Theft of Magic_The Revelations of Oriceran

by Martha Carr

  “Probably while waiting for his wife.”

  Behind the crowd Mara, wearing a floppy hat pulled down over her ears and large sunglasses moved quickly down the aisle, closely following the path of the troll. She pulled down her sunglasses and gave the troll a wink as he ran right over her shoe on the way to the backyard sheds. Blake came chugging by seconds later sputtering about a furry alien as Mara stepped back to give him room.

  “Oh my, are you okay?” she said loudly, looking around at the crowd who were half amused and half standing back just in case. A row of phones were held up in the air as onlookers filmed the whole thing. “Perfect,” whispered Mara. “Part one is a success. Okay Yumfuck, part two is up to you and Eric.”

  The troll had escaped to an aluminum shed sliding in through a small opening near the bottom. He took his time crawling in, shaking his rear end as much as he could, keeping an eye out for the sounds of Blake Johnson tripping over furniture trying to get to the troll. Blake had the presence of mind to film the small dancing furry butt just as it disappeared into the shed.

  “At last! You’ve finally made a mistake!” Blake ran into the shed, slamming the door behind him as he came face to face with Yumfuck Tiberius Troll.

  Eric saw the door shut and fumbled with the brown bag in his hands, letting it slide out of his hands as marbles rolled out across the floor blocking everyone’s path. “Well a good goddamn,” sputtered Eric, looking to all the world as if he was frustrated at himself. He got down on his hands and knees and started scooping marbles toward the bag but only managed to spread them out further sending them rolling in every direction. The two guards who had been following Blake came as close as they could but stopped at the edge of the spill.

  The tall man walked back by with a look of surprise as his wife said, “Look at that Gene! He really did lose his marbles.”

  “Thirty-five years with you and still a surprise every day.”

  The guards tried to take a step forward as the marbles hit their shoes and they’d take a step back. “You need to clean this up,” one of them said sternly, his hands on his hips to let everyone know he meant what he said even if he wasn’t moving.

  “Maybe a broom would help.” Eric was doing his best to sound helpful. “Got ‘em for my indoor plants. Weren’t cheap, you know. Need to get them all back in the bag or the wife will have a fit.” With every sweep of his arm the rolling marbles let out a loud clacking sound, drowning out most of what was coming from the shed.

  Toni took her cue and took a look around to make sure everyone was watching the marble spill as she gave a small wave to her wand and whispered, “Louder please.” Barry Manilow’s voice crooning Copacabana poured out of every speaker in the ceiling further covering any other sound.

  Inside the dim light of the shed Blake feverishly held up his camera, licking his dry lips as he collected himself quickly, drying his hands on the front of his pants. At the last moment he realized he was soaking wet from head to toe and gave out a giggle. “All worth it… This is Blake Johnson, reporting on the sighting of an alien or tiny Bigfoot…”

  “Or small Cheetos…” cackled the troll as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out an orange fart that slowly rose toward the ceiling.

  Blake tried to move his phone around to capture the cloud. “… that has been sighted all over Austin, Texas. Oh man, what is that smell?” He tried breathing through his mouth as he kept talking, his words spilling out. He held the phone as close to his mouth again to be sure he could be heard over the loud music playing outside of the shed. “I’ve tracked him to the Home and Garden Show at the Palmer Center and have successfully trapped… Yaaaaaa!”

  Blake let out a high-pitched squeal as the troll cackled again and grew till he was towering over Blake, hitting the tin roof with a thud. He stood over Blake, hunched against the roof, his hot breath pouring into the reporter’s face as he smiled wide. His once tiny sharp teeth were now the only thing Blake could focus on as his phone pressed up against the soft, wiry hair of the troll.

  “Homina, homina, homina, homina…” Blake babbled loudly trying to find the words to yell for help. “Don’t eat me, please.” It was all he could think to say.

