Have Wroom Will Travel

by Jim Conder

  As the two of them left the ark-ade, two sets of greasy eyes followed them.

  Susan set down her reading with a sigh. Constant terrified screams proved to be to much of a distraction even for her powers of concentration. She looked up in time to see the last of the sea monsters amble it’s way to shore. People ran past her in terror, She closed her book and stood brushed the sand from her suit, and reached into her bag for her wand.

  The mermen had reached the shore. Their webbed feet ambled along, their green gills flapped in the air. Faces like frogs made strange gurgling growls.

  “Quail before us puny land dwellers The Day of The Mermen has arrived,” shouted Eh-thel, “we shall wreak havoc upon your cities and destruction upon…”

  “Have you considered letting someone else do your dialog?”

  Eh-thel whirled to see the source of the interruption. Susan stood in front of him, legs slightly apart wand, crackling with energy, in her hand.

  “Because frankly it seems a little corny and dated,” she said.

  “Who dares interupt me?”

  “Did you actually just say ‘who dares’? Sad really,” Susan said shaking her head sadly. The she looked the Merman in the eye. “Susan Crone, witch,”

  “A sand witch?”

  “Sand dirt, grass, whatever,”

  “Well, littlle land witch, I am Eh-thel leader of the Mermen, and Sorcerer Supreme of the Seas.” He said, holding his trident above his head. “I cause the typhoons that smash your little ships. I create the whirlpools that suck your sailors to their watery graves. I am master… .”

  “Anything you can do, I can do better,” Susan said, calmly. Then in case he hadn’t understood she repeated,”I can do any thing better than you.’

  “No you can’t,”

  “Yes I can,”

  “No You can’t”

  “Yes I can”

  “No you can’t, no you can’t no you can’t!” said Eh-thel stomping his foot.

  “Yes I can , yes I can , Yes I …ah hell with it, Malleforcanium Amphibiosous!” She said. A streak of blue flashe d from her wand, transforming the nearest merman from frog-man into merely frog. Eh-thel looked at this, then back at her.

  “Well… um, Well . . Can you bake a , a , y’know one of those pastry things with fruit in’em?” he asked.

  “A pie? Well to be honest, no,” she admitted.

  “Oh, “said Eh-thel with a shrug, “Actually neither can I.”

  “Attack Her!”he shouted pointing at Susan. The other merman looked from Susan to their ribbiting comrade and back. One of them looked at Eh-thel.

  “Errr, why exactly are we invading the land any way,boss?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” piped up another, “I mean, it’s pretty dry up here.”

  “And I’ve heard you can’t get a decent pickled herring up here anyway.” said a third.

  Eh-thel looked at them, his froggy mouth opening and shutting in disbelief.

  “So we’re all just gonna head home then,”said the first merman. The merman all turned and began ambling back into the see. Eh-thel watched them go, then he turned to Susan.

  “Well ain’t that just a kick in the head.” he said, before following them back into the sea.

  Susan watched them go, waiting till they’disappeared before returning to her blanket and book. She smiled a slight smile, the beach had turned out to be more fun than she had thought it would be.

  “Damien!”

  Dammein turned to see who had called him, then gave a small groan and placed his thumb and forefinger to his eyesockets as though he’d developed a sudden headache. Glod and Grog ran up to him.

  “Long time no see,” said Grog.

  “Yeah, everybody thought you was dead,” Glod said. “Guess you can’t keep a good vi. .”

  “Yes obviously I’m alive,” said Damien quickly.

  “What are you doing here?” Grog asked.

  “I’m on vacation if you must know.”

  Both men seemed to find this extremely funny. Well very funny, they didn’t know the word extremely.

  “Good one man, good one,”

  “Yeah like someone like you’d take a vacation.”

  “Seriously, what’s up?” Grog asked, “There like some secret idol buried around here that can help you call forth an evil spider god?”

  “Oo, ooh, I heard the ancient traingle of Zamfirand is buried around here somewhere,” Glod said, “It’s said to grant whoever finds it vast demonic powers.”

