Lucas Warbuck, The Prophet's Call, Book 1

by Ariel Roma

WARNING

  Never Trust a Blackbird!

  5

  A DARK-WISH

  THE THRILL IN the air was like the rush of a wild amusement ride. Could it have been Lenny’s words that had ushered them in? Really? What an odd thought… what an odd event.

  Smack-dab in the middle of a dark-wish, the windows were ambushed by birds. Black birds to be exact. Ravens to be precise… spies. Some clung, others hovered, and still more peered in from behind, all fighting for a spot by the glass. They were a freak-show if anyone cared to look. Of course only a few did, but they didn’t care anyway.

  And there was something else that no one noticed. Well, they couldn’t have seen them even if they had looked. But they were there! And lots of them!

  An impatient mob of secret riding-jockeys packed-in behind the birds. They were the cloak and dagger kind. For now they were a horseless cavalry, anxious to catch a ride. They were called Nimmers. If the plan worked, they wouldn’t be without a pony for long.

  The Nimmers were modeled after squirrel monkeys. The perfect mock-up for the job. Dark eyes and white faces gave their tiny heads a skull-like appearance. With the largest proportioned brains among all primates, they were smart as a whip, amazingly lively and alert, excellent climbers, leapers and jumpers, and their iron grip was excellent at holding onto prey; all important traits in the secret rider service. When they weren’t too-too excited, they were as secretive and quiet as a mouse. They were the perfect little con-artists.

  Nimmers were secret agent fighters sent from Darkotika to ride on the backs of Middlings. Their job was to wreak havoc, sting with pain, and deal-out evil potions. They were big-time bad and would never ever leave their ride once they were saddled up. They could only be ejected from their seat by words from the lips of a Middling. The problem was, most Middlings had never even heard of them, and they certainly didn’t know they were being ridden like a rodeo horse. This meant trouble.

  But why on earth didn’t anyone notice them there? Why on earth were they a secret? Why on earth? Now that’s a good point. Well, earth does have something to do with it. It’s a jumbled idea, but simple. The truth is that anyone could have seen them if they really wanted to, but true to their absent-minded ways most Middlings didn’t want to.

  Maybe it was because with even a glimpse of these little Nimmer spirit-jockeys they would be scared silly! So it was simple… they just closed their eyes. Well, it really wasn’t that simple because you don’t usually see them with your eyes anyway so that doesn’t work. So how do you see them? Well it’s simple. You see them in your mind’s eye…. Well it’s not quite that simple because everybody knows your mind doesn’t have eyes! Oh, it is getting tangled now isn’t it?

  Ok, let’s see. Close your eyes… come on now, do it. Now think of a juicy, stringy, stretchy slice of cheesy pizza…. Can you see it? Ok, now open your eyes. Now think of that juicy, stringy, stretchy slice of cheesy pizza again. Can you still see it? Of course you can! That’s it. It really is simple! You might think it’s just your imagination… but it’s not. You are seeing something that is real, and seeing that juicy, stringy, stretchy slice of pizza is likely making you hungry!

  So just the same, if… yes if a Middling was to see into the supernatural sphere of the kingdoms, they were usually scared silly! So they simply didn’t look. But not looking only muddied things up even more. Because not looking, not seeing, made them a piece-of-cake. Simply, easy-breezy delicious! And that’s what Darkotika, the kingdom of the Black Hearts counted on.

  It was impossible not to. The snippy, boorish crowd bobbled and juggled to make way for someone coming through. He was the king-pin, the super-star, Necro Mancy. He was here to control of the game. That’s what Darkotika sent him to do. And he didn’t come alone either. As slick as a hot knife through butter the motley crew with him slipped right through the glass, into the classroom. Now the place was jammed with ghostly invaders mingling among the kids, settling in to watch the show.

  Necro Mancy took charge of the room, hovering mid-air above the board game with his cloak floating out behind him.

  The big-eyed, fidgety kids were blind to it all. They were normal Middlings, as normal, as normal as can be, with no clue about any Darkotika game-plan.

  Who knew that they were the game pieces in the big game… the only game that mattered. The kingdom of the Black Hearts looked at them as simple-minded pawns just holding a place. Place keepers. Their middling-ness fit perfectly into the plan. It always had. And who would want to change it? Surely not the Middlings. That was plain to see.

  But wait… wait, there was one who wanted to change it. Yes, one to be sure! One whole kingdom in fact; one secret kingdom that did not want to stay a secret at all! It was a secret Kingdom just waiting and wanting to be discovered by someone; by anyone, and particularly a Middling.

  It was well known throughout both of the kingdoms that Middlings were look-alikes of the Prince of Morning Star Kingdom, and that was enough for split-second loathing, every time. It was like every Middling wore a picture of the Prince. Worse than that, oh much-much worse… the Prince was totally sold-out to them. He loved each and every one of them.

  The Middlings were clueless to any of this and if there was even a sneaking suspicion of it, Darkotika cronies would attack fiercely to capture the thought and snuff it. Like a tag-team, one after another, the treadmill of bullies never quit. Poor things, and they really believed they were free too.