  The troll snorted and shrunk back down to the size of a small child, gently taking Blake by the hand as he whispered to him, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re not a half bad reporter but you could work on being a better human being. Good stories are going to come your way but ask yourself first if every one of them needs to be written and always do your best to err on the side of doing no harm.” Yumfuck patted his hand. “You might even manage to do a little good. Now, fair warning, no one is going to believe you on this one. Not yet, anyway. Let it go or live with the consequences.”

  Blake shook his head hard. “You’re talking to me. Wait! Wait!” He pulled his hand away from the tiny troll. “It’s the truth. I have to tell the public. It wouldn’t be right to hide it. Shit, I’m arguing with an alien. Is my phone still recording. Sweet! It is!”

  “Not always about right or wrong. Nature doesn’t know right or wrong, only consequences. I have to be going but remember what I said. Look for where you can add to the common good. That’ll never steer you wrong.” The troll ran to the same hole he had used to get in the shed and shook his furry hind parts at Blake while looking over his shoulder and throwing him a raspberry. At the last moment he threw back his head and let out one last cackle. Yumfuck slid through the opening making sure to stay close to the nearby potted plants, shimmying along a wall. He got to the end of the wall and heard a familiar voice.

  “Hagan!” The troll let out a chirp and a trill.

  Hagan almost dropped the soft pretzel in his hand as he quickly took a look around to see who else might be watching.

  “How in hell do you show up everywhere?” Hagan crouched down, pretending to tie his shoe.

  “Those are Velcro, dude,” chirped the troll.

  “Oh, like you know what Velcro is now. Great. Should I ask what you’re doing here? I’m guessing all that commotion had something to do with you.”

  “A little,” chirped the troll. “I’m fixing our little problem.” The troll held his finger up to the side of his nose with a smile showing his tiny pointed teeth. “Things can go back to normal.”

  “Can you let me in on what normal would look like since magic got here?” Hagan held up his hands, waggling his fingers.

  The troll let out a cackle and scrambled into Hagan’s hand, taking a bite of his pretzel. “Yum….”

  “I’ve taken off a few pounds lately and I swear it’s from all the food I’ve shared with you.” Hagan stood up, brushing off the knees of his jeans and looked up the aisle. “Can’t keep you with me today, little buddy. Rose is along for this trip. These shows are her crack and we’re busy planning her next big garden.” Hagan rolled his eyes. “Ever since Leira did that winter bloomfest for her she’s been on a kick to do it again. She thinks she has a green thumb or something about the Texas dirt.”

  “Sometimes magic will bite you in the ass,” cackled the troll, as he took another bite of the warm salty pretzel.

  “Exactly. Hey, hey, slow down. I’ll give you more if you stop licking the pretzel. Otherwise I guess I’ll give you the whole thing.”

  “I think you have a friend of mine.” Mara smiled and held out her hand. “Thanks for the assist.”

  “So, you’re not working alone on this one. So tempted to ask…” Hagan held out the troll who was clinging to the pretzel. “Fine, it’s yours. I’ll get another.”

  “Got you.” Mara scooped him up and put him in her pocket. “Pardon me a moment. Have to tidy up.” She pulled in enough energy, her eyes aglow and sent all the marbles rolling toward Eric till they came to a stop in a pile near his bag.

  Hagan sputtered in disbelief, patting the top of his head. “What the…”

  Eric looked up at the surprised guards. “Must be a foundation issue. Might want to check into that.” He opened the bag a
nd shoveled the marbles into it with a sweep of his arm, getting to his feet and waving to the crowd. There was even a smattering of applause as he took a short bow.

  “Okay, nothing to see here,” said a relieved guard. He nudged the other guard, tapping him on the arm. “We should find that nut who was breaking apart the displays before anything else happens. What a day!”

  “And you said this would be an easy gig. No problem, Joe. Walk around a bunch of flowers for eight hours, Joe…”

  Toni and Jim came to the end of the aisle, waiting patiently for Eric who was walking toward them, the bag safely tucked under his arm. He was whistling as he walked, a smile on his face. “You look pretty pleased with yourself,” said Toni.

