Olly, Olly, Oxen Frey

by Paul Manchester

  Finn and his mother ran to hide near the edge of the steps behind a thicket of luminous mushrooms.

  “That’s a frit!” His mother grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down lower.

  Above the waist,it was humanoid. Below the waist were the legs and tail of what reminded Finn of a tyrannosaurus. He wore a sort of toga over one scaled shoulder and across the opposite hip. It seemed more decorative than about modesty... as it wasn’t modest at all. Definitely male.

  The man’s jaw protruded in a reptilian way. He had no real nose. It looked like the nostrils you’d see on a snake. His ears, eyebrows, and cheekbones trailed up into horns that flared out to either side in elaborate curly-cues. He was bald and his pate arched out in back to a narrow point.

  “Are they friendly?” Finn could keep his eyes off the huge man-parts! Four? The creature had four giant, dangling, blue balls behind an enormous appendage that dangled like a suspended grandfather clock.

  “I don’t know much about Frits. They lived under the North Mountains. They shouldn’t be here in the south,” said his mother who didn’t seem to notice the humongous naked sausage.

  “This place is so weird,” Finn mumbled.

  There was a roar of laughter above them like the sound of a rock slide.

  “I kin hear ya,” rumbled the deep voice of the creature. “Yes! Weird it be. All life be a bit weird I’m a reckoning. Come out. I’ll not hurt ya.” With that, the giant sat down on a large rock and started prepping the giant hook for his fishing pole. The fishing pole seemed to be made of a long rib bone.

  Finn timidly stood up. He was a little taller than the giant’s knee. “Hello,” he stammered. “You’re not going to eat me, are you?”

  “Ah, a human, are ya? Well, that settles it. Ah kin’t be eatin’ ya now,” the giant chuckled and the echoes of the laugh filled the vast cavern and bounced about the darkness.

  “That makes a difference?” Finn couldn’t help but ask.

  “Frey above, ‘n’ Frey below is built o’ human whimsy. We can’t be ‘xistin’ without yar notions. No one here should be eat’n parts of ar very selves kin we? I hafta’ admit, ya smell a wee fishy fer a human. But, mebbe I’m smellin’ ta odder one.” The giant cast his line out into the lake.

  Finn resisted the urge to look back to where his mother was hidden, but his mother spoke up.

  “My name is Meryth. I didn’t know the frits came this far south,” she said.

  He kept forgetting that his mother had a name. Of course, she did. Meryth. Why should he be surprised at that?

  The giant casually looked down at the tiny creature addressing him.

  “Yer a tad big-speakin’ fer a toodle of fish-bait, but yer right enuf. We traveled southerly some time ‘go, ‘n’ we built us a city here by this’n lake. We follow the stone-fish. But, not many of us be left these times.” He tugged a bit on his line and yanked it out of the water and tossed it back in.

  “Do you get many humans down here?” asked Finn.

  “Nah,” the giant waved away the question. “Only one ta my memory years back and he be lookin’ fer somethin’. He looked a little like you but a bit older. But, he dinna find what he wanted. An’ no, ah didn’t eat ‘im,” he added with a toothless smile.

  “How’s the fishing?” asked Finn, changing the subject from eating humans.

  “Ah do alright. The fish here eat the metal in the rock and they’re always expanding the caverns. Which suits the frit. We like a bit of ore in our food. We get sorta grumpy without it.”

  Meryth’s face looked hopeful. “How long ago did you see this man?”

  “Oh, long ago... ‘bout the time we started buildin’ here in the south. Ah don’na think we reckon time like ya do up top. He were a bit older than this lad with longer hair, but sturdy-like and tiny like him.” He thought a moment. “He warn’t none too friendly.”

  Meryth whispered, “James?”

  Finn piped up with a hopeful smile, “But, we’re friendly? Aren’t we?”

  “Yer friendly ‘nuff. Yer nat’rally fussin’ o’er a big one like me, but ya seem okay.”

  “How do we get up to the surface? The tunnel is blocked.” asked Finn – hoping the frit might know something.

