The Pitchfork of Destiny

by Jack Heckel

  “King William, may I surrender to you the traitor, Delbert Thistlemont, the self-­proclaimed Dracomancer,” said Charming. With a strong push, the Dracomancer went down to his knees at Will’s feet. Charming threw the sock puppet to the ground next to him.

  Will folded his arms and looked sternly at the Dracomancer. “You have betrayed the Kingdom of Royaume and plotted treason against me, and if it were up to me alone, I would declare you guilty of the charges against you, but I have learned something from you, Delbert.”

  Will picked up the puppet and, striding to the center of the square, turned in a circle, his hands outstretched in a gesture of welcome. ­“People of Prosper and visitors, I call you to judge with me the guilt of this man.” All was in silence, but faces appeared in windows and at doors, peeking out.

  “He has lied to you. He told you that he can speak to dragon spirits, but this is revealed to be a sham.” Will laughed and, putting his hand in the puppet, waggled it about ridiculously. Somewhere, a child giggled.

  “He told you that he has power over dragons. That he can keep you safe from them. You have seen the dragon, he sits here now before you. I ask you to judge for yourself the ‘power’ this Dracomancer, this Delbert Thistlemont, has over the dragon.”

  Volthraxus rose and loomed above the Dracomancer. He roared in the man’s face and lifted him in the air with the merest tip of his tail.

  “Someone do something! Save me!” screamed the Dracomancer.

  There was no response. Volthraxus dropped him to the grass, where the Dracomancer scrabbled away on his hands and knees like a dog.

  “The Dracomancer would have had you fight the dragon for him. He led you here, knowing that many if not most of you would die in the attempt. I call him a liar and a coward, and a traitor to the ­people of Royaume. Do any gathered here speak for him?”

  No word was spoken. No chants of support were heard. A moment passed. Finally, someone reacted. A hand reached out of a window and pulled down a Dracomancer banner.

  “It looks like your followers have reconsidered your leadership,” said Will. He walked to where the Dracomancer had crawled and stood over him. “Dracomancer, I and the ­People of Royaume declare you guilty of being a traitor to the crown and the citizens of this land. As they have found you guilty, it is my duty to pronounce your doom.” Will looked up at Volthraxus. “I can think of no better judgment than to remand you into the care of the dragon.”

  Volthraxus smiled, baring all of his teeth. “I will gladly take him, King William.”

  “If I could make a request on behalf of the ­people of Royaume, it would be that you not kill him but instead take him far from here to a place where he can make no more mischief.”

  Volthraxus bowed his head. “It shall be as you wish, King William.”

  Charming stepped away, and the dragon scooped the convicted man up in his right-­front claw. The Dracomancer fainted.

  “I would, in turn, humbly request a boon,” said Volthraxus. “I would ask the wolf as a pet. He has many debts to repay me.”

  “The wolf?” asked Will in confusion.

  “Your Majesty,” said Elle, beaming. “I would consider it a delightful wedding present if you gave that cur to Volthraxus.”

  “Of course, my love. Volthraxus, the cur is yours.”

  Beo whimpered.

  The dragon immediately snatched up the wolf, snapping the metal chain as he did. “With that,” asked Volthraxus, “may I take my leave? I long for the skies and my home in the north.”

  Will nodded. “You are welcome to take your leave, Volthraxus, but before you do, may I extend the hand of peace from all the ­people of Royaume? Should your journeys ever lead you back to our lands, you shall be welcome.”

  The silver-­gray dragon nodded, his eyes glowing with wonder. “Once before, King William, you took the title of dragonslayer. Let it be known to all that you have renounced that title, but let me provide you with another. I pronounce you King William, Dragonfriend.”

  Will’s mouth fell open. He placed his hand to his breast and bowed. “I am honored.”

  Volthraxus lowered his head. “Before I depart, Your Majesty, may I have a private word with Lord ­Charming?”

  Will gestured for Charming to join him next to Volthraxus. Liz raised an eyebrow of concern, but Charming gave her a kiss on the check for reassurance and walked to where the dragon stood. Will politely backed away.

  The dragon leaned his head close to Charming. “Lord Charming, I wish to be the first to offer you congratulations.”

  Charming looked at him quizzically. “Congratulations? I consider what happened to be our victory, not mine alone.”

  The dragon shook his head. “Not on your handling of me although that was neatly done. I mean to congratulate you on your choice of wife.”

  “Liz is a treasure,” Charming smiled. “I’m a very lucky man.”

  Volthraxus whispered. “I would have told her, but now I think it should come from you. You will soon be a father. Children are the greatest of treasures. Cherish them.”

  Charming felt tears of joy in his eyes. For once he did not try to suppress them. “Thank you, Volthraxus. You have given me the very best gift possible. I am forever in your debt.”

  Volthraxus smiled, then, flicking out his tongue, the great Dragon tensed and shot into the air in a rush of wind, a wolf struggling impotently in one claw and the Dracomancer dreaming in the other.

