“Oh hello. You're the nice young man I spoke to at school this morning.”
He nodded, stunned, still staring.
“Are those for me?” she asked, reaching.
“Uh no,” he stuttered. “My mother... she's dying.”
“Oh, I'm sorry?”
“I gotta go,” he said, walking hurriedly away. The garage door clicked.
“Okay sir. I'll see you tomorrow at school. I hope she's okay,” she said.
She turned to knock on the garage door. It slid up as Wooly lifted it. He stood right in front of her, staring at her face, as it was very close. She was so frantic that she leaned in on him.
“Wooly? I need your help!” she said frantically. For a brief moment, and for the first time, she looked at him closely. She looked past his scars and deep into his eyes. Something about them reminded her of an emotion she had hidden for many years.
He couldn't stop looking at her too – well not at her eyes but at her garishly made-up face. She swooned for a moment. He blinked.
“Wooly?” she said confused by her feelings. She looked away, trying to figure out what she was saying and thinking. Then she remembered what she came for. “Do you catch mice? Do you still catch mice?”
“Uhhhhh... yes...”
“I have mice! An ugly disgusting brown one and a sort of cute white one. You must get rid of them!” She hopped nervously close to him as he stood staring at the makeup.
“Okay, yes, I can do that.” Wooly walked backwards into his work area, around computers and lamps and other repair jobs. “Let me get some traps.”
She took a deep breath and stood still, finally feeling calm. Then she noticed an image on a computer monitor. It was of a horrifically clownish woman. “The computer must be on,” she thought. “Why would Wooly look at such a disgusting person?” It was odd. The woman looked right at her. She touched her face. The woman on the screen touched hers. She snarled. The woman snarled right back. She gasped. The woman gasped. Ethralia wailed in silence at the screen. It was HER reflection!
She straightened up in horror as Wooly rummaged through a work closet. She screamed and covered her face. Wooly leapt up and saw her as she scuttled away. He stood unsure if he should run after her or call it a night.
Chapter Seven: Moments Are a Lifetime
“I'm sorry, Alfred,” squeaked the white mouse. “I'm not perfect!”
“I'd like a spell that I can start and stop when I cast it.”
“I'm doing my best as great epic wizards go. I haven't all my faculties back, you know,” Tirnalth squeaked.
“What if I were chased by a cat – or worse, a ratkin?! I mean, would I change before or after they've eaten me whole?” Alfred’s squeak was shrill.
Tirnalth the mouse scrunched his nose. “Don't be grotesque! At that point your just minced meat, and the spell and your life have ended!”
“Oh boy! How long, Tirnalth? How long are we gonna stay like this?”
Alfred huddled in a dark corner under the sofa. Tirnalth was licking and cleaning himself like a mouse, trying to remember any dispelling or canceling spell he might have picked up in the studies of his own writings.
Alfred the mouse looked up. “I've never seen the underside of a sofa before... odd. I guess my mom is a pretty good cleaner. Well, at least she's gone now, so we can relax.” He sighed. Glimmering magic lights began fluttering around him.
“Ooop... that's it!” Tirnalth squeaked and sauntered off.
“That's it? That’s what?” Alfred asked. Then suddenly he exploded into gigantic size – well it was ginormous for a mouse but normal Alfred-size for Alfred.
“Oh!” Alfred screamed. He was under the couch. Literally!
Tirnalth grew back to normal next to the couch. “Oh yes, and when you do turn back, make sure you have enough space!”
“Ow! Ugh!” Alfred groaned, trying to crawl out from under the tottering couch.
Tirnalth reached down to figure out the physics of it and help Alfred free himself.
Just then the door opened and slammed shut. Alfred's mom leaned against it, breathing heavily, her hair and makeup, as it were – all in a mess.
“Princess Ethralia,” Tirnalth gasped.
She looked up to see him holding the couch unsteadily and Alfred crawling out. Tirnalth dropped the couch. It fell on Alfred, of course.
“Oooof!”
