Freaky Fly Day

by David Farland

  “Who are you to command the great Toad Warrior!” Max shouted. He spun the wheel, veered into the police car, and sent it hurtling off the road.

  “What are you doing?” Brutus cried. “They have us surrounded! You must be mad!”

  Max laughed. He slammed on the brakes, and a second police car smashed into the back of the big rig.

  That seemed to anger the humans. They began pulling up behind Max’s truck, trying to get near. He swerved as he raced down the road, knocking police cars into the ditch one after another.

  Suddenly he saw a police car blocking the road just ahead. Its human driver stood off to the side of the road. Max barreled into the car. It exploded into a brilliant fireball, and for a moment all was flame and searing heat as the truck passed through the wreckage.

  But the human got his vengeance.

  Just as Max passed the policeman, all of the tires on his truck blew. Suddenly he was driving on steel rims. Sparks flew up from the pavement, and the truck made a grinding noise. The vehicle slowed to a crawl, and police cars wailed as they rolled along behind.

  Max shook his head sadly.

  Ah, he thought, for the good old days, when I used to ride a mammoth.

  Chapter 9

  REVELATIONS

  Sometimes, one little piece of knowledge can change an animal’s destiny and shape the world.

  —RUFUS FLYCATCHER

  “I think we need to have a little talk,” Butch Ravenspell said only a few minutes later. He looked very grim, with his bald head and bulging muscles, and as soon as he spoke, Amber and everyone else scurried to the couch.

  He stood for a long minute, looking at Amber’s suitcase full of money.

  “Now, I want to ask you once again: who gave this to you?”

  “Just some man who wanted to be my friend,” Amber said.

  “A man who wants to be your friend?” Butch said, his tone sounding as if he were disgusted.

  Mona chimed in, “Amber, dear, he could be anyone—a criminal or a drug lord or . . . a crooked politician.”

  “He says he wants to help the mice,” Amber said.

  Butch Ravenspell scratched a tattoo on his neck and just grimaced. “Be careful who you choose as friends,” he warned. “You never know what they might want from you. It is always best for you to choose them, not let them just choose you. Understand?”

  “That is sound advice,” Lady Blackpool said.

  “Now,” Butch Ravenspell said, changing the subject, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

  Ben’s father knelt down near the couch so that he was so close to the mice that his breath smote Amber like a warm wind. She looked at his handlebar mustache and thought about jumping on it. She imagined that it would be very fun to play on.

  “Ben, there is a secret that you should know—a secret that has been in our family for a long, long time. You’re not the first one in our family who has been able to gather magical energy. Ravenspell has been our family name for hundreds of years. Once, long ago, there was a sailor in our family who kept a raven as a pet. He carried it around on his shoulder as if it were a parrot, and it is said that he spoke to it, and sometimes the raven would cast magical spells that protected him and brought him riches.”

  “Cooool!” Ben said, his voice an astonished whisper.

  Lady Blackpool nodded her head. “The name of Ravenspell is known among the small fold of S.W.A.R.M. Arthur Ravenspell was a kind man, the greatest of familiars, and a powerful force for good.”

  Butch went to the bookcase and pulled down an old volume bound in leather. He opened it to reveal a drawing of a portly man with a doughy face and a cape who had a raven on his shoulder.

  “I’ve never seen that book before,” Ben said.

  “We kept it out of your reach,” Mona replied.

  “Before he died,” Ben’s father said, “Arthur Ravenspell promised that another familiar would someday be born from his line.”

  Butch pointed to some squiggly black marks on the paper and said, “Here’s what he said:

  In days of darkness, in a time of death,

  Another Ravenspell shall draw his breath.

  Here is a sign, for those who can hear:

  A nut shall be his helm, a needle his spear.

  He shall pull magic from wood and glade.

  With a Golden One he’ll fight the Ever Shade.

  Ben scrunched his nose thoughtfully so that his whiskers wiggled. He was wearing his little nut shell for a help, and he held his needle in his palm.

