The Curious Case of Simon Todd

by Vanessa C. Hawkins

  Looking up, Mr. Darcy closed his book with his thumb in the center to mark its place. “Well, Ebonguard is still a long ways off, but there should be another hamlet a few days from here.” He was looking at the stars. They choked the velvet skyline, expanding far out beyond what their eyes could see.

  “Quite right, scholar!” Dashing said, flicking off foam from the edge of his razor. The man was dressed in his undergarments: yellowed long johns a bit too short in the leg and unbuttoned down the chest. When he had initially come out after undressing, Simon had approached him, saying how it was inappropriate to be adorned thusly in the presence of ladies.

  “Nonsense! We’re all journeymen now. Propriety is best left in town and among the public!”

  Simon had been embarrassed on his behalf when the man sat down in his underwear amidst them all to shave from a pail of water he had fetched from the stream. However, after a certain amount of time, Jane had disappeared as well, only to return in his nightgown. Fae had followed after with drawers and a sleeveless tunic, and so when Miss Baxter left finally to change into her sleeping dress, Simon resolved that perhaps he had lost the duel with modesty and so, better to join than be an outcast, went to redress into his cotton pyjamas and nightcap.

  “I’ve heard,” Fae began, bare feet pressed close to the fire, “that the mage’s university is along the way. Shouldn’t we be wary of it?”

  Miss Baxter looked up, causing Simon to marvel at the honeyed light in her hair. “Grimguild?” She had been brushing back her long locks, but stopped at the hitch in conversation. “Yes. It is. But it’s not until we get to Birdwood that I think we should be wary. Besides,” she smiled, “not just anyone can find Grimguild University.”

  Dashing rolled his eyes, face only half shaved. “Magic hocus pocus!” He sneered. “Sorcerers and their secrets.”

  Miss Baxter laughed. “There’s a little magic in that gun of yours, isn’t there?” she asked.

  Simon turned his head, regarding the brass colored pistol with glowing runes. He couldn’t remember a time that he had never seen it adorning Mr. Dashing’s hip. Now it sat in a shoulder holster on the outside of his underclothes.

  Dick continued shaving his face, peering through the back of a teaspoon like it were a mirror. “Uh huh,” he mumbled, opening his mouth to shave around the handlebars of his moustache. “But there isn’t a lot of magic required to aim and shoot, Miss Baxter.” He grinned, dipping the razor into the bucket of cloudy water as he twisted to regard her. “Doesn’t matter if I’m shooting bullets, frostfire or lucky rabbit’s feet.”

  “Can you shoot lucky rabbit’s feet?” Fae asked, her legs crossed as she sat on the ground atop an old horse blanket.

  Dashing put down the spoon, unruly chest hairs poking out between the buttons on his long johns. “About as well as you throw dice, Miss Hershal.”

  Fae laughed, her drawers riding up along bare legs. “It’s still one to zero, Dick.”

  Simon watched as Mr. Dashing regarded the young lady’s legs with altogether more fascination than he ought to have had. Going back to his spoon and shave a moment after however, Dashing nodded, having a good chuckle.

  “That may be, Miss Hershal, but mark my words, I always come out on top.” He grinned.

  “If you come at all,” she hurried to reply, sharp like the edge of a knife.

  “My word!” Simon turned, offended as the pair roared out in laughter. He wasn’t surprised that Jane Darcy was once again immersed in his book, or that Miss Baxter had been silently knotting her hair for bed.

  “Have a good night, the lot of you.” Simon was ready to turn in. It had been decided beforehand that the two large tents they had would be utilized as male and female dormitories accordingly. Since Mr. Dashing’s pavilion was the largest, the three men were selected to make it their accommodations. Simon went thusly, dragging his woolen blanket behind him.

  They had an oil lantern for emergencies, but Simon had made sure to purchase extra fuel from the farmer when he had seen it stored in the barn. He lit it as he made his bed, using the sack as a pillow. The pavilion breathed slightly from the wind outside as Simon tucked himself beneath the coverlets. When he finally turned the valve to dim the lantern, he could still see the faint halo of light from the fire outside.

  Just a few more weeks, Simon thought with a sigh. His posterior was still sour at him from all the riding. He turned on his side to grant it some reprieve. A zeppelin would have been better.

