by Drew Hayes
No one heard the rest of her speech, as a massive wolf appeared for a split second in the doorway, tackling the witch to the ground. While they couldn’t see exactly what happened next, there was a very audible crunch followed by the building suddenly coming to a peaceful halt. Together, the four bolted out the door, slamming it shut behind them before any of the fumes could escape. There was no telling what those would do if released, especially in a forest already coated with the witch’s magic.
Scarlett grinned as she saw the scene before them. “By the way, that is why my wolf gets a share of the gold.” Near the cabin, sitting as if he expected a treat, was Peter. And next to his paws was the roughly chewed-off head of the witch. Not a clean kill, true, but people probably wouldn’t complain about a messy head. They’d just be glad to have their friends and family back. The ones that were still alive, anyway.
“Do you smell smoke?” Marie asked. She glanced back to find that emerald flames had appeared at the edges of the house, and everyone quickly skirted away as the whole cabin began to burn in earnest. Whether it was caused by all the broken potions or aided by them, the flames made quick work of the home, the whole thing turning into an inferno in mere moments.
“Dammit all to the lowest kingdoms.” For the first time that day, Jack looked as though her were in pain. His face pinched and his smile took on a sad, almost ironic taint. “Her gold was in the chimney, remember? We just lit up our own payday.”
“Maybe some will survive,” Frank said. “Precious metals still have value, even if melted out of coin shape.”
The chimney in question began to wobble, slowly tumbling into the burning cabin. The flames got brighter and hotter, burning so greatly that everyone had to take a few steps back. Above them, they noticed for the first time that the people of the village were crawling out of their branch cages, the magic binding them now undone.
“Great. All of this for nothing.” Jack slumped to the ground and glanced up to the people freeing themselves, weeping with joy and relief at their second chance at life. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Well now, looks like we arrived a little late to this party.” From the edge of the forest, two new figures stepped into view. They were clearly related, siblings if not fraternal twins, both wearing leather armor with blades on their hips. “Jack, did you bungle things again?”
Slowly, like a phoenix from the ashes, Jack rose to his feet, grin blazing as he turned to new intruders. “Hans. Greta. What an unexpected pleasure to see you both.”
“Same to you, Jack,” Greta replied. With a quick motion she drew her sword, pointing it in his direction. “We always love it when you save us some trouble. Now then, why don’t you toss over the witch’s head and whatever gold you took from the cabin like a good boy? If you’re quick about it, we won’t even stab any of your friends this time.”
Jack’s smile was so big it threatened to split his face; the grin was well past merely dancing with madness. “My, that is some fancy equipment you’ve got there. And are those coin pouches as well? Quite full ones at that. Frank, what’s the morality of taking from someone who has stolen from you in the past?”
“A justified reallocation of assets,” Frank replied. His hands were already on his daggers, quite aware of where this was going. “Especially if they are trying to steal from you once more.”
“I thought so. Marie and Scarlett, you take Greta, Frank and I will handle Hans.” Jack’s eyes darted to Peter, who was watching the whole situation unfold with a bloody lip curled up, bearing its teeth. “Peter, buddy, all you have to do to get your cut is not let anyone run away.”
“Five against two? That’s not much of a fair fight.” Hans was starting to backpedal, pulling out both his swords even as he scanned for a route of escape.
“You’re the ones who just tried to rob us. This is self-defense at the worst, justice at the best. Besides, no fight is truly fair.” Jack drew his sword for the second time that day, the gleaming blade looking almost green as it reflected the light of the burning cabin. “You’re either strong enough to survive, or you’re not. The rest is just excuses and whining.”
* * *
Splitting the gold from Hans and Greta’s equipment in five different portions meant no one got a lot of pay for the day’s work, but they did all have the satisfaction of a job well done. Not to mention the satisfaction of leaving those jerks stripped to their skivvies and tied up in the forest. They would probably survive, if they were lucky, though Jack hoped they would think twice before trying to rob someone again, especially if that someone was him.
