Milk & Croakies

by Sam Cheever

  At the bull’s next iteration of the leap, twist, head-fling thing, Hobs made the return trip, his scrawny legs hitting the bull’s back with a smack of flesh against flesh.

  Hobs cackled again and rode out the exact same string of events for several more seconds before he was finally flung off the bull’s back, cartwheeling through the air and hitting the ground with a splat as he landed in a mud-colored puddle.

  There was a beat of silence as everyone took stock of the situation and tried to decide what to do. Then Hobs shot up from the watery hole and yelled, “Again!”

  The bull’s eyes went wide. Its skinny tail whirled in a desperate circle, and then the big bovine whipped around and made a run for it, hooves pounding the earth in full retreat.

  “Slug slobber,” Hobs lamented.

  I groaned, holding my side as the stitch I hadn’t noticed under a wash of panic-laced adrenaline tried to cut me in half. “Hobs, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  Rustin chuckled. “In his defense, he did defuse the situation.”

  I shook my head, pressing a hand into my side.

  Chirping noises emerged from Sebille’s shoulder. A soft whirring noise followed.

  Sebille gasped.

  I looked up to find Sadie dancing on the air in front of Hobs, tiny wings moving so fast I couldn’t see them above her small body. She was chittering happily as she dipped, whirled, and danced from side to side in front of Hobs’ delighted face, clearly telling him a story.

  “She’s flying.” Sebille wailed as if announcing the end of the world.

  “It’s what dragons do,” I told Sebille, chuckling at her expression.

  “I know, but…”

  “Let’s go,” Rustin said. “We’re running out of daylight, and I assume the light isn’t that great in the barn.”

  “Nothing’s that great in the barn,” I groused.

  We started off toward the sagging structure again. I’d like to report that my steps were faster with the knowledge that there was an enraged bull somewhere in the pasture where we walked.

  Unfortunately, I was already hurting and weary.

  And I still had a frog and a cow to find.

  7

  Fainting Couch for One Please

  I shoved at the big, ramshackle door blocking the entrance to the barn. It creaked and whined against the metal track and then finally gave way with a shriek.

  The interior of the place was almost as dim as it had been when I’d been there during a rainstorm. The musty smell of old hay, sour wood, and moldy dirt hadn’t changed either.

  But a quick glance toward the cow paddock had me narrowing my gaze in speculation.

  “What’s wrong?” Rustin asked.

  “I’m pretty sure there were more cows there yesterday.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe they’re out to pasture.”

  Sebille was keeping a careful eye on Sadie as the little dragon whirred and spun on the air nearby, clearly enjoying her newly discovered flying ability.

  “Where’d you lose the frog bus?” Rustin asked, glancing calmly around.

  I swung an arm toward the ladder leading to the loft. “Under that ladder there.”

  “What ladder?”

  I nearly rolled my eyes. “You’re such a man sometimes,” I groused. “That ladder right th…” I felt my blue eyes widen. “Oh.” The ladder was gone. I started toward the area where it had been. The hayloft looked shorter than I remembered too.

  Rustin put a restraining hand on my arm, stopping me. “Look at the ground.”

  I did as directed and frowned, at first not tracking with what I was seeing. The dirt was smooth beneath the loft. I slid my gaze along the ground beneath the loft and noted about a three-foot-wide ribbon of smooth dirt that started inside the cow pen and ended just past where the ladder had been. The air in that space was slightly muzzy, covering everything behind it in a faint white haze. “What is it?”

  “The wrinkle,” Rustin said, his voice filled with unhappiness. “It’s growing.”

  That can’t be good.

  “Aaaaaaahhhhhh!”

  Yelping in surprise, I swung around at the scream, wishing I had a weapon.

  A small, horned animal stood a few feet away, its jaw working busily over something in its mouth.

  “What is that?” Sebille breathed.

  I glanced at my assistant and found her clutching Sadie to her chest with one hand, the other stretched out in front of her spitting green energy.

  Rustin laughed. “It’s just a goat.”

  Sebille relaxed slightly, her magic partially dissipating. But I noticed she kept a slight glow of energy around her fingers. Just in case.

