Lore of the Underlings: Episode 4 ~ The Letting Pen

by John Klobucher

he stopped himself to wonder something. "So that's when we changed course to go chasing ghosts?"

  Vaam seemed relieved. "That's right."

  John Cap clapped.

  "And you asked me to tell you all that I knew of the legend of Syland's Lost Folk?"

  "It's true."

  "Yes, I see. Ah, that must be? the bumpy road where I lost track. Red rocks to the noggin will do that you know? But skipping one's breakfast, that doesn't help either. Not to mention lost lunch. Then no filling dinner? Well, you can forget about it!"

  "So let's go over that part one more time." Vaam's tone was quiet again and patient.

  "The part about finding some friends to bring back? That much I always had in mind. Or do you mean the part about lunch?"

  Vaam put a finger to her lips. "Shhh. Just listen till I'm done telling."

  She waited for him to be settled then told.

  "I was so foolish in our first attack, thinking to out-trick the Trickster himself, expecting to sneak into his world unseen and with us alone succeed. Just strong John the hero, brave Ogdog, and me. But we learned the hard way that we would need help to prevail in the darkened Underland, now so hopelessly enslaved, enchained so deep within evil's heart.

  "Yes we failed and miserably too - except for setting you free, long-lost Uncle, and that was by accident. No. There was no choice now but to find an ally, somewhere where there were yet peoples free. If such a place there was. And so as we cowered and licked our wounds we wondered and dreamt who they could be.

  "The compass, at least, was no friend to us. To the north lay naught but the Steppes of Nor Dool, which turned to a permafrost that stretched for thousands of leagues to the Frozen Sea where an ice-floe armada ruled. The song of the south offered even less solace, singing of sure and grotesque death for any who passed that way. Such a merciless place it was. A jungle land of hellish hot that boiled the blood and left the flesh to rot away in hours or less with little evidence of its victims - serpent-bit, fever-pitched, ravaged by sickness down to a thick and sticky tar that was one minute man then putrid pool. Westward? O the world just ended, out at the edge of the final frontier where the rising moon met the setting sun. Old myths told of another All there, a whole new world for those who dared to fly - but none who ever tried returned to tell their tale.

  "So what way was left but to look to the east? Of course we knew of that continent island out across the Ocean Sea, there by the bed of the waking sun at the far where the arc of the world fell away. Every child of Merth had heard of Fargonne, the name by which we called that land. But its peoples and ways were a mystery, cloaked or concealed and well-defended, shielded from sight by a mighty hand. Many a sailor's shanty warned how few slipped by their western fleet, fierce and armored to the teeth, a thousand swift ships strong. And fewer still made it on to shore to face the sharp spikes of their songful war men, the fearsome and long-renowned Guardians.

  "Yet now was our prayer to find these tales true, to be overwhelmed by their deadly do. So we set out to journey across the sea and plead for the conscience of their king.

  "We'd need their armies. Their navy too. And just how was I to convince them so? Some strange-storied girl of seventeen years who appears from nowhere with two stranger men? How could I make believers of them? Or make real the doom that awaited all if they failed to join our cause? The maw that would swallow their world as well? I pondered it all the way there.

  "Meanwhile there was something odd in play, a scenario I did not expect. Like an actor too soon left the stage their fleet was nowhere to be seen. Not the smallest boat on the empty sea. Before long we would land and learn why.

  "I had good reason to be suspicious. And an all too familiar chill in my bones. Of course I should have known?

  "The evil I feared was already here. His mark was everywhere we looked. All within the Grievil's reach.

  "No Fargonne remained to save our souls. This land was all but lost. Now what? We had no plan, no hope?

  "Dear Uncle, how lucky you already knew just a little about this island, these folk. For in that dark hour your legends revealed the clue and showed us what to do. We would have missed it without you."

  Morio, cheery red, was ready to burst. "The Clue!" he blurted out at last, gleeful, unable to hold himself back. "Surely I didn't forget about that. Its words, Miss Vaam, to be exact: 'Keep safe the Semperor's Secret Treasure, deep in your heart where the Wild things are.' You're welcome and thanks for bringing it up - ever my honor to help of course. And what better rulers than friendship and love to measure the depth of one's heart in the end? But? if you don't mind giving me a clue too? where was it we saw that again?"

  Vaam drew a line in the air with her hand. "Carved into a lonely rosewood tree in a forest of iron and rusty leaves. A day away from the Semperor's city. You were able to read the runes then told us the Treasured fable."

  "My pleasure. I hope it entertained you."

  "Uncle, your stories always do. But this time we entertained the idea that the fairy tale was true. And upon it rewrote the plot of our mission?

  "That night we turned south and traveled by stars up over the mountains and into the wild. There we made a marsh our camp, atop a wide tuffet of swamp grass, then flew out each day our separate ways to search for buried treasure. On the third day nature gave them away - by a circle of birds black and high in the sky spied from afar by Ogdog and me.

  "But we had to be sure that this wasn't a trap. It did seem we'd found them too easily. There in plain sight and just for me, the one the Misleader most wanted. If these were the agents of you-know-who they'd have to work harder than that. So we fashioned a nice little ruse of our own and made phantom menaces of the ogs."

  The round man applauded, pleased as punch. "And the rest, as they say, is history!"

  "Is everything clear now 'O?" asked John Cap. "Do you get what our aim is here?"

  "Oh yes, of course? at least I think so. But perhaps I'm still feeling some effects of having been left in limbo so long - tends to make for a wandering mind you know. So if you could put it in one tasty nutshell?"

  Vaam stood up. Her voice was clear. "We must gain the trust of this guarded folk so they'll hear our tales and join our quest."

  Morio had a hand cupped to his ear. Soon he was nodding vigorously.

  "Sounds good to me! Let's go! Oh - but shouldn't we round up Ogdog first?"

  Vaam spread her palms in a sign of calm. "I welcome your passion but we must stay patient. Let them come to us on their own. The leaves of this book will unfold in time. As for Ogdog, he's found a job to do, albeit one you helped him happen into. We'll see him again when it's done."

  Morio looked a bit deflated. John Cap tried to perk him up.

  "Maybe 'O can be in charge of starting to think about our route back. We'll need to go a different way seeing that it will be on foot."

  "Yes, I think that's a fine idea." Vaam gave her young friend a grateful wink.

  "Have you still got that map of yours 'O?"

  In a moment of panic the moored man went pale, blood drained from his moon-like face. "The map?! Oh my! With all the commotion? I wonder if it's where I?" And he reached for the thick sock around his right ankle.

  His fingers went fishing and finally found the what that they sought and pulled it out. His pallor waxed back to rosy relief. "You know, I favor a heavy stocking and it has once again served me well. Nothing's better in dark times of crisis like this. You really should try it, John Cap!"

  "Sure?" said John Cap quizzically. "Next time I go shopping."

  Morio hardly heard the young man, so busy he was at working his find. At last it opened up. From a tiny square that fit in the palm unfolded a large sheet of leafy parchment. A long, ragged edge gave it the look of a page torn hastily from a book.

  He turned the loose leaf over twice then around and upside down in a squint. "I see that the eyes no longer have it," he noted to himself. "Nay? it's still a measure dim in this room to study cartography such
as this - a golden example of olden arts too fine to size up in the slightest darkness."

  He lifted the map toward the beam streaming in and pulled it taut between his hands. "Not beyond the shadow of a doubt but at least I can make some things out now. Border lines and legend runes? a title, 'Sempyre of Syland,' atop? It's bound to help us navigate, if just to show the state we're in."