Miss Baxter turned back, and Simon looked away when he saw her concern. “Allow me!” he said, plastering on a large smile as he sauntered over to unsling one of the two saddlebags. “We don’t want to camp on the road in case more wizards come looking, but we can certainly find a glade close by.” He wondered about their companions. Dashing would know they had come by, surely, when he saw the donkey missing. But how could they ensure they’d know where to look?
“I don’t suppose you have some sort of hocus pocus what-not that could alert our friends if they come scouting for us?” It was hard to look at her without feeling like a fool. Simon hated that.
“Simon…”
Mr. Todd placed the gun in a saddlebag, glad to be rid of it as well as the added burden of carrying something corporeal. He patted old Salvador on the head, forgetting he was a ghost, surprised as an afterthought when his hand didn’t go through him. Miss Baxter paused in her address as he unhitched the bags and flung them over his shoulder.
“I should be able to conjure something,” she said.
Simon nodded. “Cheerio then! I’ll get to work on building the tent.”
She smiled back, turning as she went to work, weaving some bit of Spellcraft.
The tent was only terribly hard to construct. Mr. Dashing had thought only to pack the largest of them all, which meant more than one person was really needed to complete the task. Bendy poles all askew with minimal light meant that it was more task than Simon Todd was capable of. He could have made a fire of course, but he was very concerned about being followed by the wrong sort of individuals. So, when Miss Baxter returned from casting her wizardry, Simon had resorted to laying half of the tent over a rather large branch and smoothing out the other on the ground to ensure their sleeping blankets did not get wet.
“There’s some food if you’re hungry,” he said, the light of the moon spilling through the forest canopy just enough they weren’t in complete darkness.
Miss Baxter was holding her crook horizontally in both hands. She looked pale, tired. “I can stay up and take first watch,” he offered, dusting himself off as he drug himself to his legs.
Penelope shook her head. “There is no need. It will be morning soon, so I placed a ward around us. No one except our allies should be able to locate our presence.” She gestured to Simon’s blanket, noticing the bundle of items separating his from hers. “We both need to rest.” She sat down, began picking at the serving of dried fruits and jerked meat left over from their travels. A nice bowl of Simon’s stew would have been nice, she thought, but understood his reluctance to build a fire.
“I’m sorry, Simon.”
Mr. Todd, who was in the process of sitting down, looked over. He paused, feeling awkward and not entirely sure of what she was referring to. “No need!” he replied, deciding it was best not to inquire. “All we need is a good night’s rest and then on the morrow we can head out to find our companions.” He grabbed at a fist full of dried apricots, and groaned inwardly when his hand went through them. He didn’t really feel that hungry anyway, he thought.
“I do care for you, Mr. Todd.”
Simon sobered, pressing his lips together as he carefully examined the stitching on his shoes.
“I really do but…” Miss Baxter placed her crook beside her, running her hands through her hair.
Simon could see her blonde locks unfurl in his periphery. It took all he had not to turn his head and admire them.
“It’s alright, Miss Baxter,” he said, nodding. “I understand.” Absently he brushed his hand through the few blades of grass poking up along the edge of his makeshift bed. “As Fae might say, it’s just not in the cards for you.” He forced a smile and realized he missed Miss Hershal. In all the kerfuffle with Grimguild, Simon felt guilty for not thinking of her, or Jane Darcy, more often. They were okay, he thought. Mr. Dashing surely saved them.
“It’s not that.” Miss Baxter regarded the trees, noticing the faint outline of birches in the distance. “I’ve lost so much, my family, the University.”
Simon turned to face her direction. “You’ve got your father still.”
He was taken off guard when she saw her bite her lip to keep it from trembling.
“My father died a while ago.”
Simon sat up straight, glaring at her with concern as he tried to recall Mr. Jeremy Baxter from before he left Darlington. Why, he had been the same old cob as ever, saying hardly a word as he went about his tasks.
“How can that be?”
