Bad Unicorn

by Platte F. Clark

  “I don’t need luck,” Dirk said, stretching back on his seat in the air sled. “But it’s the thought that counts.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  NEVER STEP BETWEEN A UNICORN AND HER TOFU

  (THE TECHRUS—PRESENT)

  RICKY PRETTY MUCH FIGURED THAT THE HORSE-FACED GIRL AND HER creepy uncle were crazy. He watched as they rummaged through his dad and stepmom’s closet, looking for clothes that didn’t scream “escaped mental patients” or “Where’s the comic book convention?” if you wore them in public.

  The last two weeks had been nothing but bad. It had all started with being thrown by Sarah Jepson in the hallway. Then Sarah and her two friends had suddenly disappeared, which finally brought on a police investigation and rumors that Ricky had done something horrible to them. He hadn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop the town of Madison from believing that he had. Ricky was called into the police station and questioned for hours, until he demanded that they give him a lie detector test or leave him alone. His father’s attorney said that would be a mistake, but Ricky knew he was telling the truth. And really, it wouldn’t have mattered if Ricky had done something, as far as his stepmom was concerned. The scandal of being accused was enough—the damage to the family’s reputation had already been done.

  Ricky passed the lie detector test easily, and the police had backed off. His parents reacted by packing their bags and leaving for the Florida Keys for the weekend. Apparently, his stepmom couldn’t handle the stress of it all—which was fine by Ricky. She couldn’t handle their poodle getting a less-than-perfect trim, either, so being questioned by the police pretty much did her in. They didn’t ask Ricky if he wanted to come—his stepmom needed some “space.” They did take the dog, however.

  The girl, who claimed her name was “Princess,” didn’t like what she found in his stepmom’s closet and made her way to Ricky’s sister’s bedroom. Porsche (an equally unbelievable name) was away at college, so Ricky didn’t have a problem if Princess took what she wanted. She ended up with some kind of white blouse with a pink and blue floral skirt, and Converse sneakers. Princess looked as if she could have walked out the door of any college sorority in the country.

  “Magar” on the other hand, with his wispy goatee and mangled hair, wasn’t quite “rocking” Ricky’s dad’s Izod shirt and Dockers ensemble. He walked into the room and stood with his hands out, waiting for an appraisal.

  “Uh, sure,” Ricky said finally.

  “I like these clothes,” Princess said, finding a mirror and twirling around, admiring herself.

  “I think the point here is that we shouldn’t stand out,” Magar replied. “Are these . . . appropriate?”

  Ricky shrugged. “You two look a little weird together. So if you’re not trying to stand out, maybe you should tone it down a notch.”

  Thirty minutes later Princess and Magar were both in jeans and sneakers. Princess kept her white top and Magar had found a dark button-up shirt. “Better,” Ricky said, but his endurance for critiquing outfits had been exhausted. If the two of them had found adult-sized sleepers with padded bunny feet, Ricky would have sent them out the door telling them they looked perfectly normal.

  They went down to the kitchen, where Princess discovered the fridge and started tearing through things. There wasn’t much since Ricky’s stepmom only liked soy-based foods so horrible that other countries had banished them to the U.S. As Princess ate, Ricky reached into his pocket and found the gold coin Magar had given him. His dad had gold in the safe in the basement, and the coin felt heavy and soft just like gold was supposed to. For that, they could have all the food and clothes they wanted.

  Ricky wasn’t in the habit of letting strangers into the house, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t handle himself if things got violent. And he couldn’t help but wonder at the timing of it all—three kids missing and then two gold-bearing strangers showed up dressed like extras on some sword-and-sorcery movie. Definitely weird.

  Princess turned from the fridge with a plate of tofu in her hands. “This wasn’t sentient, was it? The monks put me on a stupid diet while I’m here—can’t eat anything smart enough to look in a mirror.”

  Ricky shook his head. “Nah—it’s hardly even food.”

  Princess crammed it into her face.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Magar asked.

