by Tom Hoffman
His eyes blurry with tears, he blindly stood up and tried to take a step forward. Something bit his leg. It was one of the slippery things he didn’t want to know about. He yelped loudly and fell forward. As he reached out to stop the fall his arm plunged deep into the foul muck. His paw pressed against something smooth and hard. The instant Bartholomew touched it he knew it was something wonderful. He grasped it firmly, and with the strength he had left pulled it up from the unyielding goop. It was a Golden Sword in a purple velvet sheath. Bartholomew stared at it with wide eyes. There was not a speck of mud or a single drop of water on it. It shone brilliantly in the setting sun.
“What manner of object is this? It is surely no accident that in my darkest moment I would find such a treasure as this. This sword appeared as if by magic and has filled me with a strength and hope previously unknown to me.”
He rose up, the sword in one paw. He was himself again. He was Bartholomew the Adventurer, and nothing would stop him from finding his Great Gem.
Searching out a nearby island, he settled in for the night. A large fruit tree provided his dinner. He scrutinized the Golden Sword for any clues to its origin. It was beautifully crafted with curious characters deeply engraved into the blade. They were vaguely similar to the ancient Lapinoric hieroglyphs, but he could make no sense of them. A large blue gemstone, possibly a sapphire, was mounted on the hilt. It was exquisite and obviously had great value. Where had the sword come from? What was its purpose? He knew nothing about swords or fighting. He was an adventurer, not a warrior. He looked closely at the large blue gemstone. Could this be the Great Gem? His hope surged until he heard the Cavern of Silence speak.
“No, Bartholomew, it is not the Great Gem, but you are getting closer. There are many forces at work here. Above all else, do not lose hope again.”
Bartholomew froze. How could he hear the Cavern of Silence deep in the swamp? Had some creature followed him from the cavern? He looked around, his eyes scanning the small island. There was nothing. He was alone.
Bartholomew put the sword down, trying to calm himself. As the evening sun sank below the horizon, he curled up under the fruit tree and closed his eyes. He woke up during the night to a brilliant moon shining down from a starry sky. The moon’s reflection off the surface of the swamp was unexpectedly beautiful. His gaze traveled across the glimmering water and he noticed a small flickering light in the distance. There was no doubt it was either a campfire or a lantern. With his paw he drew an arrow in the sand pointing towards the light.
In the morning Bartholomew awoke, quickly remembering the light he had seen the night before. He found the arrow in the sand and looked out across the swamp. In perfect alignment with the shaft of the arrow was a distant island, larger than any of the islands he had seen so far. He stared at it pensively. He was not one to get feelings about things, but he was having a very bad feeling about this island. He didn’t want to go there, but felt there was a reason why he had to go. These new feelings he was getting were confusing.
He ate breakfast and packed his gear. He picked up the Golden Sword, holding it in one paw. Whenever he held the sword his fear diminished.
“The Cavern of Silence told me I am nearer to finding the Great Gem, and I have a strong feeling going to this dreadful island will bring me closer to it still. But the question remains, what is the Great Gem and why must I find it?”
He stepped into the swamp and headed towards the island where he had seen the flickering light. It took him most of the day to reach it. What he had thought from a distance to be a steep hill turned out to be an oddly shaped wooden house. It stood two stories tall and was cobbled together with many different sizes and shapes of boards. Some of the boards were painted and some were not. On the roof was a wooden platform with a sailing ship’s telescope mounted on one of the railing posts. A rickety catwalk crossed over to the roof of a second building about twenty feet away. At the end of the catwalk a brass bell hung from a rusty iron stand. He wondered what they used the telescope for. Who were they watching? What was the purpose of the bell?
The whole structure looked as if it would fall over if he gave it one solid kick. The yard was covered with refuse; bottles, tin cans, papers, old clothes, and scraps of wood and metal. There was a crudely painted red sign with white lettering above the front door. It read:
THE SKEEZLE BROTHERS
Lost Treasures
Inquire Within
Bartholomew gripped the Golden Sword tightly and knocked on the door.