“Oh, sorry,” said Tirnalth to Alfred, turning his focus to helping Alfred crawl out. Tirnalth set the couch down. Alfred stood up, rubbing his sore back. His mother was frozen against the door in her garish makeup.
Alfred turned to Tirnalth and whispered, “That's not how she normally looks.”
His mother was trying to understand the situation. A powerful wizard – from long ago in a faraway realm, in another dimension or two removed from this one – was in her apartment conspiring with her son.
“I don't know if you saved us... or condemned us... condemned Alfred...” Princess Ethralia said.
“Princess Ethralia... never would I want any harm to come to you,” Tirnalth said sadly.
“Then why are you taking my son away from me?” she stood straight and tightened her fists at her sides. She glared at the powerful wizard.
“I never ever meant to, I swear,” Tirnalth said. “When I awakened from my long lost slumber, I had no memories, no powers. Alfred, you, something between Alfred and you awakened me. I was summoned here. How? I do not know. I do not remember.”
“He doesn't have his memory, mom. He didn't know what he was doing, is doing...”
Alfred’s mother turned to Tirnalth. “You don't have your memory?” she asked, casually picking up tissues from the floor where she had thrown them and began wiping her face.
“No milady, I, I...” Tirnalth had difficulty talking to her. Feelings arose within him. Along with them came memories that were not sufficiently connected, but he knew were tragic.
“He sacrificed himself for you, mom,” Alfred explained. “He gave up everything to save you and me! To send us here! But all the Dark Lord could take was his memories! Not his soul or spirit or magical wizardness...”
There was silence.
His mother was mysteriously beautiful without the makeup or fancy hairdos. She finished removing the makeup and re-bundled her hair. Then she spoke, “Is this true, Tirnalth?”
Tirnalth nodded, thinking it was a good explanation.
She came up to him and slapped him so hard that it startled Alfred and Tirnalth. Tears came to his old eyes.
“If you don't have your memories, then you can't protect us!” she cried. “You can't protect Alfred. You can't protect the land from the powers of Gorbogal, much less the Dark Lord, who was the Angel of Light!! The one that betrayed us all! He killed my family and took my sister and destroyed all that was thought to be good! Leave us, wizard! Leave us here in this realm and never come back! Close the doorway and stop this doom you bring upon Alfred and upon me! Why save me to love my son when you will only take him back to the most horrific of deaths! In the land of corrupt men! Why?! Leave us!! Leave us!! Close the door! Close the door...”
Tirnalth held his tears. He was a wizard, and he remembered that wizards do not cry. Alfred cried openly. Ethralia was screaming hysterically. Finally from exhaustion she wailed and collapsed on the floor. Tirnalth tried to prevent her from falling, but she pushed his arms away.
“Close... the door!”
Tirnalth stood apart from both of them. He began to fade, “Princess Ethralia, the door, it is not mine to open or close.”
She looked up in despair as he disappeared. He looked at her with sadness.
She turned to Alfred. He was looking down. He knew. She knew.
“I have to go, mom,” Alfred said, looking at her. “It will only seem like a moment!”
“Moments are a lifetime,” she said, reaching with her arms as he faded.
Chapter Eight: Tales to Tell
Alfred stood in an open pasture and wi
ped his tears. He smelled the clean air of a summer day. He saw sheep grazing. He took in a deep calming breath. An old shepherd walked by and nodded, “King Alfred, Savior of the Land.”
Alfred nodded back and smiled.
The shepherd continued on his way.
Alfred raised his arms to the warm summer sun. The breeze was filled with many things – from pollen to dust to tiny gnats and stout bumble bees. None of this bothered him. He heard birds chirping. He felt warmth flood through him, like an awakening of goodness inside.
Off in a distance he saw Loranna. She was walking over a knoll carrying a bow, a quiver of arrows and two rabbits. It was a successful hunt for a young girl. Seeing Alfred, she stopped at the top of the small hill. As if in a dream, she looked at him – only this time the dream was reality. The long wait was over.
Alfred walked up to her. She looked away as a tear streamed down her face.