  The life of a Middling may have been simple but it wasn’t easy. There was a maze of roadblocks. Trash heaps of broken dreams, never-ending nervous glances and a firestorm of fears, struggles and regrets. But there was one thing Darkotika hadn’t counted on. It was one flickering ember that was almost smothered to death daily. But it just wouldn’t quit… it was hope. Deep down past the point of knowing, every Middling hoped that there was something more. And… there was.

  So, just because Morning Star Kingdom was a well-kept secret, don’t believe for an instant that the kingdom rulers were caught off guard about the classroom hoax this morning. Oh they knew about it all right. Kingdom warriors were already there with a plan of their own.

  Lenny hushed everyone quiet. “Every time I played this with my aunt it worked,” he boasted. And Lenny’s zeal to see the game “work” was thrilling to more than just his classmates.

  Far from the enchanted innocence on the faces of the kids huddled in Target Middle School’s class 6B, deep in a crater of the abyss, the kingdom of Darkotika was already charmed by Lenny. Maybe it was because the rest of the De Villain family was so radically sold out to Darcoticism, maybe it was his dark-tilted personality or his smooth deceptive ways. Whatever it was, he was a good fit.

  For now, the boy had no idea about the budding force of his words. It was a terrific help that he was bowing to the dark-side pull already. One of the chief warriors in the Kingdom of Darkotika was taking notice.

  Chief Wizard Caldron pointed his long-bone finger at the colossal video screen. He was priming to speak. His handlebar mustache twitched a speedy signal that he was annoyed, and not just a little. “Has anyone checked the book on this boy yet?” His chapped lips puckered and curved, a sign of a looming outburst. If his suspicions were right and they likely were, no one had taken a serious look at this boy’s potential. He threw his fellow cronies a snooty look. Their ditzy ways irked him.

  No one turned, no one answered. Finally when the huffy stare broke him, a bald-headed wargroom with half-moon circles of sweat under both arms, began sputtering. The same crescent shape showed up again in etched shadows under his eyes. He looked freakish with one wandering googly eye, and his blank face draining pale. He dithered and mumbled a bunch of nothing.

  “Well get it then!” Caldron screamed, his arms flashed out of his cloak.

  The wargroom jumped at the chance to escape. He would have disappeared in a split second dash hobbling for the library if only his stubby legs would go faster. Instead, he waddled away.


  The look on Caldron’s face watching the wargroom “rushing off,” was like he’d been whipped with a noodle. He groaned and twirled his mustache into spears. The room, tinted an eerie twilight blue, was pulsing a brighter glow now. The video was beaming live on the Darkot-atron. Good, he thought, at least Radger was reliable.

  There he was. The wonder-boy. Lenny was put-ting on a show almost as good as Necro Mancy’s. The chalkboard brushes were even starting to shake. Chalk dust whirled and puffed and drifted, fogging the room.

  This boy was good. Caldron untwined his mustache, studying Lenny’s every move. They weren’t so lucky with the last one. He turned out to be a wretched waste of time. He wished they had killed him off while they still had the chance… before he defected to the light. He was a traitor. He couldn’t think about it. It only made him sick.

  So the hunt was on for a replacement. A dedicated black-heart with a talent for wizardry. Someone wil-ling to make gut wrenching sacrifices for Darkotika.

  Caldron’s eyes ricocheted on and off the screen. He couldn’t make a mistake again. Lenny had been cursed, abandoned and robbed of his innocence. He was vulnerable… and he was already living with a Prima Witchina. He was a good prospect. A quick appetite for the dark side; a fresh hype for the game. The decision was an easy one. If the records checked out it would be open-season on Lenny. He would be marked for the chase. He wouldn’t know what hit him.

  The more Wizard Caldron thought about it the more he liked the idea. He wondered if this boy might finally be his ticket into the higher ranks.

  “Where is that imbecilic idiot? I want that book now!” he shrieked. His voice boomed and echoed and startled the room. Even the furniture shook.

  The meter was running. Middling time was racing. He had seen it before, they could turn to the light in a flash. He could hardly wait to get his hands on that book!

  Back in the classroom, wide eyed students bubbled with curiosity and excitement.

  Lenny took charge. “Let’s give it a go!” he said. “Ok, who wants to go first? Who has a question?”

  “I do!” Sergio was quick.

  Lenny’s voice flipped a switch. It was Necro’s signal to start. His ritual began with a showy display of himself. With plump gray leach-lips frozen to a fake smile, he was the star of the show. The minds of the gawking youngsters at his feet were swept out of the classroom, way past the unseeing Target town line. Necro was famous for doling out figments of imagination, and they could change in a snap. He was a quick-change artist, a stalker. His game was capture and hold… forever.

  Now he was a maestro, directing a finely tuned orchestra. His spider-hands lifted high into a dramatic pose. Instead of a song, stringy webs spun off his fingertips and netted the ceiling and walls. In an instant the classroom was transformed into a cage-like forum. The Nimmers waiting outside knew the routine. On cue, they slipped through the glass and crowded in behind the webs. The net bulged and swayed like a wind-blown hammock, just above the gullible students.