“Enter!”
He opened the door and peered in. The inside resembled the outside. It was built from a mishmash of old boards and scraps of metal. There was a long wooden counter on one side of the room and dozens of shelves and cabinets on the opposite side. The shelves were filled with a huge assortment of seemingly random objects. At the far end of the room was a wide green metal door. There was a heavy wooden beam across the door, with each end resting in a sturdy metal bracket. Whatever was behind the door would not be able to get out. The sight of this barred door did nothing to diminish Bartholomew’s bad feeling about the island.
Behind the counter were two very peculiar looking creatures. They looked like large wild rats dressed in brightly colored troubadour’s clothing. One wore a long yellow cap with a silver crescent moon medallion dangling from the end of it. The other creature was clothed in a similar fashion, but was sporting a purple cap. Bartholomew knew instantly what they were, and could not hide the jolt of overwhelming fear that shot through him. They were Grymmorian shadows, the source of countless terrifying nightmares when he was a bunny.
“You may rest easy, my friend. We are shadows, but there is no cause to be afraid.” They looked at each other with large toothy grins. Bartholomew’s paws went cold.
“I.. uh... that is to say...I’m searching for something which has become lost to me.”
“Then you have come to the right place, my friend. To be quite honest, we have been expecting you. Bobo saw you only yesterday through our telescope. You were sleeping on a distant island. Most visitors to the swamp eventually find their way here, some coming in just to pass the time, and some to browse through our fine assortment of lost treasures. Some guests, however, are looking for something a little more specific.” He raised one eyebrow and gave Bartholomew a knowing look.
“Who exactly are you?”
“As the sign clearly says, we are the Skeezle Brothers and we deal in lost treasures. I am Ozzie and this is my brother Bobo.”
“You’re Grymmorian shadows?”
“That is quite true. As you can plainly see we were born shadow folk, but we arrived in the swamp when we very young and know nothing of their customs, and have none of their... unusual tendencies.” They looked at each other and laughed in a strangely high pitched manner. Their laugh reminded Bartholomew of the Tree of Eyes. He did not like this place. He did not trust the Skeezle Brothers and he wanted to leave right now.
The Cavern of Silence spoke once more. “The greatest gifts in life often come wrapped in very strange packages.”
Bartholomew covered his ears with his paws. Where was that voice coming from? Why was it telling him this? He should trust the Skeezle Brothers? That underneath their clearly malevolent exterior they were good and gentle creatures? This could not be true, and yet... he had come to trust the Cavern of Silence more than he trusted his own feelings.
“So my friend, what exactly is it you have lost?” Ozzie gave Bartholomew a sickly smile which was really more of a grimace than a smile. An identical smile appeared on Bobo’s face. Bobo kept glancing down at the Golden Sword. Bartholomew’s legs were feeling shaky.
“I am looking for my Great Gem. The Cavern of Silence and the Tree of Eyes sent me here.”
“Ahh, yes, the Cavern of Silence and the Tree of Eyes.” Ozzie tried to sound as if he were quite familiar with those names, but his nervous darting eyes said otherwise. “Well, if THEY sent you here, then this is where you should be. Since you h
ave lost a Great Gem, what better place to look than in our safe and secure Gem Room behind the green door. We have dozens and dozens of stunningly beautiful lost gems back there. I’m sure you will find yours in no time at all.” The grimace smile appeared again.
“Feel free to browse through our gems at your leisure. I do have one small request, however. Because of the large number of priceless gems, no weapons are allowed in the Gem Room. You may be assured this rule applies to everyone. Once you have paid in full for your Great Gem, your sword will be promptly returned to you.”
Very reluctantly Bartholomew handed the Golden Sword to Bobo.