“What's wrong, Loranna?”
“Where do you go, Alfred? Where does the wizard take you for seasons at a time?”
“I go home, to my mother.”
Loranna bit her lip. “You are the king of this land. We need you here.”
“I know. My mother needs me too.”
“When you are not here, King Alfred, things change, perhaps not for the better.” Loranna looked down at the rabbits.
“Oh, really? Well, we'll have to see about that.”
Loranna looked up and glared at him. Alfred looked away from her tense stare and toward her bow. “How's your shooting?”
She put down her catch, lifted an arrow and shot at a nearby tree. The arrow hit the center of its trunk.
“Sweet!” said Alfred, walking to the tree, pulling the arrow out and bringing it back. Loranna did not look as if she cared as he handed it back. “May I see your bow?” he asked.
Reluctantly, she handed it to him.
“I have thought a lot about you.” As he said this, Loranna looked up at him. “And the girls.” She looked down again. “There was some interesting news back home, my home. I learned about speed-shooting arrows. Do you know about this?”
Loranna's brows furrowed.
“See how you put the arrow on the left side of the bow for accuracy? Well, I think we got that wrong. There were some new videos I watched...”
“What's a video?”
“It's a show of... you can... uh never mind, what I saw was some archers who learned to shoot several arrows really fast. Look! It’s like this.”
Alfred showed her how to bring the arrow to the right side of the bow quickly. He had to look at the narrow nocks of the arrow to fit the string. Still, he rapidly fired off the arrow. It merely landed in the ground nearby.
“You need to make the nocks wider so you don't have to look down at the string when you notch it. And you can have a few arrows in your hand. Also, depending on the target's distance and covering, you decide how far you pull the string based on how fast you need it to go. It's not as accurate as the other way, but the speed of getting off the first arrow and shooting more could really be an advantage.”
Alfred showed her what he could remember about the way the archers from the videos held all fingers and thumb on the right side of the string of the arrow. He curled his fingers around the string and the thumb held the arrow. Alfred showed how he could hold arrows in that hand as well. He wasn't very good at it since he hadn’t practiced, but the practicality of it was clear in Loranna's eyes. She quickly took the bow and arrows and tried it, easily hitting the nearby tree – not accurately or at full strength but quickly with all three arrows. The smile on her face and gleam in her eye indicated that she immediately understood the potential.
“So yeah... you girls can work on that. I think that would really add, yah know, to the devastation of your arrow volleys!” Alfred's eyes bulged with a bit of eager expectation.
“Thank you, my King,” Loranna bowed, holding her bow tight.
“I'm sorry, Loranna,” said Alfred. “Im sorry I'm split between two worlds. I love them both. My mom is in the other one. And my learning is too. And in this one... you know... you're here.” Loranna’s eyes widened. Alfred gulped. “And… and... and all the others, you know... the knights, the castle, the land, yah know, who need my help.”
“Of course,” said Loranna, nodding with a slight quiver.
Alfred suddenly had an itch on his gulping throat. “Well then, uh...”
“Maybe you should go to the lords. I have to take this home.” Loranna lifted up her game and began walking away.
“Oh yes... right…” Alfred watched her go. “Loranna! Come to the Keep when you can.”
She waved casually as she went. “I'm not so sure about that,” Loranna said to herself, too softly for Alfred to hear.
Alfred hurried along the country road, knowing the way.
When Alfred got within sight of Grotham Keep, he was pleasantly surprised. Loranna's warning of negative change didn't seem to fit what he saw. Banners of all sorts, from the towers to the pavilions in the field and along the walls, fluttered in the breeze. A small town was forming outside the castle. A good dozen huts and shacks were built. Twice or thrice as many pavilions and tents were set up. It looked like a busy bustling place with many people.
There were also a good dozen wagons in caravans parked in nearby fields. Alfred took a deep breath and gave a sigh of relief as he walked along the road.
“Hey boy, move aside!” a man shouted from behind him.