  “That little hole? Well, seems ta me that thar’s another hole four steps up. I s’spect ‘tis the one you want.”

  “Thank you.” said the surprised sea-chimp. “Finn! Let’s hurry!”

  Finn turned to follow her, then turned back. “You said that the – the frit were disappearing. Why?”

  For the first time the giant turned and gave Finn his entire focus. “Dunno why it’s happenin’. We be slow-like turnin’ to stone. It may be that our maker has forgott’n us.” He exhaled in a rumble and coughed out a mouthful of dust.

  Finn resisted his mother’s pull. “Is there anything that can be done about it?”

  “Ah don’na think a wee one like ye kin do much ‘bout it. But, ‘tis a nice thought, ‘n I thank ye.”

  The giant turned back to his fishing.

  Finn hesitated a moment. “My name is Finn. Thank you for your help. I do hope things get better for you.”

  It was strange to see such a wistful smile on a creature so large and alien. “Ah be Frayex, liddle ‘un. The frit be my folk and ay be ther king. None know what t’future may bring.” He sighed. “Fate be in the rocky veins of time yet ta come. It may be t’other human had somethin’ to do wi’ all this. Canna say.”

  Finn nodded, unsure of anything else to say. He turned to see his mother attempting to climb the first step. He picked her up and placed her on the step above, then shouldered his bag and climbed after her.

  Ruins of an underground city were visible in the dim recesses of the upper staircase. But they needed only to get to the fourth step and find the tunnel. Maybe he could come back and explore with Jack someday.

  Or maybe not. Of course they were going to go home as soon as they could.

  That’s if he could ever find Jack in this crazy place. Jack. Magic would find him! Jack had to be alive somewhere. He couldn’t allow himself to think any differently.

  The possibility of finding his father was huge! Was he still alive? He had so many questions. Was that his dad who was here? What had happened to his father?

  Chapter 32

  The Mother Tree

  Jenny gasped at the vast size of the Mother Tree whose branches and roots filled the entire valley. The moonlight revealed large gaping holes for eyes and a jagged abyss of a mouth amid roots which wore a rather self satisfied smirk.

  “You ATE him?” Jenny exclaimed.

  “Him?! He was made for eating!” dismissed the giant tree with a wave of a crooked branch. She seemed like a crotchety old lady. “That creature wasn’t pleasant to talk to at all.”

  Jenny didn’t know what to say to that. It was true. The captain wasn’t very pleasant to talk to. He wasn’t a very good person. But, to be eaten?

  The Mother Tree’s hollow eyes fixed on her. “So, missy, are you pleasant to talk to? I can’t get much out of these others. All they do is whine and wail. We’re just trying to decide if they’re guests, or if they’re dinner...”

  “YES!!” Jenny burst out. “I’m very PLEASANT! And the brownies are too!” (Though the brownies were doing little more than whimpering.)

  A thick branch reached over and glided a twig along the root bars of the eight caged brownies. “But, brownies sound rather delicious...”

  The shivering brownies began to cry.

  “Oh but they SING! And... they DANCE! They are ever so much fun!” Jenny shouted. “They SING!” She elbowed Nibs and Gibbie who were squeezed next to her in their vine prison.

  “AYE Aye! We SING!” shouted Gibbie, whispering, “Nibs – er... I know, De Wanderin’ Tree – remember it?”

  In a clear tenor vo
ice, he sang out:

  “Ah once met a tree, a comf’t’ble tree

  what loved all de birds and de breezes so free!

  She had a sweet brook– a wee comfy spot-

  ‘twas neither too chilly, nor either too hot!

  Not pixies nor squirr’l poop dinna much rile,

  her own sunny spot on her own sunny isle!”

  Nibs jumped in with another verse:

  “She pulled up her roots an’ she started ta walk.

  Wi’ a boat at de shore, she started ta talk!

  De boat said, “Come travel wi’ me on ze sea!

  Come fly like de wind!! On me ye’ll feel free!

  She straddled his bow an’ she sailed wi’ ze tide.

  Wit’ wind in her leaves!! Her branches stretched wide!”

