by Lotus Rose
“What’s with all the kissing?!” the Cat exclaims.
The smacky sounds of kissing continues for nearly half a minute.
“Enough!” shouts the Cat. “I know I’m not supposed to interfere, but even I have my limits. Allay your affections until a time more appropriate!”
The kissing couple separate their mouths. An awkward silence fills the air.
“I inscribed the goblet,” Vox says.
“Eh? What’s that?” Zenta says. “Oh, of course.” She looks at the goblet. She reads aloud: “Vox levos Zenta. What does that mean?”
“Oh, my love...so terribly embarrassing. I destroyed the original goblet after you freaked out and dumped me. But I made another—it happened so fast—I chiseled the words in the few minutes before I came here. I’m so sorry... you can toss it, I’ll make another.”
Zenta leans her head back and laughs uproariously. “It’s no bother, my love! It was a rush job and you messed up, is all. It’s completely understandable. This shall simply be the first cup to be broken, as it were!”
She cackles and slams the goblet onto the top of her head, sending it shattering—which is an action that would be quite painful on a human head, Sleepy B notes.
Vox joins in the laughter. “I’m so lucky to have somemonster like you.”
“And I’m lucky to have my Jabby!” Sleepy B exclaims. “I think the lesson here is that love springs eternal, and the kissing curse is poppycock. So shall you now destroy the spell?” she says to Zenta.
She nods. “Quite.” She holds up one finger in the “wait” gesture, before disappearing into her cave.
She reappears a minute or so later. Now she holds a piece of ancient-looking browned paper, torn on one edge, and in the other hand, a lit candle.
“It is folly to try to thwart the flow of love,” she says. “I realize now how foolish and petty I was. Let this spell be forever lost, so that no more fools like I have been, shall attempt to ruin the experience for everyone else. Now before I set this page aflame, one might be skeptical that I couldn’t simply memorize the spell, but alas that is not the case. My memory is atrocious!” She lights one corner of the page, then another. Quickly the paper is reduced to ash.
Jabby remarks, “Brilliant...literally.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE WITCH SEEMS QUITE eager to speak to Malice and Hatter as soon as they’re away from the Snark. So they meet inside a little hidden away cave chamber that has been set up with a dart board on one side.
The Cat is there as well, being as nosy as he is.
To Malice, Hatter says, “I challenge you to a game!”
“Maybe later, sweety, after speaking to the witch.”
Hatter nods. “Cat! I challenge you to a game!”
“I haven’t any hands at the moment, unfortunately.”
“Then, I must challenge myself!”
“Hatty, no!” Malice says. “Not now, the witch has something important to discuss with us.”
“Very well, I win by default. I beg your pardon, miss witch. Please proceed.”
“I have a very important mission for you two. It is the third noble task, that could determine the future of the jabberwocks.”
“Will we be able to get in a game of darts before the mission?... Apologies.” His shoulders slump.
The witch continues, “There is a magical sceptre, once owned by the former king of Jabberwock Valley, before he was murdered by the Emperor. On that day, the royal sceptre went missing. It was said, that in the days of prophesy, its location would be revealed, so that it could be brought back to play its role in the momentous prophesized events.”
“What role would that be?” Malice says.
“That I can’t reveal to you, but the sceptre is enchanted, and its form of magic shall play a pivotal role in the upcoming events. Until yesterday, we still didn’t have any idea of the sceptre’s whereabouts, but yesterday a seer was delivered a prophesy during a vision. I was informed just a short while ago myself. I immediately came to you, for you are the only one here suitable for the mission—it is as if destiny chose you, and fate placed you right here and now, to accomplish the task.”
Malice sighs. “More destiny stuff? Is it going to be dangerous? And can I bring my boyfriend?”
“You may bring him—the Cat as well, so long as you declare him your pet.”
Hatter says, “I don’t believe I caught exactly what kind of magic the sceptre possesses.”