  Amber thought that it was so cool that someone had described him hundreds of years ago.

  “Ben,” Butch continued, “I first read those words when I was your age, and I thought that our old ancestor had bats in his attic. But now I think that this is serious. Maybe you need to go to this magic school, too.”

  Ben’s whiskers twitched nervously, and he looked up at his father with beady eyes.

  “No,” Mona said. “I don’t want to lose him again. I don’t want him to go.”

  “I don’t want him to, either,” Butch said. “But maybe it’s for the best.” He turned to Lady Blackpool. “How dangerous will this school be?”

  “Not too dangerous,” Lady Blackpool said. “We’ve been attacked by the students of the Small Animals’ Dark Institute of Sorcerous Technology, or S.A.D.I.S.T., but that has not happened for many years.”

  Amber felt frightened by such news.

  Mona began to sob. “It’s . . . a nice school, isn’t it?”

  Lady Blackpool looked around at the house thoughtfully. “It’s nice for a school out in the swamps, I suppose. It’s nothing like this.”

  “But it’s warm and dry?” Mona begged.

  “I’d say more hot and muggy,” Lady Blackpool answered. “It’s a fine place if you’re a water scorpion or a salamander, but the truth is that it’s none too pleasant for mammals.”

  Ben looked frantic. He shouted, “I don’t want to go! I want to go to Disneyland, Dad. You promised!”

  Amber’s heart raced. She wanted him to come so badly.

  “There is no reason you can’t do both,” Lady Blackpool said. “Amber needs mage dust to recharge her magical power. She needs to wander around for a few days, let it collect. You could do that at your Disneyland as well as anywhere else.”

  “But, I don’t want to go to that school,” Ben objected. “I mean, what would I do all day—just stand around like I was a stupid battery while Amber used up any mage dust that I collected?”

  Everyone looked to Lady Blackpool. The little shrew drew herself up so that the white fur beneath her pointy nose was displayed prominently. “Your schooling will not be easy,” she warned. “There is an art to being a great familiar—an art that requires more courage and cunning than you can ever guess.”

  She paused, and the world seemed silent. Amber suddenly thought that she heard sounds of battle in the distance, as if in a dream. There were shrieks of pain and shouts of fear and a hissing as if an army of kittens were on the prowl. The room seemed to grow dark, and suddenly the only light seemed to be coming from Ben.

  Lady Blackpool has cast a spell, Amber realized.

  “Ben,” the old shrew whispered, seeming to shrink in on herself. “There are prophecies of a golden mouse that will come to save the world through the dark times to come. And there are prophecies that a Ravenspell will march at her side. I do not ask you this lightly, but please, come to S.W.A.R.M.”

  Ben looked around fearfully, and Amber could see from his expression just how trapped and miserable he felt.

  “When I went to college,” Mona said, “I didn’t want to go, either. But my mother took me to the campus and showed me around. Once I saw how nice it was, I really wanted to go.”

  “But the Small Wizards’ Academy of Restorative Magic is in a swamp!” Ben said. “You heard Lady Blackpool. It’s hot and muggy and full of scorpions. What’s the chance that I’ll like it there?”

  Lady Blackpool smiled
slyly. “It is not without its attractions, I think.” She looked into Ben’s eyes, and her own eyes seemed to be little black stars shining in the night. “Come,” she said, “just for a look. You will find that you are honored there. Many will seek your company. Many would like to be your friend.”

  The offer hung like a cloud of smoke in the air, and Ben’s dad said, “Yes, but some will be jealous of your power and will be quick to become your enemies. You’ll have to watch your back, son.”

  Amber could see that Ben was poised on the edge of making a decision. His curiosity about the school, the threat of dangers and the promise of friendship, and perhaps most of all the prophecy that he would have an important part in a future war all seemed to be weighing on him.

  “Oh, please come,” Amber pleaded. “You won’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but I would feel so much better with you by my side.”

  Ben blinked and then bit his lower lip. “All right, but if I don’t like it, I’m not staying.”