  He had been about to close his eyes, listening to the hushed voices of his companions outside when a silhouette coalesced from the back side of the pavilion, away from the bonfire. Simon didn’t pay it any mind at first, guessing either Mr. Darcy had finished his book, or Dick had come to retrieve something. When it appeared to widen into something less human, with large, ovate hindquarters and several spindly legs, Simon blinked in rapid succession, thinking perhaps he were dreaming. When a quick pinch to the forearm negated that thought, he did the next best thing, and screamed blindly for help.

  Dashing was the first into the tent, or he would have been if he hadn’t harshly bumped into a witless Mr. Todd desperately trying to vacate. Fae came right after, giving Simon a curious glance as he tried to explain himself from the already dewy ground.

  “A monster!” he shouted, turning on his back and pointing into the tent. “It was huge! I giant terrifying monster with legs and, and… on the other side of the pavilion!”

  Mr. Dashing drew his pistol, looking quite daring as he pursed his lip and began to investigate. The wind had picked up, making the leaves of the Bellhat applaud loudly in their ears.

  “Stay back,” Dick warned, holding up a hand for the party to be silent. Mr. Darcy was still reclined on his blanket, glasses halfway down his nose with his book in hand as the gunslinger left to search around the tent. Fae had bent down to inspect poor Mr. Todd, but upon realizing that he was in prime condition, save a rather large scare, she stood, at the ready for anything dreadful that might pop out along the wide fields.

  After a moment or two, which was quite an eternity for Simon Todd, Mr. Dashing returned with his gun holstered.

  “Wasn’t anything I could see,” he said, a twig caught up in his underclothes. “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming, Mr. Todd?”

  Simon stood, brushing down his pyjamas and re-donning his fallen nightcap. “No I…” He stared at the ground. This had been the second time he had seen such a creature. Was he hallucinating? Was this still an effect of his fall from the rooftop? Simon shook his head. If it was, he would be scaring the two ladies needlessly.

  “Maybe it’s all an effect of that magic you blocked back in Piper’s Toss?”

  Simon nodded at Fae’s explanation. Though she hadn’t meant to, Fae had offered an excuse that was much better than scaring everybody, including Miss Baxter, and admitting he had actually saw a giant arachnid in the wild.

  “Quite possibly.” He looked to Miss Baxter. He wanted to offer a reassuring smile despite his still quivering nerves.

  The young lady looked concerned. “Don’t worry,” he continued. “Nothing a good night’s rest won’t solve, I’m sure.” Licking his lips he turned back to the tent.

  Mr. Dashing looked satisfied. “Well, sleep well then, friend,” he said, heading back to the fire. “And don’t worry. You’ve got a sorceress and the world’s best gunslinger out here to protect you.”

  Simon closed his eyes, if only to prevent the others from seeing him roll them. “My thanks,” he said anyway, opening the pavilion to step inside, glad the others couldn’t see how he looked in every corner and under every blanket on the way to his bed.

  Just go to sleep, Simon said over and over in his head. Go to sleep and if something kills you, you won’t know because you won’t be awake. And funny enough, the mantra worked. It wasn’t long until Mr. Todd was snoring away.

  * * *

  The small hamlets that dotted the Great Plains of Freland were few and far between even thoug
h the farmland they boasted stretched long into the distance. Wheat and barley, corn and potatoes were all a commodity of the Frelish people and so popped up more than once along the way. The few small villages the party did encounter during the first days of their travel east were usually happy to part with a few baskets of vegetables and dried bison.

  Simon found out in a hurry that he was the one who carried the largest portion of gold for the journey, and it wasn’t long until he was footing the majority of the bill. Fae insisted her father wouldn’t mind, as long as they all kept him in their thoughts when finally finding dragon gold, but Simon didn’t like the idea of it one bit. As the accountant, and overall financial overseer of the expedition, he thought they were spending entirely too much on provisions, and so started limiting the amount of meat in the stews each evening.

  This, of course, didn’t afford him a lot of friends within his party, but it had to be done, and since Mr. Todd took pride in the fact that he was good at any job he was given, he decided to be relatively good at being a cook, equerry, book keeper, and whatever other job Mr. Dashing thought to bestow upon him.