  “Or is one of those ancient tomes that teach you to raise the dead?”Grog asked, “C’mon Damien clue us in, what are you looking for?”

  “Well as a matter of fact I am searching for something.” Damien said

  “What?”

  Glod looked even more puzzled than usual as he watched Damien and Maggie walk off.

  “What do you reckon he wanted with a snow cone stand”

  “A snow cone?”

  “Yeah right,”

  “Who knows?”Grog said with as shrug, “probably part of some plan to rule the world?”

  “Yeah, he’s an evil one, sneaky too.”

  “Gets it from his old man.” Grog said, “The house of Draco always made some first rate villains.”

  At the snowcone stand of Winswand the wizard, Norville Winswand himself did the serving. A skinny wizard with the sort of scraggly beard often grown by people who shouldn’t wear beards, but can’t seem to realize this, Winswand had long ago traded in his long robes for more practical wear, a shirt similar to the one Damien wore, and short trousers with deep pockets. A spectacular failure among the halls of magic, Winswand had only ever managed to perfect one spell, assuming he only did it on a small scale. Still he’d finally found a use for it.

  Maggie watched intently as he placed thre paper cones into holders, then cast his spell, calling up three very small, very localized blizzards. After the cups had filled with snow he poured colored liquids over them.

  “What flavor do you want Maggie?” Damien asked.

  “Um, strawberry, I think Mistress Crone would like grape.”

  “One strawberry, one grape, and one blue rasberry,” Damien told the wizard.

  “Who were those men?” Maggie asked as Damien paid the wizard.

  “Um, just old aquaintances,”Damien answered, as they walked back to the beach. “They worked for my father. “

  He looked at Maggie. “If you don’t mind can we keep those two men a secret from Mistress Crone.”

  “Why?”

  “Please, Maggie?”

  “You’re in love with Mistress Crone, aren’t you?”

  “What?” He stopped an looked at her,”Why would you say that?”

  “Well you show all the signs,” said Maggie, taking a bite of her snow cone.

  “What signs?”

  “You argue constantly, that always comes first, then you kiss,” her brow wrinkled was she worked out an unfsamiliar word, “passy-onate-ly.”

  “pasy… Passionatly? Where did you hear…?” He suddenly spotted to rectangular lumps in the cloth bag Maggie had been carrying. He reaced down quickly and grabbed it.

  Books.

  Not magical tomes, which would have been to large, but small books with paper covers, and titles like The Thief and the Dragonkeeper, and the Madde for thine love.

  “Romance novels? Does Mistress Crone know you have these?”

  “Er, no,” said Maggie,”You won’t tell her will you?”

  Damien looked at Maggie and smiled.

  “I’ll keepyou secrets if you keep mine. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  The inn they stayed at that night stood in a secluded spot, surounded by palm trees and away from the main strip. Maggie and Susan shared one room, Damien took the room beside them. Each room had a balcony overlooking the ocean.

  Susan stepped out on to hers to watch the sun stting over the sea. She looked to the side to see Damien staring out, with a far away look in his eyes.


  “Good evening,” he said without turning.

  “Good evening Mr. Taft.”

  They sat in silence for several minutres before Damien asked:

  “What were your family like?”

  “Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “I was raised by my aunt if you must know,” she said, “My parents died when I was two.”

  “How?”

  “Eaten by bears.”

  “Really?” He finally turned to look at her.

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmph, some people have all the luck,”

  “He wouldn’t tell you what he wanted?” The tall man in the black robes paced slowly back and forth in front of Glod and Grog. He wore a medallion with an odd geen jewell in it, around his neck, that he kept fiddling with absentmindedly.

  “No boss,”said Grog.

  “Well he did say he wanted snowcones,” Glod added.

  “Snowcones?” said the man in black,stroking his goatee thoughtfully, “I wonder if… . devious, yes devious.”

  He looked at the henchmen. “What of the two women with him?”