  Chapter 10

  WORDS OF WARNING

  A wise man is always eager to listen to good advice.

  The world is so large, and there is so much to learn, that we must often seek counsel as best we may.

  —RUFUS FLYCATCHER

  It wasn’t until noon that Ben’s dad managed to line up a private jet to take the family to Disneyland. The plan was to go there for three days then head to S.W.A.R.M. So many paparazzi were phoning that he couldn’t call out. It wasn’t until Amber used her own little cell phone to call her friend that they were able to get reservations.

  Ben really was looking forward to the trip. He’d spent the entire morning in the spotlights, answering questions about what it was like to get turned into a mouse. He was tired, ready for a break.

  The family didn’t bring much luggage. They didn’t bring any clothes or toiletries. Ben’s mom figured that they could buy what they needed in California. So all that they had in their five suitcases was money—five million dollars worth of hundred dollar bills.

  There was some discussion as to just who should go on this trip. Amber wanted all of the mice to go, but over the past few days, hundreds of thousands of them had taken up residence in the woods behind Ben’s house.

  Ben’s mom pointed out that this would likely be a very frightening experience for mice, and so she suggested that just a few of the bravest mice should come.

  So finally they decided that Ben and Amber would be the only mice to come, along with Amber’s advisor, Lady Blackpool. “You’ll need someone to protect you,” she had warned, “until you’ve gathered enough mage dust so that your powers return.”

  The rest of the mice and voles planned to stay in the woods. Ben figured that they wouldn’t need anyone to protect them. The mice had their needles to use as weapons if they needed, and, of course, Amber had held a meeting a few days earlier and warned all of the nearby predators that mice were no longer to be a menu item.

  Then, of course, the travelers had to decide how to travel. “You mice can’t just wander around in Disneyland,” Ben’s mom said. “There are people everywhere, and someone might step on you.”

  “We’ll have to carry them around in a little cage,” Butch suggested.

  “Not me!” Amber warned, “I’ve had enough of cages in my lifetime!”

  Ben agreed. “We can’t go in a cage. We’re supposed to get people to free the mice.”

  “It would only be for your own protection,” Dad said. “I know . . . how about if Mom carries you in her purse?”

  “That would be dark and stuffy,” Ben objected.

  Amber whispered in Ben’s ear, “But I like dark, stuffy places!”

  “Not that dark and stuffy,” Ben said. “Besides, her purse smells like lipstick and chewing gum.”

  His mom came to the rescue with an idea of her own. “I know: I have that old yellow blouse with the big pockets! The mice can ride in those!”

  It was settled. Mom put on her yellow blouse, the mice were loaded into the pockets, and they went to the car. The paparazzi were all over the lawn, flashing pictures and shouting questions.

  “Amber,” one of them cried, “is it true that you’ve agreed to do the special effects in the next Harry Potter movie?”

  Another shouted, “Who does your hair?” A third asked, “Where do mice go when they go out on dates?”

  Amber got confused and tried to answer the questions as fast as she could. “What’s a movie?” “Mostly I paw through it myself.” “I’ve never been on a date!”

  Dad and Mom had to fight their way to the car, shoving aside photographers, squeezing in as quickly as they could.

  Then they were in the car, and everyone sighed in relief. Dad started the engine and began honking the horn, trying to get the paparazzi to move, but they just crowded around, flashing pictures and yelling questions.

  Flashbulbs strobed again and again, blinding everyone in the car.

  Amber picked up her little red phone and called the president, asking for help.

  At that moment, Ben noticed a beautiful little blue butterfly that had flapped in just as the door closed. It flew overhead then landed on the dashboard.

  “Hey,” the butterfly asked. “Have you guys heard the buzz?” The creature might have been staring at Ben, but he couldn’t be sure. It had faceted eyes, and so it could have been looking at everyone in the car at once.

  Lady Blackpool nosed up to the dashboard. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Of course,” the butterfly said.

  “What’s your name, little one?” Lady Blackpool asked.

  “Serena,” the butterfly said.

