by B. J. Smash
On the other arm was some type of Native American chief. This tattoo had some color and it really was a pretty piece of art. On the forearm was some type of fancy Celtic knot. On the back of his lower head, and down his neck there was a tattoo of the head of a tiger. I couldn’t tell what was under his tank top, but I knew he had more. To say the least, he was an interesting fellow. I noticed this morning he didn’t have an eye patch.
“William. I thought you wore an eye patch,” I said. I probably should have kept my mouth shut. This single statement caused a little spat between the two cousins.
“William! Where is your eye patch? You know damn well that you need to wear that patch if you want to correct the lazy eye! I promised your mam that I’d make you wear it. Now put it back on,” Tom said.
William turned to scowl at me.
“Sorry,” I mouthed.
“Tom! I like my eye patch. It makes me look a lot like a pirate. But I forgot to put it on this morning. Just CHILL out, Tom. Always bossing me…” William said.
Drumm gently took my hand and we were about to sneak off, when a trumpet sounded from behind us. It sounded like someone was killing a cow, and I jumped about a foot in the air. This made Drumm snicker. We turned to find Egbert Winemaker standing there. He was licking his lips, and smacking them together.
“Well, that isn’t going to work,” Egbert mumbled as he scowled at the trumpet in his hands. He continued to lick his lips. He then pursed them together, and blew hard causing them to vibrate. Spit flew everywhere, and he sounded like one of those party favor horns that I used to have at my birthday parties when I was in grade school. A few times, he sounded like someone with terrible gas.
Egbert was oblivious to everyone’s stares. He continued to prepare his lips for another blow on the horn. “That should do it,” he said.
Drumm’s body was shaking with laughter, even though he was trying to contain himself. He couldn’t. This caused me to laugh, and the more I tried to hold it in – the harder I laughed. Eventually, I found myself with tears in my eyes, and I leaned my head onto Drumm’s arm.
Finally, Egbert lifted the horn back up and blew into the mouthpiece. The sound was horrible, and it bellowed throughout the forest capturing everyone’s attention.
“Drat,” Egbert said. And then he noticed me and Drumm, and paused to scold us. “Oh, I am glad to see the two thieving scoundrel’s find my horn playing so funny.”
“No. I think it’s the lip exercises that they find entertaining,” William stated the obvious. “Sounds like me mam after she eats beans and hotdogs.”
Drumm cleared his throat, straightened up, and took some deep breaths. I did the same, and then inhaled several gulps of the fresh morning air.
“And to think…you two are Izadora’s apprentices,” Egbert scowled.
The crowd had gathered around him and when they heard him say Izadora’s name, a series of gasps washed over the crowd. It might have gained an iota of respect from a few people, but by the looks on most of their faces – they didn’t care for us at all. Not if we were associated with Izadora. After all, she was a fun spoiler most of the time. She had her rules, and you didn’t break those rules. I could tell that most of these people were rough, and at some point and time in their lives, had encountered Izadora.
“Izadora. Phooey!” someone said. They grunted loudly and growled. I searched around the crowd to see where the noise had come from. That was when I noticed the antlers from a large white deer. I couldn’t see the rider, but soon the crowd parted to let him pass, and there he was. Izadora’s old enemy: Ish. He glowered at us and his top lip curled up in a snarl. He reminded me of a mini version of Santa Claus with his puffy white beard, and gold buckled shoes.
Averting my eyes, I said to Drumm, “This is going to be a long, long race.”
“For sure,” he replied.
Ish settled in next to Egbert. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my head, but I ignored him.
The Dark Elf had joined us, but he stayed behind the crowd. This morning I could see how strong his arms were underneath his scrolling tattoos, and how thick his neck was. His eyes were almost black, and it was me and Drumm that he watched.
“There was an incident last night. And two of our racers,” Egbert pointed our way, “will be penalized. I will let the Fae, of course, determine the punishment.”