  “The girl didn’t do much, except people at the ark-ade said they’d never seen anything like her at Whack-a-Gnome,” Glod said.

  “Whack-a-gnome?”

  “It’s this game,” Grog explained,”where these gnomes run around under a board and stick their . . “

  “Yes, Yes I know what it is,” the man waved his hand irritatedly. “Amazing reflexes, or possibly astounding precognative abilities. Hmmm,”

  “She won a stuffed bunny.” Glod supplied.

  “A stuffed bunny? Odd. An idol to the deadly rabbit god of

  Tralg, perhaps? Hmmm, what of the other one?”

  “Well, everyone said she stopped an invasion of mermen, all by herself. “

  “Interesting,” the man in black looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “He’s picked up some powerful allies, I wonder what he’s planning.”

  He gave a slow evil smile.

  “Well whatever it is, I think we should be part of it.”

  The bamboo raft made landfall at Kroy. The natives disembarked, bought a few souvenirs, and continued northward on their quest. The rythmic and annoying sound of island drums accompanied their every step in this vast wasteland of civilization.

  The next morning Susan awoke early, dressed and walked out onto the beach. Damien sat out at a table behind the inn, drinking a cup of coffee. Susan sat down beside him.

  “I must admit I’m surprised to see you’re an early riser, Mr. Taft,”

  “Late to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy wealthy and wise,”he said.

  “Wise?”

  “Well a wise-ass anyway,” he said with a smile.”what are you doing up so early?”

  “It’s my usual time,” She looked out at the beach, devoid of people so early in the morning. “Very peaceful this morning.”

  She stretched and winced.

  “Something the matter?”

  “I’m a bit stiff,” she replied. “I’m not used to travelling so far in a single trip. Plus I think I slept wrong.”

  He stood up and walked behind her. He began to knead the stiff muscles in her neck and shoulders. She resisted slightly, then relaxed.

  “You know Mr. Taft, I could possibly learn to tolerate you, if you weren’t such a scoundral,”

  “Oh, c’mon. everyone need a good scoundral in their life,” he said.

  “Yes, well your friend back at the tavern in Gorman seemed more my type of scoundral,”

  “Which one?”

  “The blond one with the green clothes,”

  “T’kris? Oh you wouldn’t like him, he’s a pirate. Nasty fellow when you get to know him,”

  “He seemed very charming,”

  “Just an act, trust me. No I think you need a more down to earth scoundral. Someone sincere, Somebody not so arrogant.”

  “You mean a master of humilty like youself,”

  “Exactly,” Damien said. Susan stood and turned to look at him.

  “Not to worry Mr. Taft, I’m not the sort to be taken in by false charm,” she said. “Anyone’s.”

  She walked away from him and down the beach. Damien smiled after her.

  Widowmaker rumbled through the sky as Damien led Maggie and Susan toward the Isle of Oykot. It took them most of the day, partly because of the distance, but mostly because, unlike most men, Damien enjoyed stopping along the way. Maggie pointed this out to Susan.

  “Hmmph,”said Susan

  “He’s kind of good looking don’t you think?” said Maggie.

  “Hmmpph, a little,” said Susan, who was never agreeable if she could help it.

  “And a good cook , too,”

  “I’ve had better,” said Susan, who couldn’t remember when.

  “And he puts the seat back down when he leaves the outhouse,”

  “Yes well, “Susan looked at her pupil,”What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I grew up with twenty-six brothers,” Maggie said solemnly,

  “You’d be amazed at how important that can be.”

  A group of grass skirted natives made their way northward on their quest, stopping at villages and asking highly personal questions.

  In the city of Lander a greenish gas had risen from the pit and drifted across the city. For a few days people complained, but then everyone stopped. Any visitor to Lander might have remarked on the lack of people in a once bustling city. On the other hand there were a large number of incredibly lifelike statues.

  Only the flying monkeys remained, screeching and flying about the city.

  The vines crept over the city walls and over buildings.

