The Dark and Forbidding Land

by Wesley Allison

  “Should we head into the trees?” asked Shrubb, still staring at the three foot long print.

  “Not unless we have to. The brush is pretty thick along here and there’s been a flock of deinonychus about. Up ahead there’s an iguanodon trail.”

  They continued up the beach, being much more careful than they had been. About a half mile beyond where they had first come upon the tyrannosaurus prints, they cut right, following the wide pathway that led through the trees. The giant claw prints continued their way down the beach.

  Even on the relatively wide path, the trees seemed to close in around them. Between the shelter of the giant redwoods and the gloomy cast of the clouds overhead, the light that managed to reach ground level put one more in mind of dusk than of mid-morning. All about them, strange birds chirped and squawked, though for the most part they remained unseen. A single microraptor, one of Birmisia’s bizarre four winged birds, shot from one tree to another.

  “With all the new arrivals, I guess it won’t be long before this area is all covered with houses,” said Shrubb.

  “Not this area,” replied Saba, pointing first to his right and then his left. “For about one hundred yards in this direction and about two hundred in that, from the shore to the road; twenty acres and it’s all mine.”

  “Your kidding? This is prime real estate. Why… the governor’s home is almost right across the street.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “How?”

  “Services rendered,” Saba looked at Shrubb’s perplexed face. “In the early days… fighting the lizzies.”

  “You must be some hero or I guess the governor really is generous.”

  “She is. Not that she would have given me this particular bit of land, at least not without some outside influence. I’m sure Mayor Korlann and my mother had more than a little to do with it. But she did originally offer me one hundred acres just southwest of town, not too far from Zurfina’s tower. I knew that this land would be more valuable though.”

  They followed the path until it intersected with the gravel road. About one hundred yards to their right was the carriage gate of the Dechantagne estate. The stately structure looked complete, its large portico supported by four two story columns now painted, and the double gabled roof now tiled. Smoke poured from all fourteen stone chimneys, hanging low in the air as the clouds dropped down to meet it.

  As the two soldiers made their way up the steps, the lizardman majordomo opened the door for them, but watched them carefully with his deep yellow eyes. Inside they doffed their greatcoats and made their way into the parlor. There was no one there, but before they had time to think on this, another lizardman entered, this one wearing a short yellow frill just above its tail.

  “Yew Sada,” said the reptilian.

  “Huh?”

  “Yew Sada.”

  “Your name, mate,” said Shrubb. “It's trying to say your name.”

  “Huh? Oh yeah. Sab… well, kind of difficult to say without lips, isn’t it?”

  “Cissy get lady,” said the lizardman, and turning around, disappeared through the doorway through which it had come.

  “Fine,” said Saba, turning to look at Shrubb. “Depending of course on which lady she gets…”

  A moment later though the reptile returned with his mother following close behind.

  “There’s my handsome boy,” she said, grasping him around his middle. “You’re just in time for luncheon, you know. Who’s your friend?”

  “Mother, may I introduce Private Shrubb?”

  Mrs. Colbshallow gave Shrubb just as large a hug as she had given her son.

  “Come, come,” she said. “We’re just setting out the table.”

  She led them through the hallway out into the spacious dining room. Four or five lizzies were setting platters on the table, each of which was heaped with food: steak and kidney pie, sausage and onion sandwiches, cheddar and chutney sandwiches, tomato and pickled corn salad, and not one but two mountainous platters of golden chips.

  “Kafira blimey,” said Shrubb, appreciatively.

  “Exactly how many are you expecting for lunch?” asked Saba.

  “Well, there is always someone who needs feeding,” replied the former cook, knowingly. “Cissy, call all the others to luncheon please.”

  There were no empty chairs around the massive dining room table, though of course it was large enough that at least three or four more place settings could have been added without compromising the elbow room of the diners. Terrence Dechantagne sat at the head of the table, while his new wife Yuah sat just to his right. The new Mrs. Dechantagne was wearing a beautiful day dress that would have rivaled anything in the Governor’s closet, surely. Next to her was Mrs. Colbshallow, and then Saba, and to his right, Eamon Shrubb. To Terrence’s left was his brother-in-law Merced Calliere, then the governor who of course was Terrence’s sister and Calliere’s wife. To her left was old Mrs. Godwin, the former maid from the Dechantagne home in Shopton. And next to Mrs. Godwin was a young man in a charcoal grey suit. Saba had never seen him before.

  Saba didn’t pay too much attention to the conversation, which had followed the others into the dining room from whichever household location they had come. He was more interested in getting a cheddar and chutney sandwich before they were all gone. His mother was justly famous for her chutneys—onion and garlic, lime, cocoanut and mango, eggplant and lemon. There was nothing better than one of her sweet fruit chutneys—apple, peach, or recently mango—paired with aged cheddar on her homemade bread.

  “This isn’t your bread,” he said almost involuntarily after taking a bite.

  “No dear, I bought two very nice five-pound loaves from Mrs. Finkler and Son, though this chutney and many other jars full are still part of our provender.” She raised her voice, directing it toward the far end of the table, but no one there seemed to be listening to her.