Oh man. I had forgotten that the Fae were inside Helsberg. I remember Izadora mentioning something about them. I wonder what penalty they’d give us. Perhaps, a delayed start?
“While we are on the subject. I’ll have you know that I will be talking to Izadora after this race. And I will inform her about your pixie-releasing party. She knows that is how I make my living,” Egbert ranted on.
Drumm raised a brow, “If you have any sense at all, you won’t bother Izadora. Not if you value the one functioning leg that you still have.”
Egbert jolted his head back in surprise. “I am not in the least bit afraid of Izadora,” he said, but his voice wavered.
Every time Izadora’s name was mentioned, Ish would growl. There was no doubt in my mind that he was just as bitter now, as he had been long ago.
Egbert changed the subject, and while he spoke, everyone observed Egbert’s one wooden peg leg. I heard someone say, “So, that’s how he got the wooden leg.”
Egbert ignored the comments and stares and said, “Continuing on. Now that I have all of your attention, I will explain what to expect. Soon, the disappearing town of Helsberg will make its appearance. I know that you are all anxious to get started, but the town is said to appear a few hours after sun-up.”
“It’s coming!” someone shouted.
An uproar of chatter filled the crowd. Farther out in the field, things started to change. The tall green grass began to fade and was replaced with a golden hue. This hue spread out as though unfolding, and soon it grew bigger and broader, expanding on and on. Soon, the field had flattened and the hills were gone. The trees disappeared and like a giant wave splashing to shore, a different color of grasses spread out under our feet. A brighter more vibrant color of green.
Drumm clasped my hand and drew me in next to him. He seemed nervous, and I glanced up to see his expression, only to find that his mouth was wide open; and then his eyes grew big. Curious as to what he was seeing, I followed his gaze down to the left. My own eyes flew open wide.
“Lo and behold. The town of Helsberg,” Egbert called out.
Far down and to the left of us, lay an old fashioned town that looked like something from the early 1800’s. Wooden structures were built on either side of the dirt road that ran down the center. An old fashioned barber shop stood at the entrance. It had a tan awning over the front window, and on the window in plain white letters it read, “BARBER SHOP.”
The building across from the barber shop, was a dress shop. Old timey dresses filled the window, and the sign above the door read, “Nancy’s dresses.” Beside the dress shop stood a saloon with rickety old swinging doors made of wood. I bet the owner of Nancy’s dresses didn’t like that too much.
Across from the saloon and next to the Barber shop, appeared to be some type of doctors office. I wonder how many times some drunkard mistakenly walked into Nancy’s instead of the saloon, and she pulled out a shot gun and sent him to the doctor’s office. Hmmm. I bet it’s happened at least once.
I couldn’t see any farther down, but I didn’t care at the moment. What happened next, fried my brain.
The townspeople appeared before our very eyes. Dozens of them. All dressed like they were in the 1800’s; because they actually were from the 1800’s! Men in breaches, white shirts and suspenders. Several of them wore newsboy caps. The women all wore long dresses. Some had ruffles on the bottoms, some were more plain and simple.
“Oh my,” I said.
“I think…they are surprised to see us,” Drumm said.
One of the men from the town said, “Not this again.” He sounded like he spoke through one of t
hose tin can telephones that my sister and I had made as kids.
The next thing that happened, surprised the heck out of me. Down through the long dirt road between the buildings, rode a procession of beings. Beings I am surely familiar with, and would recognize anywhere.
Tinkling bells could be heard. Bells that were braided into the horses mains. No dust came up from the road as they walked slowly toward us. Superlative beings rode atop the fancy horses, and they were highly decorated. The lady that led the party wore her black hair up, and strings of diamonds were braided into her hair and tied back in the bun. Her cheekbones were high and her skin, milky and taut. Her lips were red like Washington apples, and her shimmering blue eyes were shadowed in smoky grays. Her blue dress bedazzled the eyes as it glittered with diamonds. Real…diamonds. The Regal Folk had arrived, aka the Fae.