  Over the course of a week, the plains did start to morph into larger, sweeping hills. Though the forests of Birdwood were still a ways off, large birch trees began to pop up and coalesce into a prelude to the upcoming weeks marching through woodlands. The roads were becoming dense with foliage from seasons past, and in some areas, grass and weeds overtook the road completely.

  Mr. Darcy had fallen ill after the first few days, saddle sores making it hard for him to sit astride for long. Simon was shamefully glad for it at first. His own backside felt ridden raw, and the muscles between his legs were stiff and aching.

  One night after the party had stopped early on behalf of Mr. Darcy, Simon had learned whilst climbing a birch for tinder that he could, quite easily, make parts of his body all but disappear. It was a revelation not entirely new to the man, but it had only taken a bit more work to apply the talent to his legs. He was beyond happy after that. As they rode separately with Mr. Todd on the back of old Salvador, he was able to rid himself of all aches and pains simply by willing his body to fade almost entirely, except his arms which were needed to anchor him to the undead beast.

  Though he couldn’t help Jane, which was a shame. Mr. Darcy was quite over being a human, and had considered on more than one occasion, of simply changing into a dragon and eating them all there and then. He didn’t of course, and not because he needed them to breach the ward or that he was beginning to grow fond of the Frelish fop-heads, but because he felt a stubborn pride telling him that if these weak-willed, pink monkeys could live day to day in such feeble bodies, well so too could a great purple dragon! Mind over matter was all it was, he told himself. And as a dragon, his brain was larger than all of those mortals put together.

  So he toughed it out and as a week went by Jane was starting to see an improvement in his limbs.

  It seems humans have to grow their scales, he thought one night after supper. The skin around his legs and on his feet had begun to toughen. He thought the phenomenon was ludicrously fascinating.

  “What in the bloody hell are ya doin’?” Fae had asked the young, blonde hair gentleman. He had been sitting on his blanket, in his nightgown, holding up one foot to the fire.

  “My skin has gotten hard,” he said, for once looking over the rim of his red, colored glasses.

  Fae laughed. “You’re a bit of a popinjay ain’t ya? Never had a callous before?”

  Jane frowned. Of course not, he wanted to say. Dragons can’t be expected to know every fine detail of a human’s anatomy. But instead he only awed, picking at the thing until a part of it fell off and Simon insisted, with disgust, that he either stop at once or find a more solitary place to examine himself.

  It was on the third day of the second week travelling east that the party encountered the crossroad. The Helvallyn hills were a smudge on the horizon still, but the grasslands were becoming more and more dense with Bellhats, Birches and Cedarwood trees. The numerous prairie dog dens were beginning to dwindle, and there was a slow incline now that obscured the mile long view afforded across the terrain they had been privy to before.

  “Do we head east still or keep north?” Fae came up next to Mr. Dashing who had stopped at the crossroads to wait for the party.

  “East,” he said, looking concerned.

  Simon was still in the back, watching the party as Salvador endeavored to catch up at his own rigid pace. Mr. Todd was, in truth, quite bored staring at the ground and watching as the pebbles and large stones wobbled beneath the undead donkey’s hooves. Solidifying himself when he noticed the pause, Simon stood up straight, suddenly realizing a rumbling sound coming from out of nowhere.

  “Do you hear that?” he called, watching as Fae, Jane and Miss Baxter turned to regard him. As they sat in the road, the rumble evolved. There was something melodious accompanying the slight tremors that was slowly approaching from a distance.

  “Over there,” Mr. Darcy proclaimed, pointing towards the north path.

  Dashing was the first to respond, “What is it?”

  What was it indeed! As it grew closer and closer, the monstrous things began to multiply. In fact, it wasn’t just one, but three creatures, all assembled in the road and steaming.

  “They look like elephants!” Mr. Todd exclaimed, eyes wide, round dishes.

  They were magnificent! Large mechanical, steam powered beasts welded from steel and bronze with large curling trunks spilling steam into the air like breathing cloud factories. Their ears moved, pistons hissing behind open joints, and from large portholes along the breast and flanks, music ebbed from the creatures like three harmonious heartbeats thrumming in tune together.