  “Been awhile since I’ve gotten to do a caper of any kind.”

  “You think the Silver Griffins will mind that we used a little bit of magic to cause a little mayhem?”

  “Definitely. Fortunately for us they have more important things to worry about these days. Been hearing plenty of rumors about all the trouble with artifacts. Even weird stuff I don’t know if I want to believe. Hijinks at a local home and garden show won’t rate even a flyover in our direction.”

  “Nice. Flyover. Old school with the whole broom thing.”

  “Thought you’d like that. How’d that one get started anyway?”

  “Probably some Witch levitating holding onto a broom. Who knows? Let’s go get Elmer and head out for something to eat. Beer’s on me.”

  Hagan spotted the group and shook his head. “I don’t know what this adds up to but it looks like a regular Ocean’s Four plus a troll kind of operation.”

  The door to the aluminum shed shook as Blake nervously pried it open, his legs shaking as he came out into the bright light.

  “There he is!” shouted one of the guards, quickly bustling over and taking Blake by the arm. “Hey, look at this. He has a press badge!”

  The guards each took Blake by an arm and marched him toward the offices as Blake babbled about a talking troll. “A talking doll, you don’t say.”

  Hagan’s eyes grew wider. “Isn’t that the reporter…” He put his hands up in protest. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know this one. I think I see a loaded down dolly being pushed in my direction. That’s my signal to go. Rose has managed to exhaust our savings at last.”

  “We should leave too. Look, I found some moss we can put in a pot for you at home. Nicer place to sleep than in a shoebox wrapped in underwear.”

  The troll shrugged. “Why not both?” he chirped.

  “You’re a weird little dude, but I get that. I come from a long line of women who do things with their own kind of style while kicking a little bit of ass. Leira gets that from our side of the family.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Turner Underwood stood at the entrance to the executive airport building dressed in his favorite dark cashmere coat and black homburg squarely on his head. The mother of pearl cufflinks neatly matched the tie pin in his blue silk tie. “Makes me look a little like Churchill, don’t you think? One of the finest Gnomes I ever had the pleasure of knowing.” He leaned on his favorite cane with a silver robin as the handle.

  “You knew Churchill? Even I know who that is.” Correk looked incredulous. He was dressed in his old boots from Oriceran that went over his knees and his long tunic. The area was mostly empty except for a few travelers waiting for their planes to be ready.

  “I’ve been the Fixer for a long time now. Things come up that required my attention. Those years were particularly busy. Could have used someone like you back then but rules are rules. One Fixer at a time and you were somewhere on Oriceran probably playing a rousing game of Lutea ball.”

  “What am I right now if I’m not some kind of Fixer.”

  “An ordinary Light Elf in training. Were you hoping for a better title? How about Chief Bottle Washer? Keep your humility close at hand, you’re going to need it.” He clapped Correk hard on the shoulder. “I won’t be gone long but till I get back you need to stay close to Leira. Keep her magic in check,” he said sternly, his furry brows knit together as he stared into Correk’s eyes, his chin tucked down on his chest. “There will also be times that I will send you on short missions to help someone else in the magical community and I will stay here to be close to Leira.”

  Correk’s face grew darker but the Fixer cut him off before he could protest.

  “You must start to learn your new role and you can’t learn the entire scope of it by standing next to Leira Berens. Granted, she is a unique case. Once in an Elf lifetime but there are other things that must be tended to as well. Spells to learn, potions to make, energy to channel. And that’s just the beginning. There are worlds under this world teeming with magical folk. All of them fall under your purview and when you are exactly what’s called for, you’ll start to sense it and need to go.” The Fixer held up his hand. “And I will be here to guide and protect Leira even if that young woman is determined to fight her own battles. Although, I must say she has come a long way in asking for help.”

  “What about Jackson and his meddling?”

  Turner smiled, the dimples in his cheeks growing deeper. “He is a necessary element who will fulfill some of his fatherly duties at last, if only to annoy you.”