When I could finally peel my eyes from the lady, a man on a black horse come up from behind us and entered into the town. His timing was perfect, and I knew that somehow he must have a connection to the Fae beings in this town. As he passed by, I knew that we had met before. His name was Darvon. He had been the one responsible for holding my father captive for Izaill. He’d been the head of the riding party that Izadora had stopped at midnight on that night long ago. I would recognize him anywhere. Izadora had once described him as, “a pompous ass.”
He pulled his horse up next to the lady, and they rode together. He had the chiseled face of perfection, with all the smugness he could muster. His golden hair was tied at the nape, and he wore a respectable double-breasted, burgundy coat trimmed with black velvet. The buttons, I knew, were pure gold, and he also wore some type of rank pinned on the jacket. Brackets of pure gold.
Behind them rode some of the most gorgeous Fae beings I’d seen. All the woman had sparkling jewels embroidered into their dresses, and glossy long hair decorated with shells, jewels, feathers. A few of the females had velvet pieces braided into their gorgeous locks.
None of them looked happy. The Unseelie Fae never did. They always looked, “bothered.”
When they were upon us, Darvon spoke, “The queen.” He flung his hand around as if he were showing off an expensive car.
“The queen?” I whispered to Drumm.
“Yes, the queen of her region. Apparently she is the one who holds the race. And somehow Darvon is connected to this group,” Drumm said.
I had learned that there were seven Unseelie queens in different regions, and they were always trying to “out-queen” one another. But there was only one Seelie queen in the entire world.
Darvon noticed that Drumm and I were talking, and he observed us right away. He scowled first, and then a broad smile spilled out over his perfect face. He knew who we were, and I am sure he was delighted that we would now be at his mercy.
It didn’t take him long to speak about us. “Look my queen. We have just arrived, only to find Izadora’s cute little couple. Couple of dorks, but still. Are they not lovely?” he said.
“Oh how delightful! I shall truly enjoy watching those two suffer.” The queen waved a gloved hand at us.
Being my sarcastic self, I lifted a hand and waved back as if we were long lost friends.
“Where is Egbert? Egbert? Where are you?” The queen clapped her gloved hands together a few times. Her voice was high pitched, and she spoke with impatience.
“Here my lady. I’m here.” Egbert forced his way through the crowd.
“Let us start with the entering of the town. You must document all that will be racing, and who they are racing for. Unless the wizard or witch is racing for themselves, but that rarely does happen. Not many like to risk their lives, and not many wish to risk being stuck here in the town. Seven years is a long time to be locked in one location…in human years. Even in elven years, when so much could be at stake back at the homestead.” She looked directly at me and smiled.
The queen ordered one of her fancy folk to start a small bonfire. I didn’t see the purpose of it, but I knew it held some sort of significance to the race.
I noticed right away that the Fae here had a funny way of walking. I’d seen it done before with other Fae but not quite like this. Some of them preferred to walk, toe first. They didn’t place their heel down first with each step. No. They put their tippy toes down and then the rest of the foot. I supposed they liked to do this because it made them appear more regal.
Just inside the entrance to the town, a plain wooden podium appeared out of nowhere. Egbert took his place at this podium, and asked the first person that would be racing to step forward. I really don’t know how Egbert received the position of “gate master,” and “record keeper,” but he stood there with his head held high. He donned some spectacles and peered over the bridge of them.
The first to enter was the Snake Man, and he brought a pinto with him. He signed the paper with a fountain pen, and then stepped forward to the queen. She was also on a podium that just happened to appear out of nowhere. Her podium was much more extravagant, and was decorated with dark blue velvet cloth, and silver cords that draped over the sides.
The queen took her time carving something into an apple with a gold knife. The Snake Man leaned forward and took a big bite from it. She then tossed the apple into the fire and it began to burn. I knew exactly what was happening. I’d seen my very own sister bite from an apple that a Fae had carved something into. It was their way of “binding” a contract. Once you bit it and swallowed, and that apple was tossed into the fire – you were bound to the said agreement. In this case, it was the race.