She looked up at him again, her expression obviously sympathetic to Mr. Todd’s confusion. “He died a little while after my mother disappeared,” she said, her voice soft. “It really took a toll on him. Mom and Dad loved each other very much.”
“But I saw him before we left.”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to live alone. I didn’t want to think Grimguild took away my entire family and left me with nothing.”
Simon frowned, watching as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“He’s dead. His soul is with Mom, I’m sure but…” She looked over at him with glassy eyes. “At the time I knew enough magic to keep a part of him with me, in a state of repose, and I did it.” She sniffed. “I just didn’t want to lose everything.”
Simon felt his heart break again on her behalf. He moved around the small bundles beside her. “I’m sorry.” He tried to take her by the shoulders, to draw her to him as she began to weep. When his hands faded through her, Simon thought he’d rather die than be unable to comfort her. He gritted his teeth, exhausted as he tried to force his body to comply. Watching her helplessly, Simon moved as close as he was able and hovered his arms over her as his knees merged into the skirts of her gown. “It’s alright, Miss Baxter. I’m sorry,” he repeated, clasping his hands around her, unable to feel her but trying to hold her anyway.
“I’m not a monster, Simon. I just don’t want to be alone.”
He closed his eyes, listening to her speak. For a moment as he ran a hand over the back of her head he thought he felt the brush of her hair. He wanted to scream, feeling useless.
“You’re not alone, and you were never a monster,” he promised, pulling away to try and regard her. “Dick, Jane, Fae, and certainly I, will always be here to help you, no matter what.” Friend or not, he wouldn’t abandon her.
She forced a smile, looking up. “I know you will, Mr. Todd.”
And Simon was surprised when she was able to touch him with her skeleton arm. He took it, glad to be able to hold her, unfazed by the curse Mortimer had left. “Good.” He smiled. “Now get some sleep.” He kissed her hand, placing it back into her lap as he left to return to his blanket. Lucifer was already there. He frowned, but scooted in next to the dog anyway.
“I’ll be right here!” He chuckled, laying down on his makeshift bed and sticking his right arm right through the bundles to wave at her. “Just on the other side of the pots and pans and sacks of grain!” It warmed his heart when he heard her laugh.
“Good morning, Mr. Todd,” she said, leaning back and coiling up under her blanket. Simon folded his hands over his belly, looking up at the already brightening pre-dawn sky.
“Sleep well, Penelope,” he said, shutting his eyes.
Chapter 30
No Time To Procaffeinate Mr. Todd!
Simon woke to the sunshine beaming though his face and dappling the ground from the lit canopy of Morningwood. Narrowing his eyes against the light, of what was probably mid-day to afternoon, the tired Frelish fop sat up. Miss Baxter was tossing bundles over Salvador’s backside while Lucifer sat at her side with his tongue dumbly lolling out its gob.
“Good afternoon,” she said brightly, clapping her hands together.
Simon noticed the young woman had since changed her attire, and was wearing a blue gown with tan corset and teal embroidery around the hemline. As she walked to a nearby tree to retrieve her crook, Simon also noticed her right arm was gloved and completely covered to hide its transformation.
“Mor…afternoon,” Simon mumbled, sitting up and brushing himself off. “You’re up rather early.” He pulled his watch from his pocket and squinted when the light went through it as well. It was twelve-forty-five and a bright sunny day. Simon Todd thought their friends would have contacted them by now.
“I think we ought to head back to Fallfield,” Miss Baxter explained as Simon looked at her curiously, shooing away the dog as it bounded forward with its one robotic leg.
“Shouldn’t we avoid Fallfield like you suggested? Surely Grimguild will be out looking for us.” Unless they had their companions and were waiting to send them a rather nasty missive demanding they both return in order to rescue them.
“Yes.” Miss Baxter patted her old donkey on the nose before scratching beneath its chin. “But I think it would be better if we could acquisition a ride to Ebonguard upon a dirigible.” She turned, her pink lips forming a bow as she smiled. “Mages and sorcerers will be less likely to molest us while in the air, and there is also less opportunity to get lost.”