  Lady Blackpool smiled wisely. “So, Serena, what’s the buzz?”

  “The Lord of the Flies has hatched!” she said. “Her name is Belle Z. Bug. She has the most beautiful eyes in the world—as red as rubies—and the most beautiful metallic green carapace. Everyone says that she’s the most gorgeous fly, and so friendly and humble. She has this great deal on makeup. You can get fly-liner just for signing up some friends. And if their friends sign up, then you move up in the plan, higher and higher, and the rewards are . . . well, just impossible to imagine! Just think, you won’t have to be ugly anymore. Wouldn’t that be great? Want to join?”

  Ben’s mom shrieked, “Why, that sounds like some vile, twisted multi-level marketing scam to me . . . Sign me up!”

  “Yes,” Lady Blackpool said more cautiously. “Belle Z. Bug is playing a very dangerous game. She reinforces the feelings of ugliness in her victims on one hand, and then offers them beauty with the other. That is a very great evil indeed.”

  “You put fly-liner on around your eyes,” Serena said. “It makes you look more beautiful. You do want to be beautiful, don’t you? Want to join?” The poor butterfly sounded desperate to gain converts.

  “I really don’t think that you need fly-liner,” Lady Blackpool said gently. “After all, you’re a butterfly and one of the most beautiful that I’ve ever seen.”

  Lady Blackpool waved a paw at Serena, and suddenly the little butterfly seemed to waken from a daze.

  “What? Where am I?” Serena peered all about in alarm.

  “You’re among friends,” Lady Blackpool said. “You were under a spell cast by an evil fly. She blinded you to truth and reason and to your own innate beauty.”

  “Oh, goodness!” Serena said in alarm.

  “Now,” Lady Blackpool demanded, leaning close, “tell me more of what you know. Once this Belle Z. Bug converts the flies to her cause, what does she plan?”

  “Oh, dear!” Serena wandered about in a panic. “She’s amassing her armies, getting ready to destroy the world!”

  “Ah,” Lady Blackpool said as if she had expected this news. “And where can I find this Belle Z. Bug?”

  Suddenly a black housefly shot up out of the car’s grill and shouted at Serena, “Shut your mouth, you filthy traitor! When the Dark Lord rises, you’ll be first against the wall!”

  B
en’s mom warned the housefly, “Quiet! It’s not polite to butt in on another person’s conversation.”

  “You can’t order me around!” the housefly roared. Then it asked in a confused voice, “Hey, do you understand me?”

  Ben’s mom rolled up a magazine and swatted the fly.

  “Ack!” the fly cried. His voice came out rather miserable sounding. “It’s not polite,” he gasped, “to kill . . .”

  The whole family was trapped in the car, surrounded by paparazzi. One of them tried to open the door, but Ben’s mom hit the locks. The group had nothing else to do but sit and listen to Serena.

  “Go ahead,” Lady Blackpool said gently. “Tell us what you have to say.”

  The butterfly gasped, shocked at the fate of the housefly. “I can’t go on,” she said miserably. “I’m a traitor to my own species!”

  “No, you’re not,” Ben said. “You’re a butterfly. You’re beautiful and nice—not like some nasty housefly.”

  “You don’t need to convince her to talk,” Lady Blackpool told Ben. “There is a spell that compels her to speak.” The aging shrew now turned to Serena. “Go ahead, little one, spill your guts.”

  “The Lord of the Flies has risen at a garbage dump, far to the south of here!” she said. “That’s the buzz.”

  “I see,” Lady Blackpool said. “And what are her intentions. How will she attack?”

  “I don’t know,” Serena said. “I only heard that she has come to prepare the world for the Ever Shade—whoever he is—making it ready for his return.”

  For a long moment, Lady Blackpool considered the news. She glanced at Amber as if wondering what the young mouse might be able to do in the coming battle. But Amber had used up all of her magical energy. She couldn’t cast a spell for two more days.

  Lady Blackpool sighed. “I will have to face this one alone.” Her words hung heavily in the air.