  “I’ve had better,” Princess replied, chunks of tofu flying from her mouth. “But there’s no magical taint. Just imagine how something with a soul is going to taste!”

  “Yeah, that’s great,” Ricky said, wanting to get to the bottom of who these people were. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

  “We’re just new in town,” Princess answered, wiping her lips with her arm.

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “And we’re looking for a book.”

  “A very old book,” Magar added. “We followed a trail that led us here.”

  “A book?” Ricky asked, not understanding. “Really? This whole town’s looking for three lost kids and you guys are looking for a book?”

  Princess was about to say something rude (probably involving the word “insolent”) when Magar raised his hand, cutting her off. “Does that happen often? Lost children?”

  “What, are you kidding? Of course not.”

  “You should check the Gimbal,” Magar said to Princess, following a hunch. “I suspect something might be going on here.”

  Princess frowned as she put her plate back and pulled the Gimbal from her pocket. The inner rings of the translucent device opened and began spinning around the sphere at the center—but the arrow that appeared flickered erratically, dancing every which way until it bounced around with such intensity that Magar wondered if it might actually break. Princess moved her hand and the Gimbal stopped spinning, falling into her palm and closing in on itself.

  “That’s impossible,” Ricky exclaimed, staring at the see-through device in Princess’s hand.

  “Why isn’t it working?” Princess asked, ignoring Ricky. “What’s wrong?”

  “Perhaps it’s the Techrus itself,” the wizard wondered.

  “Rezormoor said I was strong enough to make it work here. And it’s not like anything happened to it.”

  Magar stroked the whiskers on his chin. “Hmm. If it’s not you, or this realm, or the Gimbal itself, then either the Codex is no longer here or it’s somehow shielding itself.”

  “‘Codex’ . . . ?” Ricky interjected, still getting his head around what he’d seen. “I’ve heard that word before.”

  Suddenly Ricky had their full attention. “Where, pray tell?” Princess demanded.

  Ricky realized he’d touched on something that was important to them. “I don’t know,” he replied coolly. “Maybe another gold coin would help me remember?”

  Princess smiled. “So the Techrus isn’t such a different place after all—greed is everywhere, it would seem.”

  Magar produced another coin and dropped it into Ricky’s hand. It was much easier to pay him than to let Princess take offense at the boy’s rudeness. The last thing he needed was for her to turn him into a pile of ash before they’d had a chance to find out what he knew.

  “That’s better,” Ricky said, pocketing the gold. “I remember that word because I thought this kid was showing off by not just calling it a book. That’s what ‘codex’ means, right? Just some old crappy book? That’s what the kid had in his hand.”

  “Tell me about him,” Magar continued, “this kid who had an old book and used the word ‘codex.’ ”

  But instead of answering, Ricky scowled and folded his arms. “Yeah, you see this is where it’s starting to get a little weird for me. I mean, you’re looking for one of the kids that went missing. I’m not sure me talking to you is such a good idea.”

  “Tell us his name, human!” Princess hissed.

  “Human? Seriously?”

  There was a quick knock at the kitchen door and someone turned the handle, openin
g it. “Ricky Reynolds, you in there?” But before Ricky could say anything, the head of Detective Jones poked through. He was middle-aged and balding, with a twenty-year-old tie and a brown suit that had probably never been in fashion. The detective noticed the group gathered around the kitchen and immediately sized up the two strangers. “You got visitors, Ricky?”

  Ricky hadn’t liked Detective Jones before he had tried to get Ricky to confess to abducting the missing kids. So now he downright hated him.

  “You’re not allowed to just come into people’s houses,” Ricky said coldly. “My dad left his lawyer’s card with me in case you guys tried something.”

  The detective stepped in anyway, never taking his eyes off Princess and Magar. In a missing child case with no leads, the appearance of two strangers in a small town was enough to spark his interest. “Thought I heard some kind of argument in here, so I’m coming in to make sure everyone’s okay—public safety and all that. These friends of yours?”

  “They’re not my friends. I don’t even know them.”

