by Drew Hayes
The air had turned acrid, smoke was pouring through the crack in the doorway, and soon there would be no chance for escape. Death, only moments ago, had felt so inevitable. It seemed the sole way out, the only thing he could do to make amends. Yet this Jack, mad as he was, raised a good point. What good did he do by dying? What wrong was he righting? Shelley was gone, and would be forever. The only parts of her that lived on were inside his skull. Should he burn those, wipe her clean from the world, or put her sacrifice to use? He remembered how it felt to see her look upon him after pulling her from the stream. What it was like to know that, just for a few moments, he was better than a mere monster.
Moving steadily, finally sure of himself, he picked up Father’s bag of supplies and put it over his shoulder. If they were leaving the manor, he’d need ways to repair himself when injuries arose, and depending on where Jack was leading him supplies might not be easy to come by. He turned to face this intruder who’d upended his life, surprised to find a smile of his own was growing to match the one on Jack’s face.
“One more thing,” Jack said. “You need a name. Monsters might go nameless, but scoundrels don’t.”
A name. Such a simple thing, yet it had been denied him. It was tempting to pick something ancient or fitting, like Prometheus, but such grandeur felt wrong. Looking down at the bag, he saw Father’s surname on a metal tag woven into the leather. Reaching down, his mighty fingers snapped off half of the plate and let it tumble to the ground where it would burn with the rest of Father’s legacy. Only the first part of the name remained, the piece that he would claim as his own.
“Frank should be a fine name.”
“You sure you don’t want something else? Something without all the memories attached?” Jack asked.
Frank shook his head. “No. I want to remember what I am, where I came from, and what happens to those who let ambition override humanity. My name is a good reminder to myself of what I’m atoning for, lest I ever grow lax and forget.”
“Well then, Frank, I’m glad to meet you. Now let’s hurry out this window, because I’d hate for our new friendship to be cut off by burning to death.” With that, Jack raced to the window and tumbled out, catching himself on the lip of the ledge and scaling down quickly.
For a brief moment, Frank watched him go, wondering just what sort of man he’d cast his lot with. If things got too dire, he could always cut out on Jack, although he wasn’t quite sure he would. There were few people in the world who could look at a thing like Frank without blanching, and he rather wanted to see what sort of mad adventures this odd man led him to.
* * *
In the end, Jack and Frank managed to kill most of the mansion’s occupants before the screams from outside began to wake them. The last few were half-awake as the pair stormed into their rooms and cut their throats, not that it did more than make their final moments more terrifying. The last of the occupants was in the largest room on the top floor, and neither Jack nor Frank were surprised to find the Coachman himself awaiting them as they broke through the door. He held a sword in his thick hand, though not with the grip of one accustomed to using it.
“Who are you? Why have you come here?”
“Is that sincere?” Jack asked, his own rapier already out of its sheath. “You’re stealing children and cursing them as an enterprise and you’re surprised someone came to stop you?”
“I have protection!” The Coachman’s gaze wobbled between the two of them. “The Hemlock Witches Guild keeps the knights and princes off my trail in exchange for discounted sacrifices. If you kill me, you will incur their wrath.”
Jack and Frank exchanged a brief glance before the former tilted his head. “This will make the fifth act we’ve committed to make a group of witches swear revenge on us, right?”
“Sixth,” Frank corrected.
“Right, sixth, I always forget the walking house.” Jack turned back to the Coachman. “Anyway, as you can see we’re not afraid of witches, and if you can’t tell by the fact that we snuck in rather than charge the front gates, we’re certainly no heroic knights either.”
“Then…then you must work for gold!” The Coachman was backing up, visibly growing more desperate. “I have gold. I have heaps of gold. Let me go, and I can take you to a cave where I’ve hidden at least ten thousand pieces of it.”
Jack’s throat made a sound like two squirrels fighting in a wine barrel as he processed that number. “Did you say ten thousand gold pieces?”
“Yes! All of it yours if you let me live!”