  I felt smug. Even I knew what a goat was.

  Kind of.

  “Why is it screaming at us?” I asked.

  Rustin shrugged, looking amused. “Who knows. Goats are weird.”

  “Aaaaaaahhhhhh!”

  A small body shot through the door, followed by the sleek gray form of Mr. Wicked. Hobs literally skidded to a stop when he saw the goat, a look of pure glee on his small face. His oversized ears twitched, the strand of light brown hair between them shifting with the movement. “What’s that?”

  “Goat,” Rustin offered.

  “Goat,” Hobs repeated softly, trying the word on for size. “Cute.”

  I nodded. “You should leave it alone, Hobs. I think they bite or kick or something.”

  “As opposed to a Brahma Bull?” Sebille offered snarkily.

  I shrugged. Hobs wouldn’t listen to me anyway. “We should…”

  “Aaaaaaahhhhhh!”

  Hobs jumped at the sound, then clapped his hands and cackled. “Aaaaaaahhhhhh!” he responded in a fair imitation of the goat.

  The goat’s eyes widened, and it fell over onto its side, knobby legs sticking straight out from its body.

  I gasped. “He killed it.”

  Rustin burst into laughter at the look of horror on the hobgoblin’s face. “It’s okay, Hobs. It’s a fainting goat.”

  When Hobs continued to stare in horror at the little creature, Rustin said. “Really. Watch.”

  After a few beats, the goat seemed to wake up and quickly climbed to its feet. “Aaaaaaahhhhhh!” it screamed.

  Hobs clapped his hands again.

  I looked at Rustin. “Anyway…”

  He nodded. “Let me see if I can gauge the parameters of the wrinkle. Just give me a minute.”

  Keeping one eye on the ghost witch, I watched Wicked, Hobs, and the goat scamper playfully around the barn for several minutes while Rustin worked. Their antics kept me chuckling, especially when Hobs tried to climb onto the goat’s back to “ride” it bucking bull style. That didn’t work out as well as Hobs had expected because, every time he laughed or squealed in delight, the goat toppled over. Out cold.

  Sebille and I were laughing hysterically during one such moment when the air lit up with a snap of electrical energy. We whipped around to find Rustin standing about six feet from the area we’d identified as the wrinkle, arms lifted and hands open, palms filled with energy.

  In front of him was an area illuminated in soft silvery light. The lit area was roughly the same dimensions as the affected space we’d identified and was irregular, its edges cutting a wavy line in the dirt floor at Rustin’s feet.

  “Is that the wrinkle?” Sebille asked, still clutching her little dragon close.

  Rustin nodded, slowly lowering his hands. “And it’s bad news, I’m afraid.” He walked over to the magically lit area and crouched down, pointing to a spot in the dirt. “See how the energy is thicker here. That’s where the dimensional cross-over is the worst.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked him, moving closer and eyeing the area. It all looked the same to me.

  “The spell I cast coats settled magic more heavily. The thicker coating is on the part of the wrinkle that’s been here the longest.” He slid his finger along the line. “All of this is new.” He stood up and looke
d at me, his expression dire. “It’s moving more quickly than we’d thought. I’m afraid Madeline’s assessment of two days was conservative. We need to move quickly. As this thing grows in size, the speed at which it will spread will only increase.”

  My hopes plunged. “That can’t be! I’m already not sure I have enough time to do what I need to do.”

  Rustin glanced at Hobs, who’d climbed the cow pen wall and was staring at the cows. “There might be one thing we can try…”

  “Hello?”

  We turned toward the door, where the sunlight from outside formed an aura behind a widely-made man wearing rough clothes and a battered straw hat. He was carrying a dangerous-looking farm gizmo that looked like a giant fork with too many tines. The big man stepped inside, the loss of the sunny aura revealing Farmer Blue. “I didn’t know you folks were coming out again.” He slid a suspicious look over Rustin and then went wide-eyed at the sight of Sebille.

  My assistant scowled at him, her hand sliding protectively over Sadie.

  I stepped forward. “Mr. Blue. These are my friends Rustin and Sebille. They’re helping me figure out how to get Bessy back.”