  “Right,” the detective said, looking around at the plates of food. “It’s ‘feed a stranger day,’ is that it?”

  “Something like that.”

  The detective moved his suit coat back, exposing the holstered pistol on his hip. “I assume everyone here has ID, right?”

  “ID?” Princess asked, looking at the detective’s gun. “Is that some kind of weapon? Are you threatening me?”

  “Careful,” Magar said, eyeing the man. “This must be a local constable of some sort.”

  “I don’t really care who he is, nobody threatens me.” Princess pulled her wand—an act that made the detective jump as he scrambled for his gun. But before he could pull the weapon from its holster, Princess flicked her wrist and sent the detective flying into the far wall. The impact caused him to drop the pistol, sending it clattering to the floor along with a number of pots and pans that had been hanging nearby. Then, as if he were somehow attached to a wire, she dragged the detective up the face of the wall and across the ceiling, taking out several lights along the way. When the detective was finally overhead, Princess flicked her wrist again and the man fell flat on the table, splintering the legs and crashing to the hardwood floor.

  Princess looked at her horn oddly. “That took way more effort than it should have.”

  “It’s the Techrus,” Magar said, stepping over to the unconscious detective. “You’re feeling its effects.”

  Ricky moved over to the detective as well. He leaned down to see that the man’s chest was moving.

  “Don’t worry,” Princess said with a smirk. “I didn’t feel like killing him.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried,” Ricky replied. He stood up and delivered a savage kick to the detective’s ribs. The man moaned and rolled over on his side.

  Princess smiled. “See that, Magar? Just when I was going to judge this human poorly, he goes and does something sweet.”

  Ricky pulled a pair of handcuffs from the detective’s belt and began securing him with them. “I don’t know how you did what you did,” Ricky said, ratcheting the lock into place. “But I get it—you guys aren’t from around here. And by ‘here’ I mean this planet.” Ricky dragged the detective over to one of the mounted bar stools and ran the cuffs behind it before locking the other wrist. He stood up, facing Princess and Magar. “This whole town hates me—my parents included. And the kid you asked me about, the one with the Codex, it’s pretty much his fault. All three of them, actually. Maybe they disappeared just to set me up, they’re smart like that. Or at least the girl is. So I get that you want to find them. But I do too.”

  “Oh, it’s so sweet,” Princess purred. “He wants revenge.”

  “Just take me with you,” Ricky continued. “I don’t care where, just anywhere but here. I can, like, totally be your guide, helping you get around. I can fight, too. I’m not some weakling.”

  “He might prove useful,” Magar suggested.

  “But not as just a guide,” Princess said, eyeing Ricky carefully. “He’ll be my ward. You see, you’re just rented. But this one will belong to me.”

  “The kid you’re looking for is named Max Spencer,” Ricky announced, looking to prove himself useful. “He’s with a girl, Sarah, and another dweeb named Dirk. But Max is the one with the book—he’s the one that called it a Codex. He reads it on the bus.”

  “He reads it . . . ?” Magar asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, totally.”

  “If that’s true,” Princess began, bending down to drag her finger though spilled tofu sauce on the floor, “it means he’s an heir.”

  “A blood descendant of Maximilian Sporazo after so many years,” Magar added. “Incredible.”

  Princess smiled, sliding her horn into the waist of her pants as she stood back up. “I’d say our little human here seems to be working out.”

  “The Kraken,” Ricky said. “That’s what people call me because I crack their insides.”

  Princess smiled. “And cute as a button, isn’t he?”

  “Adorable,” Magar replied.

  “Now listen,” Princess said, speaking to Ricky in a commanding tone. “You’ll have to work very hard before I call you by name. For now you’re simply my human. And don’t presume to call me anything but ‘Your Highness.’ Is that understood?”

  “I understand . . . Your Highness,” Ricky managed to say, but the words didn’t come easy.

  Princess walked over to the gun on the floor. “Huh. Primitive and ugly,” she announced. “We’ll stick to magic.”