With their gleeful grins barely disguised, Bobo and Ozzie removed the large beam from the green door and swung it open. It was dimly lit inside and Bartholomew could make out only indistinct gray shapes. Bobo pushed him forward into the room, saying, “Please take a seat and I will be in momentarily to light all the candles and unlock the gem cases.”
Bartholomew walked to the center of the gloomy room. He heard the green door slam shut behind him and the sound of Ozzie and Bobo throwing the massive wooden beam back onto the heavy metal brackets.
“Did you find your Great Gem yet??” There were shrieks of laughter from outside the green door. Bartholomew began to feel queasy. He sat down on the floor, putting his head between his paws.
Chapter 5
Oliver T. Rabbit
“I assume you are here to rescue me?”
Bartholomew’s head jerked around towards the voice. His eyes were now accustomed to the dim light, and he could make out the figure of a plump rabbit sitting in a chair on the far side of the room.
“Rescue you?”
“Indeed, sir. Since it is painfully obvious you don’t recognize me, I shall make my own introduction. I am Oliver T. Rabbit, Certified Representative of the Excelsior Electro-Vacuumator Corporation and currently the Director of Research and Material Acquisitions. I cannot simply loll about this place with so many pressing scientific matters demanding my attention. I ask you again, sir, what is your plan? How exactly are you going to rescue me?”
He was interrupted by a rapid pounding on the green door. “What’s taking so long in there? Can’t decide which stunningly beautiful gem is yours?” More high pitched squeals of laughter. “We’ll be leaving now and won’t be back for a number of days. We have just acquired a priceless golden sword and shall be selling it at considerable profit to a wealthy gentleman who lives on the other side of the swamp. If you get hungry, perhaps you could cook up a little rabbit stew.” The shrieks of laughter seemed to go on forever, but finally Bartholomew heard the front door slam shut and there was silence once again.
“The Golden Sword has served its purpose.” It was the Cavern of Silence.
What was its purpose? To get him locked up in this horrid place with a pompous and overbearing rabbit? Memories from the swamp unexpectedly flooded his thoughts. Memories of the sword giving him hope and strength in the moments when he had fallen to his knees in the putrid muck. Had the Cavern of Silence sent him these memories to remind him of the sword’s true purpose? When he thought about it, the sword had also gotten the Skeezle Brothers out of the house. Maybe that was its purpose. Maybe it was all three things. A new thought popped into his head.
“Oliver T. Rabbit, did you hear that voice? The one that said something about a Golden Sword serving its purpose?”
Oliver T. Rabbit looked confused. “Do you mean the Skeezle brothers? They said they were leaving to sell a golden sword. That voice?”
Oliver T. Rabbit had not heard Cavern’s voice. Only Bartholomew could hear it. He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
“I suppose it was just my imagination. I find all of this quite disconcerting. I’m afraid I’m not here to rescue you, Oliver T. Rabbit. I am a prisoner as much as you.”
“Drat. That is a bit of bad luck. Well, perhaps all is not lost. Do you have anything to eat in that pack of yours?”
Bartholomew sighed. Why on earth had the Cavern of Silence put him in the same room with a rabbit like this? This was feeling less and less like a thrilling adventure.
Bartholomew shared the last of his bread and cheese with Oliver T. Rabbit. He tried as best he could to make pleasant conversation.
“What brought you to this dreadful swamp and into the clutches of the Skeezle brothers?”
Oliver T. Rabbit’s response was guarded. “As I mentioned, I am the Director of Research and Material Acquisitions at the Excelsior Corporation. They sent me into the swamp to follow up on some rumors we had heard about... ah... some product related materials. You know, keep the old production lines rolling and that sort of thing. I happened upon the Skeezle’s shop, just as you did. They claimed they had what I was looking for, and in my blind eagerness I fell into their trap. Do you happen to have anything else to eat? It’s been three days since I’ve had even a bite. They gave me water, but other than that I’ve had nothing.”
Bartholomew wasn’t sure what he had left in the pack. He dumped its contents onto the table.