  Blue skimmed a sad look toward the paddock and then back to me. “Lost two more this morning.”

  I’d been right. There were fewer cows in the barn. “I’m sorry. We’re working as fast as we can.” Even to me, my assurances fell flat.

  Meanwhile, back at the cow pen, jets of milk had started shooting into the air amid outraged mooing sounds. And there was cackling.

  Farmer Blue started to glance that way. I stepped in front of him, motioning to Rustin behind my back to retrieve the naughty hobgoblin.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Blue asked. “Is somebody stealing them?”

  I really wished it were that simple. I didn’t know quite what to say. The Blues seemed to understand that magic was real…or at least he did. Mrs. Blue appeared to be in denial. But that didn’t mean they’d comprehend, or be comfortable in the knowledge that a dimensional wrinkle was a “thing”.

  “Hobs!” Rustin whispered harshly.

  I struggled for something to distract the farmer. My mind was blank.

  Cackling noises sifted from the paddock area. Rustin gasped and jumped back. I could only assume Hobs had hit him with a burst of milk. My jaw tightened and I felt all the color leeching from my face. I was going to kill the hobgoblin.

  “You’re a Troll,” Sebille said, surprising everybody.

  Blue didn’t flinch, exactly, but his body language changed. He pulled himself straighter, his jaw went taut. “Yes’m. Third generation Land Troll.”

  She nodded. “You have any Bridgies in your gene pool?”

  Blue’s frown was one of thoughtfulness rather than displeasure. “Great Great Grampa Blue. He held the North Street Bridge for a century or more. Best Bridge Troll in these parts.”

  There was a scuffle behind me, and Rustin reappeared, a squiggly hobgoblin under one arm. Hobs was laughing, and Rustin’s face was covered in milk.

  Farmer Blue eyed the pair of them, his gaze narrowing.

  “Then you understand dimensional abnormalities?” Sebille said.

  I finally saw where the Sprite was taking him. Unbeknownst to humans, bridges often served more than one dimension as portals. One bridge in a key location can serve as many as five different dimensions. As a result, Bridge Trolls become adept at managing interdimensional traffic, as well as the intricacies of dimensional weirdness.

  Blue nodded, his eyes narrowing with understanding. “You think this here’s a dimensional fault?” He eyed the shimmering wall of magic Rustin had created.

  “A wrinkle,” Rustin corrected. “And it’s moving fast. My recommendation is that you move your animals to a spot out of the current trajectory to limit your losses.”

  Blue’s gaze turned sad. “Bessy’s gone?”

  I knew what he was asking. Ignoring the naysaying of both Madeline and Rustin, I shook my head. “I’m not going to let that happen, Farmer Blue. I promised I’d get her back, and I intend to do just that.” I could feel Rustin’s disapproving glare on my back, but I ignored him. “It is a good idea to move your animals, though, before you lose any more.”

  Blue nodded. “I’ll do that. Thank ya much, Naida keeper. We ’preciate yore kindness.”

  The sadness on his craggy face was nearly my undoing. It was clear to me that Blue cared a lot about his animals. I suddenly felt guilty for being motivated as much by Slimy’s disappearance as I was by the loss of his cows. But then I realized there was no shame in that. I felt the same way he did about losing my little green friend.

  “I’ll just take Adelaide home with me then.”

  We all blinked in confusion.

  “Adelaide?” I asked.

  He pointed a thick finger at the goat. “She’s got a hidey-hole in the garage, but she likes visitin’ with the cows.”

  “She’s a hoot,” I told him, grinning.

  He chuckled. “She is that. It’s time for her ta get her ration of grain. That’s why she’s screamin’.” He moved toward the goat, hand outstretched. He’d produced a short rope with a clasp on one end from somewhere. Probably from one of the many oversized pockets in his overalls. “Here, Sissy, Sissy.”

  Adelaide took a step forward, looking as if she might listen, then lifted her gaze to the giant fork he held in his hand.

  Blue expelled air. “I forgot. Addie’s afeared of pitchforks. We got her from a guy who liked ta chase her with a fork ta stop her screamin’.”