Simon nodded before looking down at his hands. He wondered if he’d be able to stand on a zeppelin now or if he’s go straight though.
“Your Mortimer seems to have worsened my condition,” he said, brushing his hand past a tree trunk and watching as it went through. “It takes a lot more energy to pull myself together these days.” He wasn’t translucent, but he was certainly feeling rather insubstantial. Miss Baxter seemed to sense his train of thought and moved towards him, waving her hand through one shoulder and tapping him solidly with the other.
“You should be fine,” she said. “It’s all a bit wonky how ghosts work, but if the dirigible is large enough it will act as an anchor for your body and you shouldn’t go through.”
Mr. Todd frowned. “How is it that you can touch me?”
Penelope smiled, lifting up her gloved hand and wigging her fingers. “Well, the glove isn’t touching you, but the bones concealed beneath certainly are.”
Simon was a bit surprised that she didn’t seem fazed by the deathly transformation.
“My arm was touched by Death, so I suppose you could say that it is almost in the same condition as you are.” She folded her arms across her front. “Similarly, if the aircraft proves to be an inadequate anchor, you could always ride upon Salvador.”
“What? Because he’s dead?” Mr. Todd inquired. Miss Baxter shook her head.
“Well yes, but not quite.” She turned, going to the old donkey and taking him by the reins. “You wouldn’t know it by looking at him but he had quite the life.”
Simon cocked his head to the side.
“He used to belong to Mortimer himself back in the day, back when Morty liked to gallivant around with the other four horsemen for a bit of fun.”
“Mortimer Grim?” Simon was incredulous. “He rode an ass?” He felt like Miss Baxter was trying to pull his leg, but the young shepherdess looked serious.
“Honestly!” She laughed. “He didn’t always look like this. Salvador’s quite old.” She patted at the creature affectionately and for a moment Simon felt transported, away from all the mess this little adventure had hurdled them into, back to Darlington, in the plains lands, at her farm, listening to the cows whish their tails as she went about her chores.
“So, if you need to, Salvador will be able to carry you.”
“That’s…certainly good to know.” Simon folded his arms, not sure how he felt being so similar to an undead beast of burden formerly belonging to the Grim Reaper. Finding himself staring at the ground a moment, he looked up. “What about the others?” he asked, standing straight. “Are we hoping to meet them there?”
Penelope was quiet a moment, pursing her lips as she mulled over the issue. “Mr. Dashing’s no fool. He knows that Fallfield is a hub for Grimguild mages.”
“We can’t even be sure they escaped. Fae, Molly, Jane, Molly’s sister, Sally,” Simon shook his head. “They were all holed up in there when I left.” He turned. “Oh lords, it’s my fault! I should have stayed and helped. I mean,” he held up his hands, “not that I should have left you by yourself but I…” He sighed.
“It’s alright, Simon.” Penelope smiled, looking down and twirling a loose strand of hair back in place behind her bonnet. “But I think Dick will know that we’ve no other choice.” She looked behind her towards the direction of Fallfield. “If he’s managed to get everyone out, if Salvador and all our supplies are here, they will have to return to the town regardless, especially if they’ve picked up more people.”
“Mr. Darcy could probably go about relatively unnoticed.”
Miss Baxter nodded. “As could you, Mr. Todd.” She pressed a finger to her lip. “But I think it would be wise to acquire a means of escape first. Just in case things go awry and we have to vacate in a hurry.”
Simon agreed. “Let’s go to the airfields first. There should be few people there and anyone coming in from Grimguild will be easy to avoid,” he said. “If we can secure a room upon a zeppelin you may wait for me while I search the town.”
“That sounds perfect, Simon.” Her smile brightened her face and Simon flushed, turning to scratch his head.
“Well, no time like the present then,” he suggested, walking towards Salvador and attempting to grab the reins.
Miss Baxter grinned somewhat sheepishly when his hand faded through them. “Unfortunately leather is not as everlasting as the undead,” she explained.
Simon sighed, but smiled despite himself. “Can’t be helped, I suppose.”