  Gibbie began to sing harmony with the next verse which followed the adventures of the tree. Soon all the brownies jumped in!

  The brownies in the cage started beating percussion on the roots of their cage, and the melody grew upbeat and bawdy. The cage opened up with the tickling percussion, and all the brownies danced with enthusiasm – for their lives depended on it.

  The entire crew danced in a conga line around the nearby trees and along the winding root tops. They then launched into a rousing finale in front of Mother – and even Jenny had figured out the words by then:

  “She has a sweet brook– a wee comfy spot–

  ‘tis neither too chilly, nor either too hot!

  Not pixies nor squirr’l poop never much rile,

  her own sunny spot on her own sunny isle!”

  The trees and bushes swayed in time to the brownies’ song. Jenny was relieved that things were going so well.

  It seemed to be going perfectly until Jenny noticed something moving in the Mother Tree’s branches. The phooka!

  He seemed to be carefully pulling off large swaths of the Mother Tree’s moss, which hung in long curling tendrils from her branches like hair. He was stuffing it into a large bag that he carried over his shoulder. Neither the Mother Tree, nor her arboreal court had noticed the strange parasite yet, so Jenny decided to distract her.

  “Your Majesty!” She waved to catch her attention. “Can I sing a song too?” She racked her brain for a song to sing.

  The dark eyes turned their black gaze on Pirate Jenny with some curiosity. “Go ahead, little missy.”

  “Twinkle, twinkle, little star...”

  Jenny watched Footbe’s dark figure crawling amid the Mother Tree’s twisting branches.

  “How I wonder what you are...”

  Footbe needed to get out of there before the Mother Tree noticed him and dropped him into her giant mouth!

  Jenny kept singing, and when she finished Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, she quickly started singing Rockaby Baby.

  “... when the bough breaks...”

  The Mother Tree interrupted her there. “Why would the bough break? Is this song about maltreating trees by hanging fat human babies from them?!”

  “Oh no, Ma’am! It’s just a song – uh, I don’t know what it means! I uh –”

  “Then, why would you sing it!” demanded the giant tree as branches and roots snaked their way towards the girl.

  “‘Cuz – it’s a pretty song that puts babies to sleep –” Jenny had never really thought about the words before. “Hmmm ma’am, maybe you’re right. I never really thought about it before. ‘When the bough breaks the cradle will fall...’ At the end of the song I think the baby dies... or is probably hurt really bad. The song doesn’t make much sense at all. I can’t believe my mom used to sing that to me!” she mumbled somewhat abashed.

  The Mother Tree’s voice softened. “Little missy, you should always think about words. Words might be the most powerful magic in the world. Words can save life and they can kill.”

  Jenny could no longer see the phooka. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am. I should really go, ma’am. My parents are probably really worried about me and there’s some really important things to do before I go home.”

  The giant tree looked at her for a moment and then said, “You may go.”

  “Thank you ma’am.” Jenny said inching away. The brownies were all waiting for her in a clump at the edge of the clearing.

  As she turned, the Mother Tree spoke again, “But, don’t forget your friend.” A thick branch came out of her upper foliage, and wrapped in its coils was the phooka – looking thoroughly frightened. The branch stretched forward and held Footbe upside-down above the grass next to Jenny.

  “Little phooka, squirrels and birds belong in my branches. You do not.” She said with a gentle shake. “But, I know your tale from the gulls that visit, and know your purpose. You are late. I expected you long before this. You should have asked permission, but, go with my blessing.”

  A thoroughly abashed Footbe fumbled for words but in a higher voice than usual said, “I thank ya yer majesty fer yer understandin’ o’ the sit’ation.” He kept bowing and moving backwards till he reached the edge of the clearing, then with Jenny following close behind they traveled as fast as they could towards the beach and their boats.

  Jenny and the phooka traveled through the jungle in silence after the initial jubilation of their rescue quieted.

  Footbe finally spoke up. “Thank ye for tryin’ ta distract her.”

  “I didn’t want you to get eaten.” Jenny offered, feeling a lot of complicated thoughts. “But, I’m awfully disappointed about you wanting to sell my blood to the queen!”