  *Author’s Note: S. Tagger’s review of the Prosper Dragonfest in his book Staggering Along: A Guide to Royaume was particularly harsh. An excerpt is provided here. “I arrived in Prosper at about noon and my first reaction was, ‘Is this it?’ The town has a lovely green, if what you are looking for in a town green is well-tended grass and little else. There is one inn, one tavern and nothing to do but drink warm, overpriced beer and wait till morning when the death of the dragon is reenacted. The reenactment itself is quaint, if you define quaint as cringeworthy. It certainly does not make the journey south worth the trip. Take the bells, bell really, for at least when I visited, only one bell was working, I had heard about the ringing of the bells of Prosper for months, but in reality they are barely audible over the screams of the children that flock to the papier-mâché dragon’s head the towns-people drag out to the green for the occasion. As for the fake dragon’s head itself, all I can say is, no. Just, no.”

  CHAPTER 18

  HAPPILY EVER AGAIN

  And so it was that the Great Dragon Panic ended nearly as quickly as it began. Within a fortnight, no one who claimed to be a Dracolyte could be found in either Prosper or Two Trees or in the surrounding areas. There were a few reports of dracomocracy breaking out in villages here and there, but wherever they were or might have been, the roads to them must have been so convoluted and ill marked that they might as well have been lost. However, it must be noted that merchants and tailors began a booming business in sock puppets of Volthraxus and nary a silver-­gray sock could be found in the land that didn’t have button eyes sewn into it.

  Lady Rapunzel married King William within a week of her return to Castle White. Any doubts that remained about William’s reign were drowned in a sea of praise for Queen Rapunzel. Other than the delay caused by Rapunzel’s abduction, every aspect of the wedding was flawless, particularly the dress, and though it would be the talk of the realm for decades to come, it may be even better remembered for a live performance from Norm and the Bremen-­Four that marked the beginning of their Great Comeback Tour. The only thing that struck anyone in attendance as curious was the sudden disappearance of Lord and Lady Charming before the Wedding Ball.

  While the kingdom danced and drank, Edward and Elizabeth Charming sat in the back of a carriage, blissfully happy to not be at the center of attention.

  “Will did well tonight, didn’t he?” Liz asked with a sigh. “I think he and Elle are goi
ng to be so happy, don’t you, Edward?” She placed her head on Charming’s shoulder and blinked away more tears of happiness. She thought she must have wiped all her makeup off onto handkerchiefs, but she couldn’t help herself when she thought about her baby brother and his bride.

  “I have no doubt,” replied Charming, putting one arm around his wife’s shoulder and gently placing another on her belly, hoping that he might feel a kick.

  She snuggled closer. “I love you, my Edward Charming.”

  “And I love you, my Lady Elizabeth.”

  They both laughed, recalling the afternoon the previous year when they had ridden out from Castle White after their own wedding. “Do you remember what I asked you the last time we left the castle?”

  “Of course, I do. You said, ‘Edward, what do you think will happen to everyone?’ ”

  “That’s right. So, what do you think will happen to everyone?” she asked, with a yawn.

  “Let me see. Elle seems destined to be the best queen this land has ever had. Your brother, probably in large part because of Elle, will be well loved by his ­people and implement all manner of town councils and other reforms.” Charming sighed. “And, though it still seems unnatural, I’m sure it will be for the best.”

  “What about us?” she asked, raising her head to look into his eyes.

  “We will away to our cottage, and you will have the first of our many children.”

  Liz added, “If it’s a girl, we will name her Eleanor, and if it is a boy, Edwin.”

  “I was thinking that we could name them Princess or Prince.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said with a chuckle, nestling herself against his shoulder once more before yawning.

  “Always,” he said, and gave her his most incorrigibly Charming chuckle.

  Liz said nothing. He looked down and saw that she had fallen asleep. He listened to her soft breathing, and, suddenly, he felt not one, but two kicks from within her belly. Liz stirred slightly and placed her hand over his before relaxing once more. Charming smiled. For the first time in his life, Edward Charming was well and truly content.

  EPILOGUE

  A FIELD OF TEARS

  The most important day of Gwendolyn Mostfair’s life came on a Wednesday in March. A year had passed since Volthraxus had descended like a storm on Royaume. The Royal ­Couple had been married the summer previous, and the Charming twins were born that fall. In Prosper, spring had arrived. The delicate green of new growth covered the valley and surrounding hills.

  That morning, Monty had taken one breath of the clean air and one look at the peerless blue sky and pronounced that today was not a day for work. With a kiss on her cheek and a pinch, he had insisted that Gwen put aside her apron and her cleaning and join him for a picnic. An hour later, they were walking hand in hand, he with a basket of food and she with a blanket. They made their way through the knee-­high stalks of their corn toward the little hill in the center of their field that the townsfolk called Dragon Mound.

  Monty and Gwen had, from the first, agreed that Magdela’s resting place should be left untouched by the plow, and it had become one of Gwen’s favorite spots. After her chores were done, she liked to sit on the hill and think and make posies from the delicate blue and white wildflowers that dotted its sides. On this day, they lay next to each other on the blanket, watching the clouds chase each other in the wind and talking about everyday things.

  They spoke of how the corn was growing, about when they might have enough money saved to fix the barn roof, and about whether they should think of getting a second cow. Then a pleasant lull came to their conversation.

