Epic Farm Boy

by Sam Ferguson

  The mist that was ever present in the region permeated all things. From the moment he stepped across the border into Lickedintime territory, Simplin’s clothes had been constantly damp. His hair hung in moist clumps about his face and shoulders, and his hat was drooping something terrible. He still couldn’t figure out a spell to abate the fine, light rain that seemed to be eternal in this land, but he had learned to cast a spell that would heat the prevalent moisture in such a way as to use it for all manner of application. He found that he could form the water droplets into shapes and implements, and that the warmer droplets would repel the cooler droplets, which allowed for Simplin to craft a continuous buffer that surrounded him and offered protection against the dampness and the cold.

  By early morning of the third day of travel he came upon a town. By the looks of it, it was not the great city that the gnomes had taken Lucas and Mulligan to, but at least it might provide shelter, and the opportunity to have some real food.

  As he lumbered into town, slogging through the mud laden streets and pathways, he caught the stares and looks of the locals. They appeared to dislike strangers.

  Or at least this stranger he thought.

  “Good morning, sir,” Simplin said as he passed a gruff looking man loading a wooden cart.

  “What’s the good of it?” the man replied as he strained to hoist his cargo of burlap bags.

  “A new day brings new opportunities,” Simplin said in an attempt to explain his greeting. “I was just wishing that the day will be good for you.” When the man answered with only a grunt, Simplin offered, “Can I help you out?”

  The man stopped in mid lift. “What are you after?” he said with suspicion creasing his brow.

  “Not much, a place to stay warm and dry, mostly my good man,” Simplin said with a flourish of his hands as he focused his magical attentions on the bag the man was holding. Instead of responding with the awe and gratitude Simplin had anticipated, as the bag began to float away from his grasp, the man jerked and flailed after the drifting sack.

  “No sorcery, no sorcery allowed!” he cried. Simplin ceased his levitation spell and the bag dropped heavily to the ground. It split open and spilled its contents about. “Now look what you’ve done, you cursed witch!” the man railed at Simplin.

  Simplin bristled. “I’m not a witch, witches are women.”

  “Bah!” the man hissed. “Witch, wizard, warlock, there’s no difference. They all mean trouble!

  “I-I’m sorry, sir, let me clean that up,” Simplin said.

  With the town’s morning foot traffic picking up, the attention of others was inadvertently brought on by the man’s cries of “foul enchanters ruining this town,” and “magic has no place in the modern world.” Very soon, a crowd had gathered to assess the situation and someone alerted the local peace keeper who pushed his way through the gathering.

  “What in Bloy’s Beard is going on? Who’s disturbing the peace?” said the peace keeper, his bristling moustache fluttering with his words. “Ralstine, why’s that bag spilt all hither and yon?”

  Ralstine, the man Simplin had tried to help, said, “This low life magic caster just up and accosted me and threw my cargo all over the mud!”

  Someone from the crowd yelled, “Didn’t you read the sign on the way inta town?”

  Another, “Yeah, no magic allowed! You’re gonna stink up our town!”

  “But, but, I was just trying to help,” Simplin stammered in defense, “I didn’t know that magic was banned from your town.”

  The peace keeper grabbed Simplin brusquely, twisting his arm behind his back in a painful contortion. “You’ll be paying damages along with a stint in my jail, stranger,” he snarled at the startled wizard. “But first, you’re gonna get this messed cleaned up the good ol’ fashioned way.” The peace keeper clapped a strange cuff around Simplin’s wrist, and the wizard found himself unable to perform even the simplest of spells. “Don’t even think about using magic now,” the peace keeper said. “The more you try to cast spells, the tighter that cuff gets. If you don’t learn your lesson early on, you’ll lose your hand.

  “Let me get this straight, you can use magic and magical artifacts, but I can’t?” Simplin asked.

  “I’m from the government, it’s my duty to keep the peace any way I see fit. I’m here to keep law and order, not pander to your petty notions of absolute freedom.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong!” Simplin countered. “I was only trying to help!”