The town held a grand celebration over the witch’s defeat, cheering all who were returned to them while quietly mourning the ones who were lost. Neither the Bastard Champions nor Scarlett took part in the festivities much; the former were busy hunting for clues about their mystery rider while Scarlett went into the woods to talk with her wolf. By the morning, when most of the town’s folk had drunk themselves into a heavy sleep, four figures were at the stables, saddling their horses. Off in the woods, just barely out of sight, one could, if they looked carefully, spot a large wolf waiting.
“Where are you off to now?” Scarlett asked, hefting herself into her saddle with smooth grace. “More witches to kill?”
“I hope not, the pay for this one was awful.” Jack mounted his own horse with ease, keeping a watchful eye on Frank in case his steed decided this was a morning it would be problematic. “We didn’t find any sightings of our target here, so we might have lost him, or the people might have been too lost in witch-fever to notice one more stranger in town. We’ll keep heading north to see if we can find any more leads. If we don’t then we’ll come back south in case we missed our man somewhere.”
“Be careful if you’re heading north,” Scarlett warned. “There are rumors that the Blue Fairy made an appearance in the town of Collodi, and I know how well you get along with fairies.”
Jack’s whole body stiffened, and Marie let out an involuntary growl. “The Blue Fairy? You’re sure about that?” he asked.
“No, it’s only a rumor as far as I know. Still, better to swing wide just in case, don’t you think?” Scarlett looked at the trio, noting with curiosity that they looked more interested than scared. “Or maybe not.”
Frank finally got atop his horse, and Marie followed suit. “We’ve got business to attend to with her,” Frank explained. “If she’s been in Collodi, that’s our next stop.”
“Be careful then. Fairies are dangerous enough, but the ones with names of color are on a level all their own. I rather liked you both; it would be a shame to hear you’d passed on,” Scarlett said.
“What about Jack?” Marie asked.
“Less of a shame, although I’m not worried about it. Nothing seems to kill Jack, even when it really ought to.” She turned to her old training partner and, perhaps, friend, before setting off. “By the way, what was that about a cricket? I’ve never seen someone goad you into striking like that before.”
“She didn’t mean an actual cricket. It’s nothing but a long story that none of us has time for.” Jack rode over and stuck out his hand, which Scarlett took in a firm grasp. “Ride well, fight fast, and live long.”
“To you as well. And may our paths cross again further down the road.”
With that, they parted, Scarlett giving a brief wave to the others before riding south out of town. Moments later, they heard a brief howl that they took to be a farewell from Peter. With nothing else to do, they pointed their own mounts north and began to ride.
“Any idea of what we’re in for?” Marie asked.
“No telling for sure. If the Blue Fairy came through a town then anything might be left in her wake.” Jack had a distant expression in his eyes, his vision clouded with far more than the simple road ahead of them. “We might find a town made of glass and light, or a smoking hole where a city used to be. That’s why we’re going after the Blue Fairy in the first place. Because all of them are powerful, but she’s the most un
predictable. If we’re lucky, that personality trait might just break in our favor. Or it could get us all killed.”
“The usual parameters for a job then.” They might have been imagining it, but Frank looked as though he was hiding a smirk along with that comment.
The Tale of the Stolen Delinquents
Monster. That was the only name they ever gave him. Even now, years later, it seemed almost nightly that Frank would dream of that first stormy evening, or some mentally constructed version filling in all the gaps he couldn’t remember quite right. To be fair, he had only just come to life moments prior, and his brain wasn’t yet as fully developed as it would become. Some details still stood out though. The stink of roasting flesh, the sound of thunder booming overhead, and the sight of his father looking down at him. So much pride shined in those crazed, brilliant eyes. Father looked at him, beaming, watching as his creation pulled against the restraints.
“It’s alive. Alive! We’ve done it, Igor. We’ve created life.”
