Origin

by Dave Higgins

  His parents discarded ticket after ticket, throwing each further and scraping each harder than the last. “You’re a waste of a life,” Patty said as she threw another on the floor. “You’re not any bit as lucky as that mid-wizard said you’d be. I think he lied to us.”

  Edmond hung his head. A real scholar would know how to make people listen. He frowned. Something looked odd about the ticket his mother had just hurled.

  A second ticket stuck out from behind it. He put the candle on the table and crouched down to retrieve the ticket, pretending to be tidying the discards. Unscratched ticket hidden in his armpit, he retreated to his mattress.

  With one eye on the flurry of Scratchums to make sure his parents weren’t looking, he scratched away the covering on his discovery. His glance down revealed three blobs, details hidden by the gloom.

  Ticket cupped in the palm of his hand, he sidled back to the table. Ignoring the paper arcing from his parents to bounce off his body, he flicked his gaze down. The three symbols on the ticket matched. Three crude pictures of a castle. What did that mean? Had he won? The card seemed to blur into shadow.

  “Gimme.” Dobb grabbed the ticket in Edmond’s hand. “Patty, look! I won! What did I win?”

  Patty snatched the ticket. “I won a castle! …I think. We need to find the Scratchums man and ask.”

  Edmond’s parents sprinted out the door; but this time he didn’t let them leave alone. Suddenly glad for all those years running away from people larger than he was, he chased his parents through the streets. If they’d won something big, they might have money to hire a teacher. Then he could learn reading for real… and writing and complicated sums. Edmond’s hopes lifted as they hurried through the muddy streets.

  The Scratchums man was working a pub in the poorer district, where judgement was clouded and desperation was heavy.

  Patty skidded to a halt on the soggy straw, ticket thrust out like a lance. “What did I win?”

  The man leaned to the side, then smiled. “Congratulations, you’ve won a kingdom!”

  “A kingdom?” Patty asked. “A whole kingdom?”

  “Does that make us rich, Patty?” Dobb asked.

  “All the feeding and looking after you finally paid off, Eddie,” Patty said, grinning at Edmond. “You finally won something.”

  Edmond stared at her with wide eyes, but her attention was already back on the Scratchums man.

  Edmond’s shoulders slumped further than usual. Was that all his mother thought he was good for? Was he just a winning ticket for them? Edmond turned away and rubbed his eyes.

  Chapter 4

  Camp

  The Scratchums man had grinned from ear to ear, announcing their win repeatedly to everyone in the tavern. Edmond supposed winners were good for Scratchums sales, but he still wasn’t sure why the man had been so happy.

  The man had given Patty directions to the Kingdom of Bad Elbow, where apparently Edmond’s parents were now landed royalty. Edmond wasn’t sure how that was different from other royalty.

  In fact, after two weeks walking north, arguing about which way was north, and discovering the Sun never rose in the north, the only thing he was sure about was that his feet were sore. But the sign they’d staggered past as the Sun set suggested they’d reach Bad Elbow tomorrow.

  The forest was quiet, only the occasional hoot of an owl or screech of a fox breaking the night. Using the now traditional method of waiting until one of them were too tired to argue, his parents selected a campsite.

  Feet arguing about which could throb more, Edmond eyed a nearby log. Maybe he could sit down for just a moment. But then he wouldn’t get up again. He dropped his bags next to the log in the hope it would stop one of his parents claiming it and headed off to gather wood before it got to dark to see.

  When he returned, Patty and Dobb lounged against a large rock, grins on their faces.

  Edmond’s pleasure at getting the log faded when he realised the food was still packed and the bedrolls were still rolled. He let the dead wood tumble to the ground. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re majesties now,” Patty said. “Majesties don’t do any work for themselves. You have to do it all.”

  Edmond frowned. “Aren’t I a majesty too?”

  “You’re a prince,” Patty said. “We’re the king and queen. That means you have to cook.”

  “That’s right,” Dobb said. “No more work.”