Egbert called out the Snake Man’s real name, and his status. “The wizard Carmon from Brentwood, will be racing for himself.” But I didn’t care that his real name was Carmon. I’d continue to refer to him as “Snake Man.”
“Where is Brentwood?” I asked Drumm.
“England.”
“Wow. He’s come a long way to race,” I said.
Snake Man put his long leather cape over his shoulders and tied it in the front. The snake never moved from his place around the wizard’s neck. He walked in and stood at the head of the field, his horse close behind.
Egbert adjusted his glasses and then called, “Next.”
Tom and William were next. They shyly walked to the podium, their horses in tow. William mumbled something, and Tom jabbed him in the ribs, “Quiet.”
Egbert didn’t look too happy to see them. “Who will you be riding for?” he asked with a touch of haughtiness.
“Ourselves, buddy. Now let us sign the paper and we’ll bite the apple,” Tom said. William hung his head low, as if he didn’t want to be standing there.
“Huuumans cannot ride. Not unless they ride for a wizard or witch,” Egbert said.
“Well then…I’m a wizard,” Tom said.
“No sir. You are not,” Egbert said.
“Me MAM told us to enter. I would rather argue with you, than her, any stinkin’ day. Now let us in,” Tom said.
They exchanged a few choice words, and behind them the queen rolled her eyes. “Egbert! Let them pass.”
“But they are just ordinaries. We don’t let ordinaries race,” he argued.
“Egbert…” she said in a sweeter tone, “we do not discriminate. If humans wish to enter the race, we let them. It is their choice to enter this God forsaken town that I’ve been bound to for the last hundred years.” And then with a bit of an edge, she said, “Let them pass.”
I couldn’t help but notice when she spoke of being “bound to the town for the past hundred years” that she had shot me and Drumm a cutting look. Even a fool would be able to figure out that she had some bitter feelings toward us. After all, we were Izadora’s apprentices, and it was Izadora who was responsible for the town’s disappearance. A terrible feeling of doom filled my chest, and I swallowed over the lump in my throat. Still, I forced myself to stand as rigid as a tree.
“Your wish my lady.” Egbert let them pass. Tom and William each took a bite from the apple and it was tossed t
o the fire. This time the apple rolled out and burned on the ground.
Several others passed, including a man with a grey beard and gray horse. The Dark Elf was next, and he held his head high as he stepped up to the podium. His horse was black as oil, and braided into his main were red strings. The horse’s eye color matched the red string. That’s right – they were red. The Dark Elf mumbled his name to Egbert and Egbert jotted his name down.
“Ladriant will be riding for Elkrist the King of the Dark Elven.”
Drumm’s stiff posture told me exactly how he was feeling. Drumm had implied that they hadn’t met before, but he had once told me that Dark Elves practiced dark magic, and live in underground caverns.
The Dark Elf named Ladriant walked through, and bit the apple. The queen tossed it to the fire, but before it hit the flames, it disappeared into thin air.
“Interesting,” she said. She tapped her lip with a finger as she watched Ladriant walk toward the head of the field, his horse in tow.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the way the apple landed had something to do with the person who bit from it. I couldn’t tell you what it all meant, but I whispered to Drumm and asked him.
“What significance does the apple have when it lands in the fire?”
“The way it lands tells the queen a little bit about the character of the being or person that bit it. For instance…the Dark Elf’s apple told her that he is sneaky, elusive, and hard to catch.”
I found this quite interesting. I wanted to ask him what all the previous apples had meant, but it would have to wait.
Ish rode to the podium on top of his white deer. It was evident he had to stay on the deer. He was too short to reach the apple otherwise. Egbert called out, “Ish McTish will be riding on his own and for himself.”
“Ish McTish?” I said aloud. The name sounded funny but it was catchy.