“Nay, sir, I fear what we’ve created is naught but a monster.” The hunchback didn’t share Father’s enthusiasm. He never had, not really. In time, Frank would realize that he’d only played along because it was his job, not because he’d truly believed they would succeed.
“A monster?” Father tilted back his head and laughed, cackled really, neck twisted at an inhuman angle. This part, Frank was almost certain to be imagination over memory. His father had never been prone to such displays of mirth, even in his maddest of moments. “Perhaps you’re right. We’ve created a monster to tear down the false ideology of those who insist that life is more than an amalgam of scientific reactions. Our man here will be a monster to those who laughed at my ideas or tried to stone me for blasphemy. Yes, Igor, we have indeed created a monster.”
Father leaned down, examining him more closely. “A monster who is already in need of replacement parts. Seems the lightning overwhelmed and popped his right eye. We’ll have to get him a new one as soon as possible. I can’t very well have my boy greeting the world not looking his best. I’ve got such grand plans for him.”
Delicately, Father pressed his lips to Frank’s forehead, kissing his creation as if it truly was his own son. “So many plans for my wonderful monster.”
* * *
“It was hard at first. People thought I was a monster.” The young boy sitting before them looked perfectly mundane, from his rosy cheeks to the small scrapes on his knees that any lad would get from playing in the streets. There was no hint that he’d ever once been anything different, no outward sign of where he came from. But they’d asked all over town and gotten countless corroborating testimonies. There was no denying the truth of the situation: either the boy in front of them had once been a puppet, or the entire town was bewitched into believing he had been. From the Bastard Champions’ perspective, there was little difference between the two scenarios. Both pointed to the kind of power that only someone like the Blue Fairy could wield.
Gepetto, still eyeing them suspiciously, returned from the kitchen with tea poured in mismatched cups. He served one to each of them, blanching slightly when he caught sight of Frank’s hand, yet continuing to offer the cup all the same. It was a small gesture of respect, but one that didn’t go unnoticed.
Pinocchio accepted his own cup of tea with a grateful nod. “Over time, I started getting used to it. But I never stopped wanting to be a real boy. The Blue Fairy told me I’d have to work hard for it, and wow was she ever right. We got there though. Me and dad, together, we got there.” Pinocchio reached out and took his father’s hand, the simple act of kindness visibly filling the old man with joy. The bond between these two was powerful, forged in tribulation and tested through adversity. Frank felt a twinge of envy for this child who, at such a young age, had already gained so many of the things Frank wanted for himself.
“That’s what we came to talk with you about.” Jack took a polite sip of tea before setting it aside; he was never one to waste time on proper drinks. Anything less than ale or coffee was water, and if that was the case he preferred the real deal. “My friends and I have been looking for the Blue Fairy for a long time. We have some…issues of our own, the sorts of problems only one of the five fairies of the colors can solve.”
“I know.” Pinocchio squeezed Gepetto’s hand, the two of them both looking a tad more nervous. Something was off, and the trio all felt it.
Jack took his time responding, leaning forward slightly and working to ensure his tone was amiable. “I beg your pardon? Could you please explain what that means?”
“She told me you’d be coming,” Pinocchio replied. “Before she left, the Blue Fairy said that a man, woman, and person in a hooded robe would come visit me, asking about her. She even left me a message to pass on to them.”
There was a lot to unpack in that statement, not the least of which was that the Blue Fairy knew they were after her. It was always a risk, hunting someone with so much power. Between her connections and a place in the center of the Narrative’s will, the odds of getting discovered were always against them. To know for sure that she was aware of them changed things, though. Had they been led here? A trail of breadcrumbs left in their path to make sure they stayed close on her heels? And if so, what did she want? She might have some complex plan in store, or she might just be messing with them for fun. That was the trouble with the Blue Fairy; her unpredictable nature could cut for or against those who dealt with her.
While the revelation gave them all a moment of pause, Jack soon recovered. “We are eager to hear her words. It has been a long journey, and this is a welcome surprise.”