  Edmond pondered if it was worth arguing with them. Deciding the argument would take more effort than setting up camp and not actually get him supper, he laid the fire and set the kettle over it.

  As the water warmed, he set the bedrolls around the fire.

  Once the work was done, his parents sat on their bedrolls and watched the flames as the food heated up.

  “We’ll have servants tomorrow,” Patty said. “And fine clothes. And better food than this.”

  “Hey,” Edmond muttered. “I’m doing the best with what we have.”

  “They’ll have caviar, and lobsters, and snails,” Patty said.

  “I can find you a few snails, if you want,” Dobb offered.

  “Not those kind of snails,” Patty said. “Special snails. They might even have quail.”

  “I just want a nice slice of bread with butter and cheese on it,” Dobb said.

  “Me too,” Edmond said. “That sounds better than eating bugs and tiny birds.”

  “We’ll live in a castle,” Patty said. “No more holes in the walls; no matter how hard you slip, Dobb.”

  Edmond stared into the flames, imagining the life of luxury ahead of them. As the kettle began to bubble, he took it off the flames and doled out a slightly suspect stew. They both gobbled their food down quickly, each reaching for seconds as quickly as possible. In the end, Dobb was fastest to the ladle and took the little that was left.

  Edmond put his bowl aside and looked around the clearing, staring into the darkness between the trees. Moments later, an acrid scent trickled through the clearing and something thudded into his lap.

  He stared down at his mother’s feet. Her corns glistened uninvitingly in the firelight.

  “Foot massage,” Patty said.

  “I don’t want to touch your feet.” Even thinking about it long enough to say it made Edmond’s gut churn.

  “I’m a majesty. Foot massage.”

  Edmond wrinkled his nose and poked at her left foot with his finger. Was this what he had to look forward to? His parents had never been the most caring; now they were just demanding.

  “Properly.” Patty’s voice rose. “I’m the queen and I want a foot massage. Now, now, now.”

  Edmond’s ears hurt more than his nose. He pushed down the heaving sensation in his stomach and pressed his knuckles into the sole of her foot.

  “Ooooh… So good…” His mother spread her toes, adding a new layer to the foot fug. “You’re so good at that, Eddie.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Edmond kept his head down, avoiding his father’s gaze. He’d no intention of massaging his father’s sweaty feet too.

  “You should give yourself a foot massage when you’re done,” Patty said with a smile.

  Edmond clucked at her stupidity. She really didn’t know what she was saying half the time. And his father was even worse. They just blundered around making idiotic decisions like a… like a pair of village idiots.

  They treated him like a little accomplice, a tool to help their schemes. He wouldn’t mind so much if the cycle of scheming and running made things better. If they did make any money, though, they just spent it on Scratchums. He’d probably wake up next week to find they’d sold the kingdom to buy Scratchums.

  “I hope there’s books in the castle.” Patty grinned.

  Edmond’s head rose. “Books?”

  “Yeah. Lots of books. Maybe even a tutor. You’re going to be a prince, silly, so you can learn to read.”

  “Pointless,” Dobb said. “What can books tell you?”

  Patty slapped Dobb’s arm
. “Now we’ve won, Eddie is going to get to do whatever he wants. No more pulling pigs around and slogging through mud. He’s going to be a fancy scholar.”

  Not even the stench of his mother’s feet stopped Edmond gasping. All the abuse, the near starvation, to buy Scratchums. It had all been to give him a chance at getting him his dream. His parents did care after all.

  “I think he should still mind the pigs.” Dobb raised one massive fist. “Don’t want him to get soft.”

  Edmond threw another log on the fire and finished his mother’s feet, even the bits between her toes. In the morning, he’d be a prince and get all the books he could ever want. And with his charm around his neck, he could read them too.

  Chapter 5

  Kings

  The castle perched on the edge of a cliff, seeming on the verge of slipping off and tumbling down the mountain. Towers poked like spikes into the sky, birds spiralling around them. Edmond lowered his gaze and tried to ignore the aching in his legs. The castle had loomed over them for hours. But the closer they got, the more overgrown the roads were. If someone hadn’t burnt the worst of it away recently, they might not have made it to the hill before dark.