  The party moved to the side as the great, moving mass of engines and metal passed. They were so great in fact, that the three mounts were forced far from the road to give enough girth. Simon marveled at the construction. He had never seen such a thing. Elephants! If they were anything less than these creatures the real thing would have been a disappointment.

  “What is this?” Miss Baxter said.

  Most of the party had dismounted to behold the sight. Simon was still astride old Salvador, lost in wonder.

  “Are they stopping?” In fact, as the giant steam powered beasts began to lumber by, heading along the east road going west, their stride swung in smaller arcs before the congregated party.

  “There are bloody people on top!” Fae said, a hand to her brow. The sun was still climbing the sky, but was high enough to thwart their view. Simon narrowed his eyes, trying to peer past the sunlight and heavy steam.

  “Friends!” The voice was drawn out, and boomed over the hiss of engines and churning gears of the three elephant machines. Descending from on high, a man in a bright red tailcoat and garishly striped white and black suit balanced from a trapeze, black boots expertly poised atop as he grasped a wire in one hand and a cane in the other. There was a girl swinging beneath him, long ivory legs pointed upward as she grasped the bar between his feet. She had hair the color of midnight, shortened around her ears, and was wearing a rather revealing harlequin costume that yawned open to the waist in the morning breeze.

  As soon as the man appeared, it seemed as though a rift had opened. People of all manner began to appear from the elephant automatons, through portholes and fissures in the metal. In fact, as the oddly dressed couple began to drop from the sky, something on the back of the first beast opened along its neck.

  “What in the devil…” Simon heard Dick mutter.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” The man’s voice was thick, accompanied by a grin that seemed to whisper obscenities in the ear of those present. “I am Manny the Magnificent.” As the trapeze approached the ground, the man stepped off, falling like a stone to the ground and landing perfectly on both feet. The woman spun in tandem, twisting long legs up and around the bar into some explicit contortion until she was sitting prettily atop it.

 
“Manny the Magnificent?” Jane echoed, peering at the man with an odd expression.

  His grin seemed to devour his face, and from the rim of his black and white top hat, Manny’s eyes narrowed conspiratorially. “Yes, and this,” he swept an arm behind him with a flourish. “is my Circus of Exhaling Elephanti!” Behind him, the menagerie of curious individuals applauded, yipping and clapping and chortling their exuberant acknowledgment of their precious carnival. From below, Simon watched as a large, painted carousel began to construct itself from the back of the elephant’s neck. The music grew louder.

  “What are you doing in the Great Plains?” Fae asked, watching colorful acrobats as they swung from wires atop the steam powered creatures.

  Manny folded his hands atop a silver cane. There was a crack in it, Simon noticed, as though it had been broken before, then mended together again.

  “The Circus and I are on an expedition.” He walked forward, his long limbs precise in every step he took. He had a mop of red hair that fell like a plume around his face and sharp jawline, reminding Simon of the mage they had encountered in Piper’s Toss.

  Manny continued, “We are lost souls. Much more a circus of sorrows seeking mirth the only way we know how.” His eyes swept the party and lingered on Miss Baxter. “Through the enjoyment of others.” Simon didn’t much care for the way the young man smiled. There was something sinister in the way his lips framed his canines.

  Dashing pursed his lips. “I’ve never heard of this Circus before.”

  “In truth?” The self-proclaimed magnificent Manny bowed slightly as though the weight of what Mr. Dashing had said sat heavily on his shoulders. “It pains me to hear that. As ringmaster of my menagerie of fellow uniques, I have failed you! My Circus, my performers, my friends… would be delighted to introduce you to our art and imagination.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes as he regarded the carousel. The horses were nothing but equine skeletons, cavorting around the decorated structure in some macabre dance. Simon was feeling uneasy all of a sudden. As the ringmaster bowed, a few of the circus folk began to descend the elephant machines. The girl on the trapeze smiled, white greasepaint soiling the black and white checkered gloves she wore on each arm. Around her neck was a large, ruffled cravat, a black onyx gem adorning the center was chipped into the likeness of a teardrop. From beneath the very short skirt she wore, Mr. Todd could see the girl’s underclothes when her trapeze swung high before the party. Simon blushed, feeling embarrassed.