Miss Baxter walked up next to him, taking the reins loosely as she went and calling to Lucifer who bounded cheerfully behind them. “Cheer up, Mr. Todd,” she said, grabbing his arm as they began to walk forward with Salvador in tow. “It’s a wonderful day, after all.”
Simon had to agree that it was, and though he was dangerously close to falling into a pit of despair and self-loathing, walking arm in arm with Miss Baxter was preferably more enjoyable than feeling sorry for himself.
She was wearing that lovely choker, he observed. It was the one he remembered her wearing the day she asked for his company in Darlington.
Simon coughed, looking away. Miss Baxter, crook in one arm, Simon wrapped in the other, picked her way through the brambles of Morningwood, not glancing up when a dark cloud eclipsed the sky one moment and was seemingly gone the very next.
They walked arm in arm for as long as they were able. As they began to climb up the rockier slopes leading to the shorn slopes of the Fallfield mountain however, the couple separated, forming a single file. Miss Baxter, holding her skirts up to prevent a nasty tumble, took the lead with Simon pulling Salvador. Lucifer, hanging around like a bad cough, skirted occasionally underfoot before disappearing to root around in the alders.
“Do you need to rest?” she asked, a few beads of sweat sparkling on her brow.
Simon huffed, feeling already fatigued at having been corporeal for so long. “No,” he called, wheezing in a breath as he forced the damned donkey forward. The stupid thing seemed determined to make half an effort.
“If you’re tired you can just ride him.”
Simon waved away her suggestion. He could only imagine the gibes of young men watching as he waltzed into a military dirigible hangar, seated upon an ass with a young lady wearing a corset leading him.
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, pulling at the rope and almost stumbling backwards when the jackass unexpectedly acquiesced. “Death’s mount, indeed!” he whispered. “Mortimer Grim probably died and became the Reaper waiting for you to anything but shamble forward.” But the creature only stared, a fly crawling about its nose and into its left nostril.
Miss Baxter called back, “We’re almost there!”
Simon grimaced, before he resumed his task of climbing.
It took another half hour perhaps for them to reach the crest of the mountain, and as it levelled off, Simon and Penelope both could see the bobbing forms of the dirigibles floating
amidst the airfields. The red Cardinal was there as well, phoenix wings sprouting from the sides of the large passenger ship. Simon felt less enthralled by it than before, wondering if the marvel of events at Grimguild had spoiled it for him.
As they began to move downward however, towards the platform carved into the face of the mountain, Mr. Todd’s worry was torn asunder as he observed the airship up close. It looked like a great red pepper, large like the phoenix that inspired its design, sleek like a bullet with an ornate ship attached below. At the prow, the blade-like bill of the phoenix would cut through cloud and zealous winds like it were nothing but a babe’s slight exhalation. Simon knew, could see it in his mind. How thrilling it would be to ride upon it to Ebonguard and greet the capital and E-DAC zeppelins side by side in the air from that prow.
How very fun it would be indeed. Also, how horribly expensive.
“Simon!”
Mr. Todd was an accountant. He was a hearty mathematician who was realistic enough to understand he didn’t fit into the paygrade of individuals that enjoyed a ride on the Cardinal. It was fine. He understood. Looking at it would have to be enough.
“Mr. Dashing!”
Simon furrowed his brow as Miss Baxter shouted, turning completely and looking past him towards the upward slope of the mountainside. Simon had been so involved in his own thoughts he hadn’t heard his name being called from over the mountain crest.
Turning with a rather inquisitive look upon his face, Mr. Todd was quite taken aback as he watched Dick Dashing puttering down the hill, sans coat with a bristled moustache, struggling to keep his footing over loose dirt.
“Dashing?” The young gunslinger looked a bit worse for wear. His eyes were bruised and cuts along his jawline were red and crusted with already hardening scabs. The yellowed cotton shirt he wore was black in some areas, as though rubbed by cinders. It was torn as well. His pistol was still strapped to his hip however, and Simon was glad he had managed to keep hold of the other one.
The Curious Case of Simon Todd Page 32