The offer hung in the air for a long, tense moment, before Jack let out a weary sigh. “Damn you, Frank. And damn me for my promises.” In a blink Jack leapt across the gap between them, neatly planting his blade in the Coachman’s throat before he could muster even a halfhearted defense.
“I love gold very much,” Jack explained as the Coachman fell to the ground, blood and life pouring out of him. “And I value all it can do highly. Yet sadly, for you and my wallet, I hold my friendships in slightly higher esteem.”
It was a nice moment, one that was somewhat compromised by the sudden smell that hit Frank’s nostrils. “Do you smell smoke?”
Jack tilted his head and gave a sniff. “Why, yes I do. Looks like Marie has moved onto the second part of the plan.”
They wasted no more time after that, both bolting for the door and down the steps. If she’d already set fire to the pier then it meant it was time for them to go. Fire didn’t care who was right or wrong, who was just or who was evil. Fire burned everything indiscriminately, and if they weren’t gone when it arrived then it would claim them too.
* * *
By the time the sun rose on the remains of The Land of Toys, there was little left to see. The fire had claimed nearly everything, and what it didn’t take had fallen into the depths where it was snapped up by waiting jaws. Thankfully, no children were part of that count, as Marie had evacuated them all before setting the blaze. She’d also smashed through the gates and terrified the guards half to death, or all the way to death in the cases of those who tried to stop her, clearing a path for Frank and Jack to escape. It had taken some nimble work, but they’d eventually made it. Of course, only now did they realize that they had to transport all these children back to Collodi, which would demand several more days of their time.
“I swear, if we were getting paid in normal gold I would tack on extra fees for this,” Jack grumbled. They were putting the smallest, and therefore slowest, children on the horses and walking with the rest of them. With luck, some idiot bandits would try to ambush them and they’d be able to get more horses along the way.
“Good luck negotiating with the Blue Fairy,” Marie chuckled. “And the kid doesn’t have any gold to offer in the first place.”
The two of them bickered as Frank hung back, carefully watching over the children to ensure none wandered off. Whatever troublesome natures they had, each was too terrified to make problems. Sometimes, one of them would look over to him, only for a moment, before quickly turning away. It was an expression he was used to seeing after so many years, though it still stung to this day. Their fear didn’t matter, though. If they told the others of the monster with the scarred flesh who pulled them from a land of fun and toys that was fine, too. All that mattered was that they were safe. He would never be able to truly make amends for the life he’d had a hand in ending, but moments like this gave him hope that if there truly was a life beyond this one, Shelley could be at peace.
“Come on Frank, time to hit the road,” Jack yelled. “We’ve got a long few days ahead of us, and then who knows what kind of information the Blue Fairy left with Pinocchio. Let’s just hope it’s not a curse that turns us into birds or some nonsense.”
Although he gave no verbal reply, Frank made his way slightly closer to the group as they started off, keeping a healthy enough distance to not worry the children while still keeping them all carefully in sight. The convoy began to move, and just as he had every d
ay since that fateful evening in the burning manor, Frank followed Jack on to the next adventure.
The Tale of the Enslaved Elves
Jack was in a mood. That wasn’t to say his ever-present smile had vanished, but it had taken on a slight twist near the corners of his mouth that Marie and Frank had both learned to recognize as a sour sentiment taking hold over him. Although he’d worked hard to hide it, the dark cloud had settled over him since they’d returned to Pinocchio and received the Blue Fairy’s message, if one could even call her scant smattering of words by such a term. It had barely been a sentence, let alone a real indication of what she wanted, but it technically qualified as a lead, which made it all the stranger that Jack was in lessened spirits.
My path will take me through the lands of Summerly.
That was all the Blue Fairy left behind, the small smattering of words that told them little more than the next place they might find a clue to follow her. Summerly, as it turned out, was a town even further north. From what Marie had gathered talking to people in Collodi, it was a small hamlet of relatively minor importance to its kingdom. . Truth be told, their journey was taking them further north than she was entirely comfortable with. While Summerly wasn’t quite within the borders of her own kingdom, it was closer than Marie might have preferred. The nearer they drew to her homelands, the greater the chances of being recognized. A cloak and a haircut would only conceal so much.