  “Are you satisfied here, my Princess?” Monty asked, breaking the silence.

  “What are you talking about, Monty?” she laughed. “What a silly question. Of course I am.”

  He sat up, his face set, and stared into her eyes. “I am being serious.”

  “So am I,” she replied, and also rose, so that they sat facing each other.

  “But, we talk of cows and corn and barns,” he said gesturing about dismissively with his hand. “Do you not miss the court? Do you not miss the dresses and the balls, the dukes and barons, and speaking of things of significance?”

  “Significance?” She laughed aloud. “I cannot think of a single conversation I ever had at court that had as much significance to me as our talk today of cows and corn and barn.” She clutched his hands in hers. “I will not say that there are not times when I wish I had a servant or two to wash the clothes or churn the milk, but I would not go back to court if King William himself came and begged me.” He looked away from her, and she placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face back to hers. “But you know all this, Monty. What is it that you are worried about?”

  He plucked a stalk of grass and began twirling it between his fingers. She could tell he was nervous, and suddenly she was nervous, and all her doubts intruded themselves on her thoughts. He has grown tired of being a farmer. Her heart began to beat faster. He has grown tired of me. Her hands began to shake. He wants to leave, but does not know how to tell me.

  “Are . . . are you not happy?” she asked, her voice quavering and catching.

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “I know that there are better places for you than here, and women that would be of far greater help to you than . . . I.” She kept her voice calm but could not help its catching at the end.

  “You think I mean to leave you?”

  She did not answer, but the tears flowed from her eyes. “We never said that this had to be forever, only that we would try. I . . . I must . . .”

  She had to go. She could not let him see her cry. She rose to her feet and began to turn. He caught her, and when she looked down, he was on his knees at her feet.

  Gwen tried to pull her hand away, but he held her with a desperate strength. “No, my Princess, I will not let you go, not until you answer two questions.”

  His dark eyes pleaded with her to stay. Fearing to speak, she nodded.

  “Do you love me?”

  Gwen knew that what he meant was did she love him truly. It was nearly the same question she had asked him when he was still a frog, and they had kissed for the first time. Her heart whispered the answer without hesitation.

  “I do,” she said.

  He reached with a hand to his breast pocket and pulled out a ring of gold. Her breath caught.

  “Then will you make me at last happy, Gwendolyn Mostfair, my only love? Will you do me the great honor of being my wife and spending all the days you have in this life with me?”

  Her heart soared. How could it be that from one moment to the next one could go from desolation to transcendent happiness?

  “I will,” she said, and tears of joy ran down her face as he slipped the ring on her finger. “I will,” she said again, and he rose and clutched her to him. “I will,” she said, as she buried her face in his chest. Gwen thought that perhaps she might never stop saying “I will,” but he raised her face to his and silenced her words with a kiss.

  He pulled her down onto the blanket next to him and began kissing her in earnest. She returned his embrace, but as the afterglow of the moment began to fade, a thought intruded itself in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, it would not leave her in peace.

  “Monty?” she asked at last.

  “Yes, my love,” he said, still kissing her throat.

  “Where did you get the ring?”

  The kisses stopped. “I thought you would wonder about this,” he said, then asked, “Does it matter?”

  “I think so,” she said, twirling the gold band around her finger. “You must know it isn’t that I don’t love it, but it must have cost a lot, and you know I don’t need a fancy ring—­”

  “It cost nothing,” he said, peering down at her and moving a lock of hair that had stray
ed across her face.

  “But it is gold.”

  “Most assuredly.”

  “How?” she asked. “We don’t have the coin for a gold ring.”

  He sighed and, rolling from atop her, rose to his feet. “I knew you would wonder about that also, my Princess.” He buttoned up his vest. “An admirer of yours helped me. In anticipation that you would agree to marry me, and in appreciation for his help, I have invited him to share this day with us. If you do not mind, I think that he should explain.”

  “An admirer?” she asked. “I don’t have any admirers besides you.”

  “There you are most assuredly wrong, my Princess,” he said, and began waving his arms in the air as though signaling to someone.

  She stood and looked about, but could see no one. “Who is it?” she asked, straightening her dress and shaking the grass from her clothes and hair.

  Monty pointed up in the sky, at a little black speck dancing among the clouds high above.

  “The . . . the dragon?” she asked, her heart suddenly beating faster. “Volthraxus?”

  “Yes, my love,” and, taking her hands in his, he peered into her eyes. “Tell me now if you do not want this, and I will send him away. He will not descend further unless I signal, but he has been very kind and would very much like to speak to you of Magdela.”

  “When did you meet him?”

  “A month ago, he came to me while I was in the far field near the woods,” Monty said. “He was hiding among the trees, and we talked for a time. He told me about his lost love, and he asked after you. Shall I send him away?”

  “No,” she said at once. Perhaps at one time she might have been scared, but now her heart yearned to talk to the dragon. “I also wish to speak with him.”

  Monty nodded, then gave another wave to the sky. The little dot began to descend in gentle circles toward the ground. Monty kissed her hands and picked up the basket. “I will leave you to speak in private,” he said. “Should you need anything, I will be close at hand.”