mister Saughblade's a good storyteller."

  "Telling stories isn't all that hard,” Scrornuck said. “I bet Nalia knows some fine tales."

  "Indeed,” Jape said. “The other day you said something about Spafu's Helpers and the beginning of the world. Do you have a story about that?"

  She nailed Jape with a look that made Scrornuck wince. “You don't know? I may not be the most devout Spafuist—I mean, my offerings are still pretty small and I even dated a Snaker once—but at least I was awake when they taught how Spafu made the world!"

  "I know a number of creation stories,” Jape replied calmly. “But as I said, we're not from around here, and I'd like to hear yours."

  "Okay.” She a deep breath, closed her eyes and recited:

  The Book of Spafu, Chapter Two:

  What Spafu did in the beginning is beyond human understanding. If a man were to understand it he would go mad.

  But the Friendly Dragon made something that at once was and was not, and in the blink of an eye and a flash of fire, the world was made

  With all its grass, and trees, and animals

  And its people.

  And Spafu saw that it was good.

  And he looked upon the people, and said “you are my children, my special treasure, and I shall provide you with all you need."

  So the Dragon gathered his people by the River, and summoned from his dwelling place the Helpers—a little more than men, a little less than Spafu himself—and they built the City.

  They built the walls, and the buildings,

  And the great Square, and the Temple.

  And it was good.

  And behold, the Helpers returned whence they came,

  But Spafu stayed with his people.

  And the Dragon said, “This world is too big and beautiful not to be shared."

  And he divided the City and said, “You, my children, shall be the Cast, and you shall live in the Quarter designated for you. To this other Quarter, of broad streets and spacious rooms, I shall invite Guests.

  "And you, my Cast, shall serve the Guests, taking care of their every need, providing them with food and gifts, singing songs and performing shows for them. And I shall provide for you."

  And so it was: the Cast, the Dragon's special treasure, came to live in their Quarter, receiving the Gifts of Spafu, learning songs and plays, preparing the other Quarter for the arrival of the Guests.

  Nalia said no more for several seconds, and Scrornuck finally asked, “Then what?"

  "Yes, the story seems a bit unfinished,” Jape said. “What happens after the Guest Quarter's made ready?"

  "We wait for the Guests to come,” Nalia said. “I mean the True Guests, not people like you who just walked into town. We let Cast members and visitors stay in the Guest Quarter if they've got the money, because it helps us practice serving. But the priests say that the True Guests are from the same place as Spafu and his Helpers, and one day they'll just appear out of nowhere between the Standing Stones. The Guard who's keeping watch will sound the Horn, and the whole City will turn out to greet them."

  "Have any True Guests ever come?” Jape asked.

  She sighed. “Not yet. I don't talk about this in public, especially around the Temple, but it's been a hundred years already—sometimes I wonder if they're ever going to come."

  "Well,” Scrornuck said, “As long as we're waiting, anybody for seconds on breakfast?"

  "Sure,” Nalia replied, “this stuff's great. How come we didn't have it last night?"

  "Didn't know it was there.” He grabbed the frying-pan and started toward the creek.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To catch a couple more fish."

  "Huh?"

  "You've never been fishing?"

  She shook her head.

  "Come with me.” He handed her the frying pan and led her to the creek. Placing one foot on a log and the other on a rock, he straddled a calm pool where several fat, colorful fish swam lazily. He exten
ded Ol’ Red's blade a couple feet and took careful aim. A sudden squeeze of the grip shot the blade into the water, and when he swung it up a big fish wriggled on the sword's tip. “Ain't she a beauty? Big enough for all three of us, and some left over!"

  "That's what we ate?” She suddenly looked a little green. “With all those scales?” The fish flopped, its head pointing toward her. “It's looking at me!"

  "Not for long! Hold that pan steady.” His fingers danced on Ol’ Red's grip, subtly signaling his intent. It vibrated, almost purred in response. “Gin-su!" he shouted, suddenly flipping the fish into the air. The sword went to work, its blade twisting, splitting, separating scales, bones and gut from meat, and within seconds three perfect fillets dropped into the pan, filling it. A fourth piece was skewered on the sword-blade, and he seasoned it with a little shaker of spice mixture that he carried in his sporran. “Anyone for sushi?” She shook her head. He shrugged and popped the tasty morsel into his mouth. “You don't know what you're missing."

  It took Scrornuck only a few minutes to fry the fish up in butter and a little of his spice mixture. “Nothing like a fresh breakfast,” he said, passing out plates.

  "We're eating the insides of a dead fish,” Nalia said, holding a bit on her fork and examining it closely. “I never knew you could do that."

  "Isn't it convenient?” Scrornuck said. “Fish, birds, cattle, deer, wolves: it's a world of food, everywhere you look!"

  "I always got my food at the store."

  "Didn't you ever wonder how the store gets the food?” Jape asked.

  "It's a Gift of Spafu,” she said. “Just like everything else."

  * * * *

  Well fed, the party hit the trail, and soon were out of the forest and under the perfect blue sky. It felt good to be in the open again—even the Compact Desert and the Perpetual Storm seemed somehow familiar and reassuring. Scrornuck entertained Nalia with small talk, silly songs, and stories that were carefully chosen to avoid mentioning his more frightening talents.

  A little after noon, they reached the pleasant little pub at the junction of the Southern Road. “Just in time,” Scrornuck said, rubbing his belly. “I was afraid we'd have to break out the survival rations."