  “As you wish,” the wizard replied.

  “As far as our next move, Magar, we know this Max Spencer has the Codex. So why doesn’t the Gimbal just point to him? It’s not doing what it’s supposed to.”

  “We were told the boy had gone missing. What if he used the Codex to disappear?”

  “You mean turn invisible? I don’t think the Gimbal would be fooled.”

  “I mean leave,” Magar replied. “Perhaps with the Codex he can travel as we can?” Princess didn’t like the idea of a human who could step across realms—tracking him down would be that much harder.

  “Even so,” Princess said after thinking it over, “it doesn’t explain why the Gimbal isn’t working.”

  “I’ve been thinking—there’s a place that sits between the realms. What if the boy traveled there?”

  “The Mesoshire?”

  “It does seem logical,” Magar added, briefly eyeing the gun on the floor. “In any case, I recommend we go and find out.”

  Princess couldn’t see a better option. “Fine,” she announced, turning to Ricky. “You, go pack my old clothes and travel things. And don’t forget to bow on your way out—and really bend when you do it, not like Magar. His bowing is pathetic.”

  Ricky did. He wasn’t used to being submissive, but at least he was leaving Madison and that was enough to keep his resentment in check . . . for the moment.

  On the Three Trees

  THE THREE MOST FAMOUS TREES IN the Magrus are the Tree of Attenuation, the Tree of Woe, and the Tree of Abysmal Suffering. The Tree of Attenuation is kept securely at the top of a mountain fortress, guarded by club-wielding monks who possess the secrets of traveling between the realms. The Tree of Woe is found deep in the Turul wastes, somewhere north of the Goblin City, just past Denny’s. Finally, the Tree of Abysmal Suffering is located prominently in the foyer of the Lawyer’s Guild in Aardyre. It is said that most of the Guild’s clientele actually prefer the horrific pain of the Tree to the experience of interacting with the staff. However, those who wish to indulge themselves within the thorny limbs are still billed at the Guild’s normal hourly rate.

  At one time there was a fourth tree of renown: the Tree of Fowl-Mouthed Mutterings that yelled unflattering things at birds. It had the misfortune of saying something off-color to the zombie duck, however, and that was the last of that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  RISE OF THE KRAKE
N

  (THE MESOSHIRE—PRESENT)

  THE POWER OF PRINCESS’S HORN WRAPPED IN THE BRANCH FROM the Tree of Attenuation was truly a marvel. Princess had taken one step and walked from the Techrus to the Mesoshire. She had never been to the city between the realms before, and as the world came into focus she found herself in the middle of a bustling street.

  Ricky thought he’d stepped back in time. The street was a tangle of pipes and heavy cables, with steel and glass structures built on, around, and sometimes over the older stone and brick buildings beneath. Gas flames burned within streetlights that were woven together by a network of pipes and regulators, and horseless carriages were propelled by snarling engines that coughed smoke.

  He turned to see Princess working with her strange compass, getting visibly frustrated, and then snapping it shut. “It’s still not working!” she complained. “How is that possible?”

  “Maybe we should look around. The Mesoshire is unique, to say the least.”

  Just then an orc approached, pushing a wagon full of its wares. His skin was a muddy brown, with crisscrossing lines that made him look as if he’d been burned. He had the typical roundish orc nose—pushed up and flaring under heavy bone that ran beneath the eyebrows—and his ears were turned on their sides. “Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” he said in a nasal voice. “That takes some powerful magic, methinks.”

  “Whoa!” Ricky exclaimed, jumping back upon seeing the creature up close.

  The orc smiled, showing rows of pointed teeth. “First-timers, eh?”

  “Don’t mind my human,” Princess replied, putting her horn and Gimbal away. “He’s still being trained.”

  “Smells fresh,” the orc said, his nose flaring. “Wanna trade for him?”

  Princess peered into the wobbly cart. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much worth trading.”

  The Orc held his finger up and then started rummaging through his belongings, tossing things about until he produced a mason jar. There were two snow faeries trapped inside.