  “What do Merchant or Shannon know about coal anyway?” said Professor Calliere.

  “I dare say they use enough of the stuff,” replied Terrence.

  “I hear that Alistair Merchant is as randy as an old goat,” said Mrs. Godwin.

  Shrubb snorted into his beer. Saba looked down the table at Governor Dechantagne-Calliere. He half expected her to give the old woman a stiff elbow in the side, but all she did was narrow her eyes and purse her lips.

  “Um, yes, well we can afford to wait for the best offer at least,” said Calliere. He was speaking to his brother-in-law, but it was his wife who answered.

  “I shall wait exactly long enough to receive the offer I want.” She turned and smiled. “Mr. Streck needn’t hear us squabbling about it.”

  The man in the charcoal suit, apparently Mr. Streck, nodded in recognition, but didn’t speak.

  Silence reigned for several moments until at last Yuah Korlann… Yuah Dechantagne broke it. “What is the news from town, Saba?”

  Saba was caught up for just a second by the sound of Yuah saying his name. He had always liked his name when she said it. Then he realized that by not answering he was drawing attention to himself. And by the time he realized that, everyone at the table was looking expectantly at him.

  “Um, nothing really. Well, a lizzie tried to murder Zurfina.”

  “That is newsworthy,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “She hardly ever comes out of that house of hers.”

  “The lizzie is dead,” Saba added.

  “That would only be news if it were not the case,” said the governor.

  It took Saba a few seconds to realize that she was speaking to him. Though she had done so on more than a few occasions in the past, after all, he had lived in her house, it had never been in such a conversational way. Now that he thought about it though, he couldn’t remember a situation where they had ever sat down together.

  “Yes ma'am,” he said.

  “The real news is that the tyrannosaurus is about this morning,” said Shrubb, who seemed far less intimidated by the company that Saba felt. “We
saw its tracks in the beach sand on the way here.”

  “It was on this side of town?” asked Terrence.

  Shrubb nodded, perhaps forgetting that the captain was blind. Saba added. “Yes sir.”

  The meal was of course delicious. Saba felt more than stuffed by the time he had cleared his plate and noticed without satisfaction that he and his fellow militiaman were largely responsible for their being no chips remaining on either serving platter. Even so, his mother leaned over and patted him on the shoulder, telling him that she would fix a bag of sandwiches for him and his friend to take with them.

  “Our young militiamen cannot leave us yet,” said the professor. “You two must join Mr. Streck, Terrence, and myself on the portico for a cigar.”

  The governor raised an eyebrow and Saba expected her to say “send them away as they’ve been away from their post for far too long already,” or at least “no smoking near the house.” She chose instead words that sent a chill down his spine. “An excellent idea. You and Terrence take the private and go on out. Corporal Colbshallow can follow in a moment. I need a word alone with him.”

  The gentlemen headed for the front door. Mrs. Colbshallow began barking orders half in Brech and half in aboriginal, to the lizzie wait staff, who immediately began clearing the table. Yuah stood up to walk around the table and give Saba a kiss on the cheek before taking Mrs. Godwin’s arm and leading her in the direction of the library. Saba admired the dark blue bows that decorated the backside of the light blue dress, and then realized that the equally beautifully bedecked governor was at his elbow.

  “It was most opportune that you joined us for lunch today.”

  “Oh?”

  “I needed to speak to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes,” she said with the care normally given when speaking to someone not too bright. “I have need of you. Do you know what ship arrives in port tomorrow?”

  “The Windermere.”

  “Excellent. Yes, that’s right. There’s a man arriving on it. His name is Archibald Brockton. I want you to make contact with him for me.”

  “Why don’t you just have him brought here?”

  “Obviously because I don’t want to meet him. I want you to meet him. Arrange lodgings for him and then contact me for further instructions.”

  “This sounds a bit like top secret government work,” said Saba.

  “As well it might.” The governor smiled thinly.

  When Saba joined the other men outside on the porch, Terrence, Professor Calliere, and Mr. Streck were all smoking cigars. Shrubb was leaning against a massive two-story column.

  “You’ll have a cigar at least, won’t you?” asked the professor. “Your friend here doesn’t seem to like them.”

  “I don’t like the way they make my skin feel,” said Shrubb. “Kind of flushed.”

  “That shows that it is vorking,” said Mr. Streck, speaking for the first time.

  “That’s a Freedonian accent, isn’t it?” asked Saba.

  “Ja. I am Professor Calliere’s solicitor in the fatherland.”

  Just then a horrendous roar cut through the chilly air. It echoed through the trees and through the bones of the men on the porch.

  “Mein Gott in Himmel,” said Streck.

  “That’s the tyrannosaurus,” said Shrubb.

  “Yes,” agreed Terrence. “It’s just made a kill.”

  Chapter Five: Spells and Potions

  Senta looked through the glass of the small clear bottle at the milky green liquid inside. She swirled it around. It was just thick enough that the potion coated the inside of the glass.

  “So if I drink this, I’ll be beautiful?” she wondered.

