by Dan Knight
~~~~~~
He was in his bedroom again. It was a dream. When he was a child he had dreamed of losing his teeth, and battling monsters, but somehow this dream was different. It was no ordinary dream.
Swinging his feet off the bed, the sun was high and its rays filled his bedroom through the patio door.
Beslan
The Black Dwarf’s airship cruised over the busy streets of Moab. Moving vans and trailer tractors and rental flyers lined the normally quiet streets. Fearful molemen packed their belongings into whatever transport they could afford.
They turned into an alley between a cobbler’s warehouse and a tailor’s shop. At the end of the warehouse, the alley broadened into a loading dock. Bays for airships ran the length of the warehouse and rose above the street.
Narrow alleys led away to other buildings. They turned into another alley and landed.
A burly dwarf and a gangly dwarf emerged from the cab. Both wore black uniforms, and baseball caps.
The burly dwarf opened a passenger door and stood at attention.
Nimrod stepped from his ship. His hood obscured his features, and gloves covered his hands. He flicked his hood off, and he admired his reflection in the airship’s black polish. His robe glittered, his boots gleamed, and his hair was perfect.
“Skelter, bring my staff.”
The gangly dwarf retrieved his staff from its compartment. “Your staff, sir,” said the gangly dwarf as he offered it to his master.
Nimrod twisted the staff, and power surged through the staff’s filigree. “Raw power is my favorite medium of exchange.” The staff hummed as it drew manna across the differential between the living world and the other side. The runes on his robe flickered. “Who needs cash when misery will do?” He chuckled softly, and he’s eyes narrowed.
“Come Helter,” he said, and turned to the back of his airship.
“Yes, sir,” said Helter. The burly dwarf closed the airship’s door, and followed the warlock.
“Don’t forget your backpack, Skelter,” he called.
“Got it, sir,” the gangly dwarf slung a pack over his shoulder. He fell in behind his heavy set colleague.
The warlock led the way, and marched up the alley. He stepped over trash and dodged the puddles to keep his boots clean.
An elderly goblin curled up in a doorway as they approached. He hunkered down and feigned sleep. He watched them pass through narrow slits.
At the alley’s end, Nimrod strode into the crowd bustling along a busy sidewalk.
Skelter drew alongside Helter, and the three dwarves carved a path through the pedestrians.
Commuters rushed to their jobs. Today fearful molemen joined the usual bustle. The crowds swirled around the dwarves. They hardly noticed the dwarves’ presence.
Drivers struggling to get out of the city jammed the streets. Ground cars crawled along in the traffic.
The warlock plunged into the street with his minions on his heels. The dwarves wove a path through the cars, trucks and vans. Drivers blinked as the dwarves passed. They wondered if they had seen a trio of ghosts.
Rental flyers and moving airships clogged the streets. Every vehicle was pressed into the service of moving.
Balding molemen struggled with levitators hauling heavy loads. All carried packages, briefcases, suitcases, or backpacks. It was hard to tell if they were off to help their employers pack or heading out of the city to sanctuary.
The warlock turned into a stream of pedestrians, and the odd trio deliberately marched against the flow. They forced many molemen to jaywalk or be toppled.
Bewildered, irritated molemen glared. Then, stoic and taciturn, they forgot about the dwarves and continued on their way.
The warlock tapped a traffic signal with his staff, and the lights changed. Brakes screeched, horns honked, and the traffic halted. The warlock and his dwarves crossed the street and entered a park.
The warm yellow light of Moab bathed the park. Miniature trees sheltered little paths of pebbled stone meandering through the park. Ignoring the paths, the warlock and his minions marched through the park. On the other side, he stopped on a grassy knoll and pondered his objective.
They faced a school. It occupied the block opposite the park, and it rose from the busy sidewalk to an ornate crown supporting the dome over the park. A broad staircase led up to three sets of double doors. A stone arch over the doors bore the school’s name.
Nimrod studied the school. Overwhelmed with déjà vu, he tried to remember something long forgotten. “I’ve been here before,” he mumbled.
“Master Nimrod?” Helter asked.
“Nothing, Helter, go back to not doing anything.”
“Yes sir.”
Nimrod twisted his staff, and the lights changed. Again, the traffic stopped. They crossed the street, and climbed the steps. The warlock snapped his fingers and the doors opened.
In the quiet hall, their boots clicked. A security guard sat in a small kiosk and watched a vid. Under Nimrod’s spell, he was oblivious to their presence. They passed the security guard.
Teachers lectured behind closed doors. The sound of grammar and arithmetic floated into the hall through the transom windows.
They marched to the principal’s office at the end of the hall. To the left, a hallway led to more classrooms. To the right, the hall opened into a lobby with several lifts, and it ended at a broad staircase.
“Helter and Skelter, wait for me here.”
“Yes sir,” they said in unison, and they each took a post beside the principal’s door.
Nimrod snapped his fingers and the principal’s door opened.
A matronly mole woman worked on a small desk surrounded by stacks of files. A small couch in front of her desk awaited unruly students. Filing cabinets jammed the remainder of her office.
The intruder startled her, and she stood up. His garish costume exuded a disturbing aura of malice. She eyed the staff, and wiped a hand on her frumpy dress nervously.