“That’s because I didn’t tell you,” the witch says. “I won’t reveal that to you right now, because I don’t wish to adversely effect the course of events. But make no mistake: it is very important for the future of the jabberwocks. You wish to help the jabberwocks, correct? Will you accept this mission?”
“Hey, you know me,” Malice says. “I accept any mission set before me. But will the Snark let us go?”
“Yes, he should,” the witch says. “You’re his guest, not his prisoner. I must say, it would be best not to mention this mission and the matter of the sceptre to the Snark. In fact, I may be able to arrange things so that you’re gone and back without him even noticing.”
“Ah, brilliant!” Malice says. “So, where are we going?”
The witch says, “We believe the sceptre shall be located at a lake in an area known as the royal resort. Some of the guards can carry you there—it’s only a fifteen minute flight. It is called the royalty resort, because it used to be used by the king as a relaxing getaway. The lake is surrounded by a wall, and protected by magic—only a king or queen may enter, plus one significant other, and one pet. That’s why, when you enter the front gate, you should make a declaration—something like, ‘I, Queen Malice, declare my boyfriend Hatter, and pet Cat’.”
“Cheshire Cat is my official name, and I’m no pet.”
The witch says, “Well, for the sake of this mission, you better consider yourself to be, or you shan’t be allowed entrance.”
“I could always teleport.”
The witch shrugs. “I don’t know if that would work or not. Malice, the guards shall stand outside the resort wall and await your return. Now, I should like to relay to you the words of the prophesy, as I think they may aid you.”
“Very well,” Malice says with a nod.
“‘The royal sceptre shall be revealed from beneath mud, delivered by hand at a royally relaxing lake’. Can you see why we believe that lake to be at the royal resort?”
“I do.”
“I have nothing more to tell you. I’ll gather some guards who can be trusted to keep a secret. I can have you up and away within fifteen minutes.”
“Fantastic!” Hatter says and slaps his hands together. “Enough time for a game of darts!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE RESORT HOUSED WITHIN the large circular brick wall is comprised of forest area with a large lake in the middle.
As they approach the lake, Malice says, “That’s what she was called, right? The lady of the lake, from the legend of King Arthur?”
“Quite,” Hatter says. “She gave the sword ExCalamity to some knight or peasant or monk, I believe.”
“Argh!” the Cat says. “It’s annoying how wrong you get things! The sword was Excalibur, given to Arthur, himself.”
They stand at the shore of the lake, now. About fifty feet away, a female jabberwock is seated on the grassy shore, next to a tree, holding a fishing rod with its line dipped into the water.
Malice says, “According to the story, the lady’s hand rose up from the water, holding the sword. We must get our own hand to rise up and deliver our sceptre.”
Hatter rubs his chin. “I don’t recall, in the story, how Lancelot summoned the hand up to give him the ExCaterpillar.”
“You prat!” the Cat shouts. “Excalibur!”
“Be nice to my boyfriend, my pet.”
The Cat says, “I only let you declare me as your pet, because I couldn’t enter any other way.”
“Okay my little
pet kitty,” Malice says. “Let me pet you.”
“Hey, she’s waving at us,” Hatter says.
They look over, and return the wave.
When they go over there, she says, “Greetings, I am Nizza, caretaker of the royalty resort and expert fishermonster.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Queen Malice, that’s my boyfriend, Hatter, and that’s my pet kitty.”
The Cat hisses.
“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure,” Nizza says. “Please enjoy your stay. The swimming is excellent, though I prefer to fish, myself. I also deliver wonderful massages, though I might nick you with my claws every once in a while.”
“Yeesh,” Hatter says, while cringing.
Malice says, “We are here to recover the royal sceptre—we must cause a hand to rise up from the lake whilst holding it. Do you know how we may summon such a hand?” Malice glances at Nizza’s fishing rod up close for the first time—it’s absolutely filthy, covered completely in dried, caked mud—but she thinks it would be rude to comment upon its unkempt condition.
Nizza ponders a moment. “Is it just a hand or is there a body attached to it?”