  “Ah be appreciatin’ that,” the phooka responded. “An’ ya should know, ah never intended fer ya to be given ta the queen perm’nent like.”

  Jenny wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Ah jest had ta have a reason ta get close ‘nuff ta her ta kill her. She’s downright evil.”

  “She doesn’t seem very nice.” Jenny observed.

  “The Queen took everythin’ ah ever loved. She took me memories. She took me hope too.”

  The phooka didn’t elaborate, so Jenny asked, “What’s the moss for?”

  “It’s ta fix somethin’ the Queen did a long time ago. Ah’m startin’ ta remember things. Important things.”

  Chapter 33

  Mordette,

  The Wish Monger

  Mordette hated the Blue Queen. It was not an ordinary hate, like the way someone might hate Brussels sprouts or broccoli. Her hate simmered like pools of lava beneath a sleeping volcano. Like lava, Mordette’s hate also wore a thin, cool, hard crust so as to appear dormant to the casual observer. Erupting took a great deal of effort, and Mordette hated expending any sort of effort.

  “But, Asphixia,” cooed the enormous Mordette from where she sat in the shadows. “Why ever do you need me here? My market has a schedule to keep.”

  The floating Wish Market had been tethered to the roof of the palace for over five days, and Mordette had been locked in the dungeons ever since. She should have said no to the tea. But, Mordette loved a bit of tea after a long trip. It had been her undoing.

  “But, Mordette,” the Blue Queen purred. “As queen, I can no longer risk your precious safety – flying about dangerous territory with a valuable cargo. You might be attacked by pirates!”

  “Oh pooh. You know I am perfectly safe. I get on just fine with those little pirates. I have magic traps all over my island. And I’ve a business to run!”

  “My dear, when I arrived in Frey as a young slip of a girl, you took such great care of me. You took me into your home when I was all alone in the world. You must let me take care of you now.”

  Mordette looked at the stone walls around her. She cursed the day she first set eyes on that skinny, bedraggled frit. She was glad that she’d always kept her true name to herself, purely accidentally of course. Mordette never liked her birth name. Similarly, Asphixia h
ad never told anyone her real name. Asphixia was a persona that the young runaway had created while living with Mordette.

  Asphixia sighed sweetly. “Oh, and yes, you should have really warned me about those traps. How can my guards protect your island if my soldiers keep getting turned into small furry insects?”

  The Queen’s minions had been searching her island for the stock of wishes. Ha! She’d have no luck there! If those soldiers were lucky, their enchantments would last till Mordette could escape with her island, and the guards would be free of their evil employer.

  Mordette’s slug-like bulk inflated with irritation. “I’ve no need for your protection, Asphixia. You know I have clients waiting for me at all my stops.”

  Asphixia acted like an idea had just come to her. “Now Mordette, I’ve had some thoughts about that. It’s not good sense to make wishes available to just anyone. Why, only yesterday a miscreant snuck into the castle and assaulted my children with wishes. The poor children who survived have been screaming for hours – and you know it’s the fault of wishes in the wrong hands!”

  Mordette’s ears perked up. Not that she actually had external ears in the way you might expect.

  Asphixia was not quite sure what type of creature Mordette was. The Queen would have been surprised to learn that the Wish Monger was a nearly extinct relative of the hairless fuzzy-wiggle family. She was nearly as large as Asphixia – a bit slug-like and was quite possibly inspired by a child’s nightmare incorporating Jabba the Hut, and a drag queen. And though she did eat wishes like other fuzzy-wiggles are wont to do, she’d never turned into a wish herself. She’d just gotten bigger. And bigger! Mordette was capable of some magic, but Asphixia was unclear on the extent of those abilities. Mordette tried to keep it that way.

  Mordette feigned concern, “Why, Asphixia, that sounds just awful for you.” Though inwardly she was delighted with the news.

  “It was awful!” gushed Asphixia – trying to believe that Mordette actually cared. “So, you see, I need to have stricter controls over all the wishes in Frey. And... I need more wishes to take care of all these problems.”