“May I help you sir?” She was taller than the black dwarf, but he still made her feel uncomfortable.
“Yes, I’d like to see the principal.”
“Visitors need to make an appointment. Principal Chapel is very busy. We’re short staffed and she’s making arrangements for the evacuation. She cannot see anyone until we move to Iron Mountain.”
“Ah,” sighed Nimrod. “It is precisely these circumstances, which are the reason for my visit. Once she has heard what I have to offer, she will no longer have trouble making arrangements for an evacuation. Indeed, I believe she won’t need an evacuation at all.”
“Sir, you’ll have to make an appointment. Whatever you’re selling, I’m sure she will be willing to talk to you after we have relocated with the other refugees.”
“Schoolmarm’s are all alike,” he sighed. “You never listen.”
Gazing into her eyes, he snapped his fingers, and the woman froze. He sucked the will out of her soul and emptied her mind. That was quick.
“Dear me, isn’t that better?” He smirked. “Now, I think I have an appointment with the principal.”
The matron waddled away from her desk. Carefully she squeezed between her stacks of files and the text books jammed into her bookcase. Without knocking, she opened the door and held it open for him.
“Master is here to see you, mum.”
“Margaret, I told you I’m not taking visitors or appointments today,” said the principal.
The matron stood frozen staring into blank space. Not looking at the principal, or acknowledging her, the dazed woman said nothing.
“Margaret, what’s wrong with you?”
Nimrod pushed the matron aside and walked into the principal’s office. He thrust his staff at her with a flourish. He played with his staff melodramatically, and then glared at the principal.
The Principal shot out of her chair and glared back at the warlock. She was a handsome woman who cut a figure of c
risp professionalism. She wore a business suit cut in viridian, and the friendly frog on the school’s crest was embroidered over her heart.
For a moment, the two adversaries stared at each other in a battle of wills. A friendly frog sitting on a lily pad smiled down upon Nimrod from a poster on her wall. The lilies on which the frog sat formed the words, Education for the greater good.
“Margaret, please escort this gentleman out.”
Nimrod smirked.
“Margaret?” She frowned at the Black Dwarf. Her sense of unease grew, and a tingle ran up her back.
“She’s mesmerized. Look it up if you can. I suggest you try the real dictionary, the one you keep in the closet. It’s the name of an ancient magician.”
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to offer you a magic show. My show will take all of your troubles away.”
“We’re short staffed and under-manned. I’m trying to make arrangements to evacuate. We have no time for magic shows.”
“Not even one by Cretaceous Clay?”
“You sir are not Cretaceous Clay. Many of my students saw his show only last week, and you are not Jack Clay. What do you do? Birthday parties?!”
“Ah, wit,” he snarled. “You cut me to the quick.”
“Whatever you are, sir, you are not welcome today. We are preparing for evacuation. All of the students with families have been sent home. We’re only open for the orphans who have no one to take them.”
“Oh good, orphans are the best kind for my purpose. Only the most innocent and vulnerable children are suitable.” He smirked again.
“Get out!” She raised her voice, “Get out!”
“And just when we were starting to have fun!”
He snapped his fingers, and the principal froze. “Gaze into my eyes and you shall be mine.”
She struggled, but her will was no match for his. Quickly, she fell under his spell as he bound her to his will.
“Order all of the staff and children to the gymnasium. Tell them Cretaceous Clay will do a public service announcement on obeying your teachers.”
Principal Chapel tapped the happy frog on her intercom, and the frog dissolved.
“Good morning everyone, I have a special announcement. Cretaceous Clay will honor us with a show. Mr. Clay will present a public service announcement on obeying your teachers. All teachers shall escort their children to the gymnasium.”
“Good Principal Chapel,” said Nimrod. “Shall we?” The warlock spun about, and darted out of the office with his new zombies in tow.
In the hall, the classroom doors opened and the teachers and their pupils poured out. The mole women stood by as their charges lined up. Little girls and boys stood in line beside their teachers. The happy frog beamed from their shirts.
Spying the bank of lifts, the warlock led his small entourage to the nearest one. He waved a finger and the doors opened.
“After you my dears,” he said, “All aboard.”
In a trance, the mole women entered the lift and his goons followed them. On the top floor, they stepped into a hall running the width of the school. They faced the gymnasium. Next to the lifts was the physical education office. On the other side was the swimming pool. Locker rooms for girls and boys were on either side of the pool entrance.
The warlock walked into the gym. Lamps hung from the gym’s rafters. Open bleachers blocked the windows facing the street.
Nimrod stood on the half-court line as the students mounted the bleachers. A holographic baseball cage was on one side, and a traditional volleyball court was on the other. The principal and the receptionist stood behind him, and his minions stood behind them. He watched with approval as the little groups of children filed in. Slowly they filled the lower rows of bleachers, and sat down. As the stragglers appeared and joined them, they barely filled the lowest bleacher.
“My, oh, my, we have so few today. Just the ones left behind. No matter. You will all soon be part of a much larger plan.” He flipped off his hood and revealed his pallid complexion and elegantly coiffed locks.
“Welcome to childhood’s end. I’m afraid Cretaceous Clay was not able to make it today. He sent me instead.”