  “And see where that got you? You wrecked this man’s morning and set him back in his work. All because you thought you were special enough to deserve magic. Well, go on, get to it!”

  Simplin spent the next hour cleaning and disposing of the spilled grain that came from the burlap sack. The crowd had dispersed with a spate of jeers, but the peace keeper—Krig, according to what Simplin overheard—and Ralstine had stayed hovering about him ensuring he got every speck of grain that hadn’t been sunk into the mud.

  Soon he found himself escorted through the streets to the jail tucked down a side alley. Simplin noticed the structure was made of stone and had iron bars for windows. Simplin cursed his fate and lack of observational skills. If only he’d seen the sign outside the town that said no magic allowed. He cocked a brow and looked up. Or did you remove the sign as I walked by, Jack?

  “Drop your belongings, empty your pockets, and disrobe,” Krig commanded him once they had made it into the small building that made up the court and the jail. Once Simplin’s coin purse came out, Krig grabbed it and emptied the contents into his hand. “Hmm, you got some court fees, damages, and jail compensation to cover, this ought ta cover half,” he said.

  “But, that’s all the money I have! I’m going need it for food and lodging,” Simplin told the peace keeper.

  “Not no time soon, magic grubber,” Krig growled.

  “What about my clothes? Why am I to be unclothed?” Simplin asked.

  “Because we gotta disinfect you,” Krig said. He pushed Simplin into a back room where he shoved all of his clothes and belongings (without the coins, of course) into a burlap sack that was similar to the one that had gotten Simplin into trouble in the first place, complete with the same brand stamped onto the front.

  “You sure do have a lot of those bags,” Simplin noted.

  “Yeah, we got a burlap factory in town; we use the bags everywhere, so what?” Krig said.

  With a complete lack of quality control. Simplin thought.

  The peace keeper pushed him through yet another door and then stepped back out. He slammed and bolted the door as Simplin turned in dismay, fidgeting with the cuff around his wrist. The room was stone from floor to ceiling and had only a few tiny slots at the very top of the ten foot walls that allowed just barely a sliver of light to enter. There was a damp and earthy odor that Simplin recognized immediately as moss and mold. He reached out to touch the wall and sure enough, the wall was covered in a coating of green, spongy, organic matter. He quickly understood his predicament.

  A water chamber. Had he not had the cuff on him, he would have hastily cast two spells; one to create an air bubble to breathe from, and the other to warm himself. With the cuff on him, however, he didn’t have that luxury.

  There was a squeak somewhere beyond the ceiling and then a trap door from above opened and let loose a torrent of frigid mountain water. The entire room became a thunderous commotion of liquid roaring in and crashing off the walls, quickly rising up to his knees, and then his waist. Simplin wondered how many unlucky wizards must have died, trying to rely on their magic to save them from the water filling around the sealed room only to have the cuff grow increasingly tighter until they had their hand cut off, at which point they had likely bled to death anyway.

  Simplin turned and begged for Krig to let him out, but it was no use. The peace keeper had either waked away, or couldn’t hear Simplin’s pleas over the sound of crashing water. Or… Krig simply didn’t care.

  The wa
ter continued to rise. Simplin eyed the slits near the top of the room. All he had to do, was swim up with the water, and put his mouth around one of those openings, then perhaps he would be able to breathe and wait this thing out.

  Except, the water was ice-cold. Goosebumps pulled at his skin, and his muscles contracted without his permission, sending spasms through his body.

  If only I could use my warming spell!

  Simplin heard voices near the door.

  “How long you want me to run the cleansing agent on him to disinfect?” someone asked.

  “’Bout ten should do it, he’s only a skinny thing after all. And make sure he’s either good and dead, or at least most the way,” Krig said.

  Simplin growled and summoned forth his magic. It was time to transport himself up to Jack and have a chat. Ice-baths were unpleasant at best, but a ten minute ordeal would surely kill him. There was a flash of light and then…nothing. Simplin looked around and found himself still in the icy water, which was now over his belly-button.