“Let’s see.... I think have an orange here somewhere. Yes, here it–”
“What is that?? What is that right there??”
“An orange?”
“No, that!! Those green stones!”
“I found them in the swamp.”
“You found them? You found them? In the swamp? You found them in the swamp??”
“Yes, I just said that. I found them on an island in the swamp. The entire island was covered with them.”
Oliver T. Rabbit began huffing and gasping for air, his paws shaking. Bartholomew was afraid he was having a heart attack.
“Are you all right? You don’t look well at all.”
“Yes, yes, I am quite well, thank you. More than well. You have no idea what you have found. This is what I have been looking for. Three months searching this hideous mosquito infested morass, and I find it in this dismal little shack.”
“What is it? Are they valuable?”
“Indeed, sir. Their value is beyond what you can possibly imagine, but not for the reasons you are probably thinking. These are not pretty baubles to be mounted on the rings of wealthy rabbits. You have found nothing less than a gigantic vein of duplonium.” He looked at Bartholomew as though he expected him to fall over in a faint.
“Duplonium?”
“Good heavens, rabbit, do you know nothing of the natural elements? Duplonium is an inconceivably rare and utterly unique element. Its value lies in the nature of its reaction with water.”
“Oh, that would explain the steam. The whole island was surrounded by boiling water and steam.”
“Yes, yes, of course it would be. If you put a small piece of duplonium in a beaker of water, the water will quickly boil away without diminishing the mass of the duplonium in the least. Add more water and you get more steam. You could do this for hundreds of years with the same small piece of duplonium.”
“And this makes it valuable for... making coffee and tea?”
Oliver T. Rabbit looked at Bartholomew as though he had three eyes and a dancing blue lizard on his head. He began to sputter.
“It makes it valuable because of steam power, you blithering buffoon! If you put duplonium in a closed system where the steam cannot escape, you can power an electrical generator for hundreds of years! It is a source of unlimited power. Unlimited. Can you grasp that simple concept??”
Bartholomew felt as though he should be insulted by Oliver T. Rabbit’s tirade, but he felt nothing of the sort. He liked Oliver T. Rabbit’s zeal and enthusiasm. It was good to see someone so passionate about something. He had a very good feeling about Oliver T. Rabbit, a rather surprising outcome of their meeting.
“I have a map. I will make a copy of it for you. The duplonium is yours for the taking.”
For once in his life Oliver T. Rabbit, Certified Representative of the Excelsior Electro-Vacuumator Corporation was speechless. He looked as though he was having a difficult time proce
ssing Bartholomew’s words, but then reached into his pocket and pulled out a checkbook.
“Your name is Bartholomew Rabbit?”
“Yes?”
Oliver T. Rabbit scribbled out a check and placed it on the table in front of Bartholomew. “This finder’s fee is courtesy of the Excelsior Electro-Vacuumator Corporation. You, my friend, are a very, very, very wealthy rabbit.”
Bartholomew looked down at the check. So many zeros. He would not have to work another day in his life.
“Good heavens. Is this real?”
“It is real and you are quite welcome, my friend. And please, from this day forth call me Oliver. I am in your debt until the end of my days. Now, let us get out of this dreadful place.”
Oliver’s eyes searched the piles of old parts and pieces of broken machinery scattered about the room. He began rummaging through the mounds of refuse, looking for something.
“Ah, this will do nicely.” He picked up a section of narrow copper tubing about two feet long.
He sat down at the table, setting the copper pipe in front of him. “Duplonium, if you please.” He held out his paw. Bartholomew handed him one of the round balls of duplonium. Oliver took out a silver pen knife and opened it, carefully cutting off a piece of duplonium the size of a robin’s eye. The duplonium was not a brittle gemstone, but was more like a dense clay. He rolled the piece of duplonium around between his paws until it took on a spherical shape.
“Now good sir, if you will kindly hide behind that large crate and cover your ears, I shall unlock the green door.” He gave a great laugh.