Malice says, “The prophesy only mentions a hand, but we had assumed it would be attached to a lady of the lake sort.”
“A human lady?” Nizza says.
“That’s what the stories of King Arthur had, but I suppose it was wrong to merely assume the lady is human.”
“Quite,” Nizza says. “She could very well be a jabberwock. This is after all the royal resort made for the royal jabberwocks, and we are in Jabberwock Valley.”
“Of course,” Malice says. “How presumptive of me. So, do you have any idea how we might summon the lady, or jabberwock of the lake?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest... Do you know her name?”
Malice shakes her head, as Hatter says, “I believe if you make a lot of splashing in the water, it shall scare away sharks.”
“Hatty!” Malice stomps her foot. “How will that help whatsoever to summon the lady or jabberwock of the lake?”
“Perhaps she is being held back by the jaws of a shark. Or a bear. I believe the splashing may scare away bears as well.”
“Urggh,” Malice says. “Do you have any other ideas?”
“Yes,” Hatter says. “Perhaps we should formally request her presence, all officially like, in the language of old England, so it feels more familiar to her.”
“Hatty,” Malice says, “she is most likely not the lady of the lake from ye old England—she merely borrows from those old legends.”
“Nevertheless, it can’t hurt to speak to her in formal old English speak. Might I give it a go?”
“Go ahead, my boyfriend. Perhaps she is merely awaiting to be called upon.”
Hatter clears his throat, gazes upon the gently waving crystal waters for several seconds...he stares for too long, and Malice is considering speaking upon the matter, when Hatter raises one hand dramatically in the air, and proclaims, “Hear ye, hear ye, O reticent Lady du Laque, we formally request the presence of your hand to presenteth unto us thy royal sceptre, forsooth. And lo, oh lo oh lo, please raiseth thy digits and presenteth them to us, oh and lo, in this time of prophesy. Arise, I command thee, demon! Arise, and inherit the earth!”
He crinkles his eyes almost angrily at the waves which continue gently rippling. No hand appears.
“I don’t think you really knew what you were saying,” Malice says gently.
“But it sounded good, didn’t it?” Hatter says.
“Quite,” says the Cat. “So much verve and enthusiasm. Perhaps you can next compel her to raise her hands unto the heavens and tear them down with her maidenly fingers.”
Hatter considers that. “Perhaps...”
Malice groans. “Lady...or jabberwock...or whatever you are, please raise your hand! We need the sceptre! It’s very important for prophesies and destiny and such matters. I’ve been told the sceptre shall help the jabberwocks a great deal! Please show yourself!”
They wait. Nothing happens.
“Oh, bother,” Malice says. “Perhaps if we splashed the water about—not to scare sharks, but to get her attention.”
Nizza says, “I’m sorry your mission isn’t working out so far. You’re more than welcome to fish with me. It’s quite relaxing—I could massage your back as you do so. Heaven, it is.”
Meanwhile, a frustrated Malice crouches down on the grass, while bending down at the water’s surface a few inches below. She splashes out scoops of water out with her hand in hopes of rousing the hand. “Arise, blast you, arise,” she mutters.
She hears Hatter say behind her, “I quite enjoy fishing, myself. I think your fishing rod is gloriously lacking in artifice and pretension—why, it’s all caked over with mud, which I find marvelous! I do so adore tools that are so obviously well-used, and thus useful. Why, I can’t even discern the true visage of your rod, for it’s so thoroughly covered and cloaked with mud. Mud is like its Halloween costume! Oh, it’s marvelous!”
“Yes, um...thank you?” Nizza says. “It is well used, I admit. But in my defense, they only told me to guard it and keep it with me, they didn’t say I had to keep it pristine.”
Malice whirls on her haunches and locks eyes with Nizza. “What did you say? Where did your fishing rod come from?”
Nizza says, “Some guards came over and gave it to me, told me to guard it, until the times of prophesy came.”
“Well the days of prophesy are coming,” Malice says. “Is your fishing rod the sceptre?”