  The cuff began to squeeze.

  “YARGH!” Simplin shouted as he tried to pull it back with his other hand. “That hurts!” He looked up frantically at the ceiling, watching the non-stop torrent of rushing water fill the space around him. “JACK! JACK!”

  Jack stopped typing at the keyboard. Everything in the chamber froze in place. Each droplet of water was motionless, suspended in the air above the deepening pool below. “What now?” Jack asked. “I thought you wanted a challenge, something that would help you grow.”

  “This is sadistic!” Simplin shouted. “Is this how you would treat Beven?”

  Jack puffed and smirked. “Beven wouldn’t tie me to my keyboard all night long and force me to write a story. I do have a life you know. I have things I need to do.”

  “Come on, Jack, we agreed that you would finish this story for me; I only asked for one! Is that too much to ask? We’ve known each other for decades, and I have always been there for you, always!”

  “All right, prove it,” Jack said.

  “What?” Simplin asked, shivering naked in the still water around him. “Prove what?”

  “You may not know this, but I drank a liter of Dr. Pepper before you shackled me to my keyboard. I really have to pee.”

  “Oh, how uncouth. Just say you have to tinkle,” Simplin said sourly.

  “Yeah, I’m a grown man, and I am not saying that.”

  “You’re a grown man tied to a keyboard, held there by a figment of his own imagination!” Simplin shot back.

  “Fine, then I’ll start typing again. The water will resume, and you will have to hold your breath for ten minutes because you can’t use your magic. Worst case for me, I pee my pants a little. Worst case for you, you die. End of story, end of ALL your stories.”

  “Fine! What do you want?”

  “Let me go,” Jack said. “Do that, and I will remove the cuff and give you a spell that will enable you to breathe underwater.”

  “How do I know you’ll come back? What if you turn off your com-pewter thingy?” Simplin shook his head. “No, I’ll let you grab your empty bottle, and then you can use that.”

  “Be reasonable, Simplin, aren’t you getting cold?”

  Simplin shivered violently. “I’m not cold, I-I just can’t feel my legs!”

  “Fine, no toilet, no help for you.” Jack’s finger went down to strike the keys, and finally Simplin called out again.

  “WAIT! Okay, fine, you can use your toy-let. Just, I’m going to keep my spell on you. I’ll weaken it, so you can reach the toy-let. Then, when you’re done, you come back”

  “All right,” Jack said. “Loosen your spell.”

  “No, you let me out of this cuff first.”

  “I’m getting tired of this, Simplin,” Jack said as he rested his finger on the key.

  “But the cuff will tighten again!”

  “You loosen the spell, I will take away the cuff, but that’s the only way I know you’re serious about our deal.”

  Simplin closed his eyes and the cord of yellow energy lengthened enough for Jack to move away from the keyboard.

  “OWW!!” Simplin yelled.

  “One second,” Jack shouted.

  He went to work on the keyboard.

  In a stroke of unexpected luck, the magic restraining cuff which had been strapped to Simplin’s wrist was an old, well-worn thing, and became malleable under the influence of the water and whatever “cleansing” agent had been added to the torrent. As Simplin examined the situation, he realized that a single firm tug with his index finger would allow him to break through the first three holes that held the stitching at the seam of the cuff, allowing him to slip his hand free of the cursed restraint. In that moment, a new spell occurred to him…

  *****

  Leaving Simplin on his own to figure out the rest of the details, Jack ran hurriedly to the bathroom. He kicked the door open, unluckily knocking it into his cat’s rear end and sending the frightened feline leaping up into the air and kicking the water dish over.

  “Sorry, Mr. Jasper!” Jack said, but it was too late. The cat turned and started what looked like a cartoon run, paws sliding on the tile until the animal gained purchase enough to dart out. Jack tried to get out of the way, but the magical tether on his right hand caught him, twisting his footing, and he toppled to the counter, his hand knocking into the roll of toilet paper he had been too lazy to put on the hanger earlier that day. The roll streaked across the counter, over the back of the toilet tank, and into the bottom of his tub.