They were still a good ways from Summerly, drawing near the thriving merchant town of Sagan, when a rustling in the trees caused Marie’s ears to prick up. She let out a short spurt of a whistle, quick enough to be mistaken for a bird’s song, to alert Jack and Frank. Both men slowed their horses, with Frank turning his dragon’s eye to the trees and searching. After several long moments, he held up a hand with his palm open, silently telling Marie and Jack no attack seemed to be coming. That could always change but, for now, they were to play things peacefully.
Seconds later a small form came tumbling out of the branches, somersaulting end over end until it was snatched from the air by Marie’s quick fingers. She held the creature at a distance, taking a careful measure of it, ready to hurl it away if it bit or scratched her. She’d been expecting an animal of some sort, perhaps an enchanted squirrel or a gopher cursed with confusion. Instead, she found herself looking at the diminutive form of a tinker elf. They were notorious through the lands for their skill at crafting items both mundane and magical, although she was surprised that one had allowed itself to be seen so easily. Her only experience with viewing a tinker elf up close was when Jack had taken her to one of their shops to get her enchanted shapeshifting clothing. It hadn’t been cheap, but where magic was involved, quality was worth the price, even if Jack had fought tooth and nail to keep it as low as he could.
“Found you! Found you I did! Told the others I would and now I have!” The tinker elf, a male one judging by the shape of his hat, was cheerfully swinging about in Marie’s hand, words coming out as a strange mix between singing and shouting. He was staring at her with such resplendent, unashamed joy that Marie grew a touch uncomfortable. Gently, she set him down in the palm of her other hand as Jack and Frank moved in closer.
“Well met, good sir elf,” she said, falling back on formality since she didn’t know how they preferred to be greeted. “My name is Marie, and the gentlemen with me are Frank and Jack. Tell me, is there a reason you sought us out this fine day?”
“Names, right, names. Always forget humans and your need for the things.” The tinker elf paced around her hand, looking at his surrounding with sweeping gazes. “Very well, call me…Leaf. No, sorry, that’s silly name. Acorn will do. Yes, Acorn sounds far more majestic.”
Marie chanced a look at Jack, uncertain if this was normal behavior for a tinker elf, but he merely met her curiosity with a shrug. She hadn’t heard Jack use names when they bought her clothing; then again, he’d mainly been focused on haggling about gold. With few other options at her disposal, she decided to simply go with it.
“As you wish, Acorn. Now that proper introductions are past, allow me to ask if there is some task you would like to hire us to perform?”
“Hire you? Why do that, when you already have debt to pay?” Hunkering down to a squat on Marie’s hand, a position that briefly alarmed her until she saw his intent, Acorn took the sleeve of her tunic in his hands and delicately rubbed the fabric. “Yes, yes, I can feel it in here. These wares were sold with debt to tinker elves, one that’s not yet settled. By magic of the bargain, I hereby invoke debt. Should you refuse, your enchantments will wither as punishment for welshing.”
“A debt? Acorn, I fear you must be mistaken. We bought these wares outright years ago. We paid in gold…” Marie’s words fell off as her mind drifted back to that day. It had been at the very beginning, when she first met Jack and Frank, before she knew just how close of an eye to keep on Jack where a bottom line was involved. The bargaining for the clothes had entailed an awful lot of clustered whispering, now that she thought about it.
Her head turned to Jack, who had already prepared by putting a somewhat shamed expression onto his face, and even a tinge of regret into his smile. “It’s possible I may have agreed to a few options on the deal that lowered the overall cost. The biggest of which was a debt to the tinker elves, which any of them could call in if they were in need.”
“Why would you do that? We’d already agreed that I was going to pay you back out of my share of the jobs, which I did. It wasn’t even your gold.”