Pinocchio opened his mouth, but Gepetto cleared his throat loudly. The former puppet looked at his father uncertainly, then nodded slowly. “Right. I almost forgot, I’m supposed to test you first.”
“Test us?” Marie’s brow creased, her annoyance slipping through. It was hard to blame her; this was the closest they’d ever been only to find another hurdle before them. “What does that mean?”
“She said that the ones her message was for were brave, smart, and fearless. That I shouldn’t give her words to just any who came asking, because as rumor spread many would come to me seeking her. So I was supposed to think of a test for the real people to prove themselves with. She…insisted.”
It was there, only for an instant, but unmistakable: a flash of fear in Pinocchio’s eyes. He knew that just by saying her name this much, the Blue Fairy was aware of the conversation, probably listening in. Much as he was grateful to her, perhaps even loved her for what she’d given him, part of Pinocchio was human enough to understand the terror of dealing with beings of such power. It complicated matters greatly, because there was no amount of careful words or convincing that would overcome such a fear. If they wanted that message, they’d have to pass the test.
“Very well then, if we must prove ourselves then we shall do just that,” Jack said. “Pray tell, what trial have you chosen for us? Are we to find a tree magical enough to bear you a sibling, or perhaps you wish us to return with a sack of gold for you and your father?”
“No. I don’t need any siblings, and we have more than enough as we are now.” Pinocchio paused, squeezing his father’s hand once more for strength. “Before I became a real boy, I had a friend named Chadwick. We were taken to a place called The Land of Toys, where children play all day long and never work. It seems like a good place, but it’s not. Eventually the children there all turn into donkeys, and the owner sells them off. I found my friend Chadwick at his end, worked to death in his short time as a donkey. I know…I know that you can’t find and save all of the children who have been turned, but I can’t stop thinking about them. Dreaming about them. While I couldn’t save Chadwick, I don’t want anyone else to suffer his fate. Your trial is to find The Land of Toys and shut it down for good. If there are any children there, please save them, too. Do that, and I will pass along the Blue Fairy’s message.”
A long, weary sigh
escaped Jack’s lips as his gaze darted briefly to Frank. There was no wiggle room on this. Even if the boy hadn’t asked for something so selfless, Frank probably wouldn’t budge on the demand anyway, not with innocents in the mix. Jack was keenly aware of how Frank felt about children in peril, and now that they knew someone was kidnapping and cursing them it was an issue they were going to have to deal with either way. At least their reward would help them on their hunt; that was a bright spot to focus on.
“That sounds truly terrible. Why don’t you tell us all about this Land of Toys and we’ll see what we can do about it. The location and owner would be an excellent place to start.”
* * *
“It’s not taking. Why isn’t it taking?” Igor pulled the eye out of its socket and tossed it into a bin, slipping a piece of cloth over the opening.
For Frank, the dreams of the early days were always fragmented, but this part stood out. It was a strange experience, having his flesh operated on even as he was aware of everything happening. They were trying to replace his lightning-damaged right eye again. Four eyes had been placed into his head already, connected to the nerves, yet failed to bring him any sight. Overhead, his father had opened his skull and was examining his brain.
“I think what we have here is an issue of degradation.” Father poked something in the monster’s skull and his left leg kicked slightly, narrowly missing Igor’s arm. “The lightning and our procedure were able to breathe life into these pieces of flesh, however not all of them were able to withstand it. The eye was one example, and I can see pieces of the brain that have atrophied as well. Our monster is working with basic motor function and not much more. The new pieces we’re stealing from graves have the same issue: degradation. Too much time and rot have worn them down.”
“Then what shall we do? Perhaps we can take off its head, repurpose the good parts, and try again?” Igor shifted slightly closer to an axe leaning against the wall, and the creature felt his lip curl involuntarily. The hunchback never liked him, never trusted him, and always seemed to be at the ready to scrap the project as a whole. Dimly, somewhere in his primitive mind, the monster had begun to understand that, eventually, one of them would have to go so the other could stay at Father’s side.