  Correk shook his head in protest, his blues eyes flashing with anger, which only caused Turner to put back his head and laugh, one hand on top of his impressive black hat. “I’m really looking forward to this stewardship of your learning. Has so many damn flavors to it.” The smile dropped from his face as he lowered his voice. “But do not let emotions get the better of you, Elf, in any direction. Anger or affection. Look for balance in all things and you will have a better chance at keeping everyone in one piece and on this side of the veil. Remember there are two hurdles here, neither of them are really enemies.”

  “I wouldn’t call the Dark Mist neutral…”

  “And yet in some ways it is. It doesn’t think for itself. It’s fulfilling some dark, forgotten curse, I imagine…” He tapped his cane against the sidewalk. “It only knows to go toward extreme darkness and extreme light and gather both back into that damnable void. I don’t believe we know the real reason even yet. May we never find out, frankly.” A shudder passed through him and his eyes briefly glowed, startling Correk.

  “You’re afraid of the Dark Mist. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you afraid of anything.”

  “Only a foolish Elf is not afraid of anything. Stay very aware and alert, Correk.”

  “Is the Light neutral as well?”

  “Ah, the Light. That one is even more confusing. It fills Leira with an overwhelming sense of joy and peace. Who wouldn’t call that good? And yet, it asks everything of her. To join with it and become one till she disappears from this plane all together. Beyond that I don’t know what that means. But I don’t wish that for Leira even if I’m pulling her away from what the humans would call heaven. Let it wait a few more hundred years at least for her. Selfish of me, probably.”

  He saw the pain flash across Correk’s face and his expression softened. “The Light serves a purpose but in the extreme it becomes the problem. Some amount of grounding is required. Jackson may prove very useful in that area. He’s a Jaspar Elf after all and he may know more than at least you give him credit for.”

  “He looks like he’s homeless and his magic ran out a long time ago.”

  The Fixer gave a low chortle. “That’s a lifestyle choice. It happens to Elves sometimes. We go big in whatever we do. I have to go but I’ll be back and it’ll be your turn. Don’t hover too much or she’ll refuse your help. Knowing Leira she’d lose you in a crowd. Don’t let that happen. I’ll be back soon. Till I get back keep everyone alive and in one piece. Your first assignment. Last two things I need to tell you and they must stay between us. I’m going to need your word on it.”

  Correk nodded but Turner pressed his lips together in frustration. “Use your words, Correk,” he said in a low ton
e.

  “Of course you have my word. I’ll tell no one.”

  “That includes Leira and even the troll.”

  “Everything with a beating heart.”

  “Good. The first is that I placed a tracking ball of light under the Mustang that will stay close to Leira in case she gives you the slip. Follow my energy trail and connect with me and you’ll be able to see where she is. The energy will find you if she’s in real danger. Don’t bother arguing about this. We both know she’s a damn good detective and if she senses you’re babysitting her, she’ll make a point of leaving you somewhere desolate just to prove a point and then go looking for trouble.”

  “She’s already done it once.”

  “Funny at any other time. God, I love that girl. The second is even more important and a long held secret among Fixers. If everything becomes a shit show, use this whistle.” He pulled a thin silver whistle the length of his palm out of his coat pocket and held it out to Correk. A fancy F was engraved on one side and on the other was an inscription. Fight with honor and to the end.

  “That’s the Oriceran battle cry.”

  “That was created by the first Fixer a very long time ago. Each Fixer pours a little of his magic into it that keeps it powered and ready to go. The same Fixer gave it only one purpose. To help a Fixer in training if things ever get to the point…”

  “Of a shit show.”

  “Yes, and not before. Not one moment before. Heed that warning.”

  Correk looked down at the whistle. “What happens if I use this too soon?” But when he looked up the Fixer was gone.

  “Hate it when he does that.” He clenched the whistle in his hand. “May I never have to use this damnable thing.” Even though I probably will.