  Scree rolled beneath Edmond’s feet, sending him skidding and sliding back one step for every two he made. Somehow, his parents raced ahead, apparently too stupid to realise they should be slipping.

  The closer they came to the castle, the higher his mother raised the food-stained Certificate of Ownership. Every few steps, Dobb lunged for it, turning their approach into a demented relay race. A loud boom rang across the hill as the two of them slammed full tilt into the doors, each clutching one end of the certificate.

  The echoes faded, leaving only the sound of panting. Then Edmond heard a tapping sound from inside. The moments stretched. Something thudded inside, followed by a click. Finally, the door opened and an elderly man looked out. “Yes?”

  The man peered at them from under a filthy grey fringe, age-curved spine robbing him of what height he had to begin with. A yellowing cravat hung unevenly from the top of his dusty red waistcoat. When not speaking, his front teeth bit into his lower lip, giving him the appearance of a particularly malnourished rat.

  “We won this kingdom.” Patty yanked the certificate from Dobb’s grasp and thrust it at the man. Edmond realised his mother was holding certificate backward.

  It turned out not to matter. The man didn’t even glance at it before throwing the doors wide. “Congratulations. I am Burdon Grahame, your butler. Welcome to Bad Elbow.”

  His monotone robbed his words of any excitement. As soon as they’d all stepped inside, he closed the door after them, locked it, dropped a bar across it, and then double-checked it. Satisfied, he gestured for them to follow him. “How was your journey?”

  “Long,” Patty said. “I’d never even heard of this place before. Has it been here long?”

  Burdon gave Patty a look, as if re-evaluating his estimation. “Not as long as the mountains and seas.”

  Shoving open a set of double-doors, Burdon led them into a large hall with a long table in it. The walls were decorated with more dark wood than seemed necessary. Every shelf was filled with urns, vases, and flowerpots. “This is the dining room.”

  The table was well polished beneath the layer of dust. Some of the chairs were broken, only held up by the table in front of them. It must have been glorious before neglect devoured it.

  “How many servants do we have?” Patty asked.

  “Just one,” Burdon staggered to a door at the far side of the room.

  “Oh,” Patty said. “And how many people live in Bad Elbow?”

  “One.” Burdon looked at them for a moment. “Well, four at the moment, I suppose.”

  Edmond frowned. Why’d an old man live alone in a kingdom? Surely, someone needed to bring him food? Or at least talk to him? Wouldn’t he go mad on his own?

  Unless Burdon was the castle idiot. Maybe the other staff were in another room, doing… whatever staff did.

  The next room was even bigger than the dining hall, the shattered remains of large windows illuminating the scorch marks and piles of ash covering the floor. Piles that were mostly clustered in twos. Between the ash, Edmond saw glimpses of a well-polished floor. A decidedly not-idiotic feeling of unease oozed further into Edmond’s mind.

  Dobb gasped and pointed up at an intricately painted ceiling depicting flying babies shooting people with arrows. “Are there flying babies around here?”

  “No,” Burdon said. “No flying babies.”

  Dobb frowned in disappointment, then brightened. “What about bedrooms?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Burdon said.

  “Your Majesty?” Dobb said.

  “Your Majesty.” Patty curtsied to Dobb.

  “Your Majesty.” Dobb bowed back.

  Burdon shook his head and led them up some dusty, winding stairs to a level above. A series of doors led off a corridor. Large holes in the carpet exposed blackened planks beneath. Ignoring the puffs of pale dust that rose with each step, Burdon opened the first door and gestured inside. “The Royal Suite.”

  Patty and Dobb ran into the room. A gigantic four-poster bed dominated the centre of the room, but the mirrors and dressers around the walls were almost as impressive. Any one of them would sell for enough gold to feed the three of them for years. Patty and Dobb dashed for the bed, helping one another up onto it.

  Burdon closed the door, cutting off the sound of two people bouncing, and tottered down the corridor.