  Maggie stared in utter fascination. Lyrtle had been different, But Oycot was foriegn! Wooden building with paper doors lined the streets. All the roofs ,which were covered in strange curved tiles, seemed to curl up at the corners. On every street corner sat a strange large box, which if you put money in it, would give you a can of beverage. Usually something fizzy and sweet, but sometimes beer, whiskey, or something Mr. Taft called socky. He said she wasn’t allowed to try it, though he tried to get Mistress Crone to drink up.

  Even the people looked foriegn, with golden skin, pitch blck hair and dark eyes, shaped like almonds.They all wore fancy robes and sandals with stockings that had a seperate place for the big toe. They all spoke a language completely unlike her own, and everyone kept bowing to each other. They all had cigarettes and smoked like smoked the chimney of a blacksmith’s forge.

  Flying over the city would have been difficult, so they’d landed outside and gotten on something called a shinkansen, or pullit train. A group of coaches had been hooked together, and put on rails. A team of dragons were harnessed to the front and pulled it very quickly into the city. A man in the train had pinched Mistress Crone’s bottom, so a frog got off the train when they stopped.

  When they’d reached their inn, Mistress Crone had a problem.

  “There are no beds in these rooms!” She said,”We’re paying good money,and they expect us to sleep on these mats on the floor?”

  It got worse when she discovered the outhouse facilities. The Oykotians had very nice bathrooms, but felt that a hole in the floor would be much more hygenic than anything you could actually sit on.

  Furniture in Oykot sat low to the ground, with not a chair in sight. At dinner they kneeled on cushins by the table. Maggie’s legs started to cramp and she had to rearrange herself. Mr. Taft seemed comfortable that way, and sat like that all through the meal. Mistress

  Susan would have allowed her legs to drop off below the knees before she would have admitted that Damien could do something she couldn’t, and continued kneeling as well.

  Maggie picked up a smll deep fried ball and popped it in her mouth. It had a strange taste, the batter had a lot of cabbage init„ and the stuff in the middle was awfully chewy. Susan picked one up and eyed it suspiciously,

  “What’s this?” S
usan asked.

  “Takoyaki, deep fried octopus.” he replied. Maggie gagged into her napkin, and neither woman would eat a thing without a description first.

  The missing pinky fingers and tattos on his arm marked Shinya Jones as a man not to be messed with, at least to the common people. The wrinkles around his eyes and the lines on his face gave the same message to his peers. No man survived long in Oykot’s criminal underground without a highly unusual degree of cunning.

  His dark eyes concentrated on the man in front of him. Foriegners were not to be trusted, wizards even less so. Multiply this untrustworthiness by a factor of twelve, and you had Shinya Jones feelings for the man in Black Robes sitting in front of him. The House of Draco excelled at being untrustworthy. Shinya also wondered about the strange green jewelled medallion around the neck of Vlad Draco. draco kept playing with it as he spoke.

  “One child will not be to difficult for your ninja, I should think.” said Vlad Draco, steepling his fingers in front of his lips.

  “One witch-child Draco-san,”

  Draco nodded, and placed a large bag of gold on the table.

  “I believe this should cover the cost of any difficulties,”

  Chapter 6

  Up from the Depths

  One hour after leaving Jones-san Vlad Draco stood upon the shores of Oykot. A pity that Damien had taken it upon himself to act independantly, he’d need some persuasion to be brought back into the fold. He had not been able to discern Damien’s plans, but he obviously needed the two women.

  Of course it occured to Draco that Damien might have a backup plan. If so, then some money had been wasted, but then they’d simply kill the girl, no real harm. The youngest would of course be the easist for Jones-san’s ninja’s to get, provided that the other two were not around. Draco hadn’t mentioned to Jones the little distraction he’d planned. Criminal though he might be, Jones was Oykotanese at the core, and might not take kindly to seeing half of Oykot destroyed, though frankly this sort of thing happened on a regular basis anyway.

  He took off his medallion clenched it tightly in his fist, raised his arm and looked out to sea and smiled.

  “Deminacarnius explosivious!”