  “I would be most surprised,” said Zurfina the Magnificent, who was lying naked across the divan. “You haven’t done it properly. It’s supposed to be a lovely forest green—not a putrid olive.”

  “I used all the right ingredients and I put them in, in the right order.”

  “But you didn’t maintain the necessary aura.”

  “Aura? Kafira’s fanny! I didn’t need to worry about the aura when I was making happiness potion.”

  “Trained lizzies could mix blessudine. It’s the easiest potion to make. Hermosatin is twice as difficult, amorazine more difficult than that, and dionoserin more difficult still.”

  “Alright,” huffed Senta. “In exactly which part did I let my aura drop?”

  “The rose petals.”

  “Well, I can’t do it again. I don’t have any more rose petals. Why do you need rose petals anyway? I can understand cucumbers. Cucumbers are vegetables and vegetables are supposed to be good for you. I’ve never heard roses were good for you. I don’t even think you’re supposed to eat them.”

  “Do you want to be a sorceress or a chemist?” said Zurfina, sitting up. “Do you think this is a science experiment? Cucumber is essential, but not because it’s good for you. It represents a man.”

  “A man?”

  “A specific part of a man anyway.”

  “His todger?” asked Senta, incredulously.

  “Yes, of course. And the rose petals represent the woman.”

  “Her fanny? His todger and her fanny? And I’m supposed to drink this?”

  “Relax,” said Zurfina, rising to her feet. “It’s not like it has the real bits in it. They are just representatives. That’s what magic is about. Dionoserin doesn’t have walnuts because they have any real connection to your brain. They just sort of look like a brain when you take them out of their shell.”

  “I’ve had enough for today.”

  “Yes, so have I,” said Zurfina, heading for the staircase. “Your ineptitude has completely worn me out. I’m going to take my beauty sleep. You should read your primer. You’ve been neglecting your studies.”

  “What will happen if I drink this?” asked Senta, holding up the small bottle.

  “It might be interesting to find out,” said her mistress, stopping on the first step to watch. “Go ahead and drink it.”

  The girl tilted the bottle to her lips and swallowed the contents down. She licked her lips and waited, but nothing seemed to happen.

  “It tastes alright,” she said.

  “That’s the spearmint.”

  “What does it represent?”

  “It doesn’t represent anything,” said Zurfina, ascending the stairs. “It just makes it taste good.”

  Senta followed Zurfina up the stairs, but stopped at her own room as the sorceress continued on. Going to the bookcase, she pulled out primer number six. She plopped herself onto her bed and began reading about the classification of animals. The people who had put the book together had obviously never been to Birmisia. They had the animals of the world divided into nice neat categories— invertebrates, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, and mammals. The deinonychus and velociraptors that wandered around the edges of Port Dechantagne had feathers, so they must be birds. Yet they seemed to have much more in common with the iguanodons that had moved south into the forest. They were reptiles, weren’t they? Senta decided to think more on the topic at a later time. She was running around in her unders and right now she was starting to feel the cold creep in around her. She went to the cast iron stove and tossed a few more logs in. The firebox on this floor was almost empty and it was her job to keep it full. One of these days Zurfina would teach her a spell for filling the firebox, or at least for carrying big piles of wood easily up the stairs.

  She went to the window and peered out. The sun was going down and it was all grey and white amid the trees. The wind whistled on the other side of the thin pane of glass. Five days earlier the storm had rolled in from the north and it hadn’t let up since. She hadn’t been outside in that whole time and no one had come to visit her either. Senta resolved to go visiting on the morrow regardless of the weather. She opened the primer again, but ten minutes passed without her reading another word.

  She heard the front door a level below open and slam shut. It nev
er occurred to her that someone would enter who had no business being there. This was Zurfina the Magnificent’s home and such an action would have been more than reckless– it would have been suicidal. She turned her head toward the stairway and watched until the graceful form of the steel dragon danced over the top step.

  “Pet,” said Bessemer.

  “Come here and warm me up,” Senta commanded.

  The dragon’s long, lithe body crossed the room in two quick steps and hopped onto the bed with her. A moment later his body was on top of hers, his neck was wrapped around hers, with his head resting on her chest, and his long tail was wrapped around her right leg. His scaly skin felt hard and smooth, but he was exceptionally warm. It was like having a big scaly hot water bottle.

  “Did you find something to eat?” asked Senta.

  “Yes.”

  “What was it?”

  “Possum.”

  “Opossum.” Senta stressed the O. “Why don’t you eat a velociraptor? You would be doing a public service and besides, they’re thick. They’ve got to be easier to find that a possum.”

  “Opossum,” corrected the dragon.

  “Don’t get cheeky. Now answer the question.”

  “More warm blood.”

  “That’s kind of disgusting.”

  Bessemer didn’t reply. He had already closed his eyes and dozed off. After a minute, Senta did too. But she woke up sometime later. It was the middle of the night. The room was dark, and while the stove had stopped giving off warmth, half of her was sweating and the other half of her felt frozen through.

  “Get off, you,” she said gruffly, as she half shoved the body of the dragon off of her and half slid herself out from under it.