He leapt aside and looked to see a man in darkened leather and goblin armour on a stout horse. A dozen men marched behind him.
He did not recognize any of them. They were all rough looking, mostly with dark beards, mustaches and scraggly hair. They all had similar and familiar leather and goblin armour. It reminded him of the handiwork of Broggia and Boggin.
“Hullo there, captain,” said Alfred with a wave.
The man on the stout horse just looked annoyed at Alfred and continued on. His men marched past, ignoring the boy. Alfred was still impressed. They had converted goblin weapons and armour and looked like an organized regular army.
Alfred followed behind. He wasn't upset that they didn't know he was the king. He was too excited to hear about these men and how Abedeyan, or probably Lord Dunther, had recruited such tough fighters. This was definitely needed, and Alfred was happy someone was doing it in his absence.
As the marching soldiers passed through the burgeoning village, Alfred stopped to wander around and wonder about. There were troubadours singing songs of the great Boy King Alfred and puppeteers doing shows about a little Boy King and goblins. There were gymnasts twirling themselves and catching metal rings and fire breathers adding a dragon to the Boy King's legendary accomplishments.
Alfred was more like a boy than a king, much less the monarch they spoke of in song and dance. He wandered about and wondered at the spectacle of it all. After laughing and taking in the wonders, he noticed that something was missing. None of the heroes he knew and fought with were there. And where were the children who fought with him in the Danken Fuhrs, the Dark Forest, against a bikehnbahr and in the dark dungeons against ratkins? Where were the brigands and knights? There were adults in gaudy outfits and younger folk who seemed like servants, but there were no free farm folk. The people and children, like Cory and Wilden with the spearboys or Niranna and Setheyna with the archergirls, who were represented by the entertainment and honored, were nowhere to be found.
“Who’s your master, boy?” a bloated, rich looking man said, pushing his way in front of Alfred. “Go along.”
Alfred stepped aside. He didn't want to cause a row. After all, he had been gone for awhile and felt he must first understand what had come to pass in his absence before he started to exert his authority.
Alfred walked under the eaves and awnings of the new buildings. From a distance and with all the banners and flags, they had looked grand. But up close, he saw that the structures were shoddily built, made of rickety wood, bent
nails, and muddy sidings. The ground near the entrance to the Keep was muddied and littered with horse droppings. ”Who is in charge of this mess?” Alfred wondered. Perhaps in the beginning, the upgrading of the Keep would create all this mess, especially without the king present to oversee everything. However, enough time had passed that the fortification should have been in better shape.
Men were coming to and fro. By the looks of tools and materials they carried, Alfred figured that most were carpenters or stone masons. There was much to rebuild after the ratkin and goblins attacked and much more to build up and make defendable.
Alfred slogged through the mud to the gate. A soldier in black leather and metal armour stopped him, “No children allowed.”
“What?!” Alfred was shocked. Did the soldier not know who saved this very Keep? “On whose orders?” Alfred remembered to ask.
“Move away, boy,” the gruff looking soldier said. Several men passed through with tools and materials.
Alfred was upset. He slogged back down the slope to the shanty village. He must find someone there that will know who he is! He tripped and fell in the mud. Now, this was too much. “A mouse?! I should turn into one! But what if they stomp on me? Yikes, what's a king gotta do to get in his own castle?”
“Here, hurry it up!” an old man said at the nearest hut. He was sorting tools and boards newly arrived on a wagon. Alfred looked up at the old man, who wasn't paying much attention to him. He continued his work, tossing down a hammer, a bag of nails and a stack of boards. Alfred quickly grabbed them up.
He saw a few laborers heading up to the Keep's gate. He hurried along with his items, glopping through the mud again and breathing pretty hard. As he got closer, he covered his face with the boards. He was short compared to most of the other tired men but blended in with them, trudging along with the hard working laborers.
He passed through the gate and looked about. He heard the clanking of iron on iron and then saw Broggia and Boggin still hammering away at various iron objects. It appears their latest project included nails and wood braces, likely for the building upgrades.
Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King) Page 4