  I frowned, thinking that some people didn’t deserve to have furry friends.

  When Blue moved to set the pitchfork on the dusty ground, The goat jumped away and, with a final scream of unhappiness, dodged around him and ran right for the shimmering magic below the hayloft.

  A chorus of screams didn’t stop her and, unfortunately, she didn’t faint at the sound. She dove right through the magic and disappeared.

  “No!” Farmer Blue said, running forward as if he was thinking about going after her.

  Rustin grabbed his arm, stopping him just in time.

  A whir of movement and a low, gray form flew past as I reached for the distraught farmer.

  And before I could stop them, Wicked and Hobs followed the goat through the wall.

  8

  Into Wonderland

  I lost my mind. In full out panic mode, I dove after them, my hand plunging through the wall a second too late in an attempt to grab Mr. Wicked’s sleek, too-fast form.

  Sebille and Rustin both screamed my name and I stopped, though it just about killed me to do it. Tears burned my eyes. “Wicked!” I shrieked, sounding like a crazy lady. “Hobs!”

  I started to straighten, tugging on my hand.

  The magic wouldn’t release it.

  “Get away from the wrinkle, Naida,” Rustin said, moving closer and wrapping his hand around my arm. His fingers slipped right through my flesh and I looked up into his face to see his eyes widening, his gaze sliding to the insubstantial hand. “Oh, oh,” he said.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, trying to yank free again, but not having any better luck the second time.

  “I think I’ve used up all my energy stores,” Rustin said as his entire body blipped and went slightly see-through.

  Sebille looked at him with surprise, then glanced down at Sadie. “He needs to let his physical body go for a while.”

  I sighed. Of course he did. What else could go wrong? I jerked my hand again and then braced myself against the floor as Farmer Blue came over to help.

  “I’m gonna grab ya around yore waist, young lady. Don’t think I’m bein’ over-friendly.”

  I would have laughed at the idea if I wasn’t so devastated. “It’s okay. Thank you.”

  He nodded, wrapped the promised arm around my waist, and tugged as hard as he could, just about tearing me in two as the magic held onto me.

  Finally, when I thought he was going to literally split me in h
alf, I yelled for him to stop.

  I glanced at Rustin. “Can you make this let me go?”

  He nodded, lifted his hands, and disappeared.

  Sebille gave a little yelp as Sadie rose out of her grip, her colorful form bending and twisting as if from pain, and then disappeared with a soft plop and a wisp of multi-hued energy.

  The magic tugged me closer and real panic set in. I was sunk into it up to my shoulder. “Sebille…?”

  She forced her worried gaze to me. “What?” Her tone was angry, and I knew she was worried about Rustin and Sadie.

  “I think I’m…”

  I never got a chance to finish the thought. The energy gave one more small tug, as if testing the waters, and then yanked me completely through the wall. Energy stung my skin, biting me like a thousand angry bees. The ground changed shape beneath my feet. I stumbled forward, the momentum of my fall taking me several feet past the sizzling wall of energy.

  I slammed up against a tree. Fortunately, my hands smacking hard against the smooth bark kept me from hitting the pinkish surface with my nose.

  Falling to my knees, I struggled to draw air. My chest tightened, my lungs unable to expand and my throat swollen so that air couldn’t make it in or out. For one terrifying moment, I thought I was going to suffocate, but the symptoms began to ease after a moment, and I pulled a thin stream of air into my lungs. Not enough for comfort. But enough to keep me from passing out.

  I rolled over to my backside and leaned against the tree as an array of things sifted through my mind.

  The breathing problem slowly abated.

  The air burned my nostrils and tasted bitter on my tongue. I thought maybe something toxic was burning nearby, but I saw no smoke and no flame.

  With breath came an awareness of smell.

  A horrible smell.

  It was sour and putrid and…familiar. I grimaced down at my hands and my gaze flew to the shimmering wall of energy a mere ten feet away.

  There was a perfect handprint in the slimy, aromatic cow patty just inside the wall.

  “Ergh!” I slammed my palm onto the sharp-edged, yellow-green grass and rubbed hard. The blades scratched my skin and did little to remove the cow manure from my hand.