“Well, I must admit, I was too embarrassed to admit this before, but what exactly, is a sceptre? I can tell you this is a rod, made of gold with lots of jewels in it, of course you can’t tell, because I’ve dropped it in so much mud during thunderstorms.”
Hatter says, “Crikey! I believe the fishing rod may be the sceptre!”
“Quite,” Malice says. “Nizza, I’d like to reclaim the sceptre.”
“I feel silly now! I had the thing all along! Of course you may have it, though I’ll miss it—such a good fishing rod, it was.”
“Brilliant,” Hatter says. “Now that that’s settled, perhaps we can somehow use the sceptre to lure the hand out of the lake?”
Malice groans. “The hand is Nizza’s hand. I was mistaken in envisioning the lady of the lake.”
“Here, let me untie the fishing line.” Nizza proceeds to do so. “The only problem is that now, I shall be without a fishing rod.” She frowns.
“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Malice says. “Perhaps you could grab a branch off one of these trees.”
“Perhaps, but so many of the best branches are out of my reach. Here you are.” She’s frowning as she holds the rod out.
“Oh, you can reach them now,” Hatter says. “We just pushed the Snark off a cliff a couple hours ago.”
“Huh?” Nizza says.
Malice says, “He means we recently traveled to a magical realm, where we returned the gift of flight to the jabberwocks.”
“Oh, that’s marvelous! I had no idea! It seems the times of prophesy truly are upon us!”
Hatter says, “Is there a cliff near here we could push you off?”
Nizza shakes her head. “Perhaps I could just try flapping.” Tentatively she flaps her wings, rising slightly above the ground. “Oh, joy! It’s true!” She rises up higher and swoops and soars about. “Thank you for all you’ve done for the jabberwocks. Now I can reach any branch I wish, to make a fishing rod!”
“Happy fishing!” Hatter says, before they make their leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SLEEPY B STANDS IN the middle of a crowd of over a hundred little girls, doing her best to blend in. They are all facing the wooden platform up ahead, where she can see Malice standing next to Hatter amongst several jabberwock guards.
The crowd of over a hundred jabberwocks stands to the right of the little girls—there is no mixture between the two groups, and there is even a border
of about seven feet where the members refuse to stand next to each other—the two groups obviously don’t wish to mix. Jabby is supposed to be somewhere in the crowd of jabberwocks, wearing a disguise and blending in. Sleepy B herself has changed into a plain peasant dress and is wearing a brown wig.
The crowds stand in a large, roughly rectangular clearing, comprised of dirt and grass, with a small pond behind and to the side of the little girl’s group. The clearing is surrounded by forest. According to the plan, Dorothy is hiding somewhere in the trees behind the crowds, awaiting the appearance of the Queen of Hearts, so she can unleash her magic tornado that shall hunt the queen down like a tracking dog.
Sleepy B doesn’t think the plan is a very sound one. She’s supposed to somehow get close to the Queen of Hearts to free her from any shackles before the tornado snatches her up, thus reducing the risk of injury. It’s a risky and unlikely endeavor, but Sleepy B is willing to take the risk to thwart the Snark. The big problem with the plan is the use of a tornado in the first place. Why use a magic tornado? Dorothy had said it was her best chance, with the resources she has, and refused to say much more, just like she refused to say where the tornado would go. But Sleepy B had agreed to help Dorothy, so help her, she shall.
The monster the crowd believes to be the Emperor, who is really being controlled by the Snark, hasn’t arrived yet. Up there on the raised wooden platform, two guards stand flanking Malice and Hatter. As far as Sleepy B can tell, her teammates are not shackled or restrained in any way. In fact, Malice appears to be holding a sword in a scabbard. It’s a very perplexing situation—she has not been in contact with the two, or heard any news about them, for the past couple days.
At the front of the platform, rests a brass device that looks similar to a musical horn instrument, such as a bassoon, connected by a wire to a wooden box set on the platform floor. She assumes it is some sort of voice amplifying device for speaking to the audience.
She hears an increase of murmuring and some girls point up in the sky.