  “What happened?” Edmond asked. “It looks like there’s been a fire.”

  “We’ve had a minor infestation problem,” Burdon said. “But it’s getting better… probably.”

  Edmond frowned. Before he could ask what the kingdom was infested with, Burdon opened a door to reveal the most incredible room Edmond had ever seen. Books lined every wall, the windows mere cracks in the cliffs of leather spines. An enormous desk, sagging under the weight of six huge books dominated the centre of the room.

  Letting his gaze scan the room for a third time, Edmond noticed a small bed mostly buried under yet more books.

  “The former duchess liked to read,” Burdon said. “We have other rooms, if you’d prefer.”

  “No. This one’s perfect.” It had to be fate that had led him to the room with all the books. Perhaps his luck was paying off.

  Edmond walked to the desk. Each of the books was open to pictures of giant, fire-breathing lizards. “She seems very interested in dragons.”

  “Well naturally. Because of the infestation.”

  “The infestation?” Memories of the journey and the rooms below rose up. “Wait, the infestation is dragony?”

  “It did have a certain dragonish quality.” Burdon’s shoulders hunched further, making him look like a woodlouse in livery. “But it’s getting better… probably.”

  “As in, a dragon killed everyone a long time ago?”

  “Dragons. And they didn’t kill everyone: some people were still alive when they fled; and I’m still here.”

  “How many dragons are there?”

  “I’m not sure. Dozens… perhaps more. They tend to stay on the other side of the kingdom these days, in Dragon Valley.”

  “Dragon Valley?”

  “It used to be called Pleasant Brook Valley. But the duchess renamed it… because of all the dragons.”

  Edmond’s gaze went back to the books. “And the duchess was trying to find a way to get rid of them?”

  “Until she was eaten.”

  “Then you need to read what she was looking at,” Edmond said. “Find out if there’s anything we can do.”

  Burdon shook his head. “I can’t read, Your Highness. My intelligence is only four and my Wisdom’s no better.”

  Edmond picked up a book and looked at the symbols on the page facing the illustration. There were so many of them, and they were tiny. If he sounded out every letter, it would take him all night to get through a si
ngle page.

  Burdon retreated toward the door. “Is there anything else, Your Highness?”

  Edmond needed peace and quiet to think. “No. Not right now.”

  “Very good.” Burdon bowed, straggly hair almost brushing the floor, then closed the door behind him.

  Edmond pulled out his scroll and laid it on the desk beside the books, then struggled to read the words:

  Dragons are a nuisance. Once they first appear, they can be troublesome to get rid of. Fortunately, they are rare: there is seldom more than one in any location.

  The best cure for a dragon infestation is an adventurer on a quest; or several, if the first proves ineffective. To lure adventurers, many nobles spread rumours of dragons hoarding gold for centuries. Which is nonsense, of course, but don’t tell the peasants.

  Edmond put the book down. Evening had turned to night while he read. He realised it had taken him an hour to spell out the words, repeating them until they made sense. And he was no closer to finding a solution than before. He wasn’t an adventurer, and neither were his parents. And Burdon seemed the furthest thing from an adventurer possible.

  Something flickered in the distance. A great gout of fire shot into the air, followed a moment later by another and another. Then dozens of flames lit the night sky.

  Edmond ran from his room and down the corridor to his parents’ door, banging on it with his fist. After a moment, he realised the sounds of activity on the other side were his parents throwing things at each other because Dobb broke a dresser.

  It would be hours before they calmed down enough to hear him knocking. Shoulders rounded, he walked back to his own room. After staring out the window for a while without seeing another gout of flame, he doused the candles, pulled the blankets from his bed, and crawled underneath it.

  Chapter 6

  Kingdoms

  Next morning, Edmond rolled out from under his bed, arms tensed to roll himself back again. Not finding any signs of dragons, he rose to his feet and stretched the kinks from his back. He hadn’t expected sleeping in his own room in a castle would be less comfortable than his pile of straw in a hovel.