  “Simplin, I am going to kill you,” Jack muttered as he struggled to right himself. The magical cord pulled his right hand so that his arm was straight. “Well, at least I have one free hand,” Jack muttered. He unzipped with his left hand and was about to begin his business when that old, familiar feeling rumbled through his guts, and he knew he would be in there for a little longer. Trouble was, his right hand was pulling at the very limit of the magical cord. There wasn’t enough slack to turn around and sit. Every time he turned, his arm would force his upper body back toward the door as his wrist was pulled straight.

  “Simplin! I need a bit more slack,” Jack shouted.

  No answer.

  “Come on, no tricks, I promise. I just have to get a bit closer!”

  Grrrumblebumble—fart!

  Jack’s eyes shot open wide. It was that moment when he realized he should have passed up the three burritos-for-a-dollar deal at his local fast food joint for lunch. He was out of time. He twisted and stuck out his rear end, but he was still too far away from the seat. Knowing what was going to happen in only a matter of seconds, and feeling the hot sauce burn its way to the exit, Jack sheepishly faced the toilet and nearly pulled his arm out of its socket as he sat on the toilet backwards, hoping he had sat far enough on it that he could clear the seat with what he had to do. He glanced down and saw the toilet paper roll in the bottom of the tub. He reached out and grabbed onto the trail of paper left behind as it had rolled across the room, but it proved nearly fruitless as the roll continued to unroll with each tug of the paper. Then, somehow the squares snapped off along the perforated line and the majority of the roll was sent off toward the opposite end of the tub, far out of reach.

  “Simplin, I hate you,” Jack said. Then there was a fiery rumble in his abdomen, and he knew the time of reckoning had come. “If you die,” he muttered to Simplin. “Then I will resurrect you just so I can kill you again for this!”

  *****

  Simplin rubbed his wrist and shouted with joy as the cuff floated gently to the floor of the nearly filled chamber. Then the water resumed its unrelenting assault.

  The wizard relaxed and cast his warming spell, protecting his body from the water’s frigid temperatures. He then created a large bubble of air around himself, held together by a membrane of magical energy that rebuffed the water; a marvelous new spell he could only thank the author for as he settled in for the duration of his Lickedintime cleansing
experience. He closed his eyes and focused on nothingness. He knew if he were to spend too much time under the water, then his oxygen bubble would have to be replenished, but if he fell into a state of meditation, he could slow his breathing and control his air usage.

  “Okay, release the secondary disinfectant,” Krig said “there hasn’t been any motion detected in the tank for a while.”

  A squeaking sound vibrated through the room, followed by the clicking of a lever being pulled into place.

  From his distant trance-like state of mind, Simplin heard a metallic grinding noise from somewhere within the water chamber. He felt jostled as more liquid poured into the chamber from the slits in the top of the walls.

  Good thing I didn’t try putting my mouth on one of those.

  Simplin floated, turning over and over as the room filled completely and the liquid churned around him. His bubble held firm, keeping him safe, and also allowing him to dry himself thanks to the warming spell he had cast. He floated for at least ten minutes and then he was pulled down as the water rushed through a grate on the floor emptying the room.

  After the water was gone, the door to the chamber opened and a man stood there, holding a long spear.

  “Check on the prisoner, Hoil,” Krig said.

  A man, whom Simplin assumed to be Hoil, stood in the doorway and shook his head. “He doesn’t look dead,” he said. “Doesn’t even look wet,” he added. Hoil moved in and stamped the butt of his spear on the damp floor. “When you gonna learn that the peace keeper donna like magic and users of such?” he said. He pushed Simplin with his boot and the naked wizard rolled over and splayed out still partly in his meditative state. “Well, I guess I let you be, seein’ that the peace keeper done left ta fetch the Judge. Just have ta move you to your proper cell now that you’re clean.”