Jack looked to her, then Frank, and back before letting out a short sigh. “Partly it was because I can’t resist a good bargain, but mostly I wasn’t sure you’d stick around long enough to make good on the debt. Frank and I have had other traveling companions through the years; few of them lasted more than a couple of weeks before quitting or being retired. So I figured if you skipped out on the debt, this would be your problem to handle.”
“And what do you call it now?” Marie asked.
“Our problem to handle,” Frank interjected, moving slightly closer. As he did, Acorn took notice of the pale man in the robe and took several steps back across Marie’s palm, nearly toppling over the edge. “Acorn, this task you have for us, will it clear the debt on Marie’s clothing?”
“Y-y-yes. She has strong debt, but we has BIG task, so it will balance. You help Acorn and his friends, no more debt on clothes. I swear it upon the bargain of the craft.” At Acorn’s words, a small ripple of light ran along Marie’s outfit. If she’d had any doubt whether he was bluffing or not, that pretty much put it to bed. Acorn had them over a barrel, because Marie would be damned if she was going back to tearing up her outfit at every change and having to hunt for new clothes.
“Very well then, I think we can make this arrangement work.” Marie lifted Acorn slightly higher, so she could more easily look him in the eyes. “Tell me, Acorn, what is it that you would like from us?”
For the first time since his sudden arrival, Acorn grew a touch shy. In that moment, she knew he was going to ask for something difficult, a task that would probably be worth much more than a debt on a few items of enchanted clothing. Even with that insight, she still underestimated just how big of a request Acorn had in mind.
“I need you to free us. All of my friends and family, the enslaved tinker elves of Sagan.”
“How many is that?” Jack asked, clearly wary of the deal they were getting themselves into.
Acorn lowered his head, breaking eye contact. “Hundreds, if not more. We are almost entire crafting force of town.”
To her surprise, Marie noticed that Jack didn’t seem nearly as annoyed by the news as she’d been braced for. If anything, he looked a tad more chipper than before Acorn’s arrival. Since they weren’t being paid for the job, there was only one possibility: it meant more time until they reached Summerly. The revelation made Marie all the more curious, but it was a feeling she’d have to wait to explore. For now, there was a job to do.
“Acorn,” Jack said, leaning down to meet his eyes. “Why don’t you go ahead and start at the beginning.”
* * *
It certainly wasn’t a tale as old as time, but it was at least as old as capitalism. The whole thing started, as was often the case, with a good deed gone awry. Some tinker elves had taken pity on a poor shoemaker fallen on rough times. They snuck into his home at night, turning his scraps of leather into beautiful shoes that sold for far more than his own wares ever could. With the new capital, he bought more leather, turning out more shoes, until his shop was renowned in villages all around for the quality of his fine footwear. Considering their job to be done, the tinker elves took their leave, believing that now the shoemaker would be able to subsist on his own.
That had not been the way things went, however. With no elves to keep making the high-quality goods, the shoemaker’s reputation soon fell, with people calling him a cheat and a charlatan. How dare he charge so much for shoddily made goods? Within a year, he was worse off than before. The only difference was that now the shoemaker knew a way out. Unbeknownst to the tinker elves, he’d stayed up nights watching them work, and was well aware of who had been the architect of his good fortune. With his income in peril once more, the shoemaker dove into lore and research, until he eventually learned enough to trap and ensnare another batch of tinker elves. These he bound, damning them to his will. Their children were born into his service, as were any more elves he managed to snatch up through the years. Soon, his reputation was grand once more, but it wasn’t enough. The shoemaker began to sell other crafters on the marvels of tinker elf labor, turning his surplus of workers into a business all its own. Within a decade, all of Sagan’s wares were elf-made, and it was known as a jewel of a place where one could purchase the highest quality of any goods.
There was silence as Acorn finished recounting his terrible tale. That quiet was quickly broken by Frank, who had backed off slightly in order to keep Acorn comfortable. “One element of this tale confuses me, Acorn. If you’re bound to this shoemaker, as you say, then how were you able to escape and wander the forest to come find us?”