Cronica Acadia

by C. J. Deering

  “Beer,” scoffed Longfellow. “At sea we drink bumbo!” It was the most animated they had seen him. He went to a cask and filled two cups. He handed one to Nerdraaage and kept the second.

  Nerdraaage took a drink. He stopped tasting it, licked his lips, and returned to drink more. “Bumbo is good!” he finally announced. The dwarfling reached plaintively for the bumbo and was granted a swig. Doppelganger was next.

  “Can we have bumbo!” cried the boys.

  “When you have beards,” said Dangalf.

  “Let them have some,” said Doppelganger, choking it down. “Then they won’t ever want it again.”

  At sea we drink bumbo! The cup was passed about, and all the Keepers drank some and made a pronouncement afterward because moments were good but a ceremony was even better.

  The children finally wore out, and they lay under blankets on the deck. Longfellow had Doppelganger place a lantern at the front of the boat. The Keepers were also worn out and found comfortable places. But the children would not sleep, so Longfellow told tales of the rediscovery of Oceania when he was still young enough to sail on the great ocean. He spoke of krakens and an alabaster whale large enough to swallow the biggest human ship. He told of mermaids and their wicked sisters, the sirens. He told of the great flying creatures of Oceania, which he helped bring back to this land. He told how Acadians had to again learn to ride flying beasts because they had killed off the native ones when the world was dark. He told how good and wise men had said that flying creatures were things of mythology until they were brought trembling before a full-grown dragon. He told of how the trolls were desperate to share in the riches of Oceania but were not sea-hearty creatures like humans and orcs. And so the trolls buried themselves in crates of dirt until they could be unboxed at journey’s end. And to this day only humans, orcs, and trolls have ever made the trip to Oceania, where they have carved out their two competing colonies but still are only two mere specs on the rediscovered continent. And the part colonized by trolls and orcs had wyverns, which they sent back so their armies could fly against us. But the human colony was near griffins and dragons, and the griffin was superior in every way to the wyvern, and the dragon was the rarest and most impressive of all flying creatures, and dragoons could slay a dozen enemies before they even dismounted just by using the dragon’s great swishing tail. And though now sailors brought back dragon eggs for hatching by the elves, so desperate was the Alliance for air superiority that they brought back full-grown dragons at the beginning. And he said solemnly that for every dragon they brought back, Oceania took three men, the dragon took three, and the sea another three—all so the dragoon could be carried aloft and descend in complete surprise on the enemy at any place on the map. And he wondered if the dragoons ever thought about the men who went to the bottom of the sea so that other men might fly.

  The children slept now, and Longfellow fell silent, occasionally puffing on his pipe and looking to the stars for guidance. Dangalf was the last of the Keepers still awake and wondered where the old man got his stamina. He blinked a few times before he fell asleep himself, knowing that they were in good hands under a blanket of stars and with Longfellow at the wheel.

  LXXXII

  The children assured that the Keepers woke up early the next day. They found Longfellow still at the wheel, and he told them they were two hours to Portsmouth. When they landed, the children unloaded excitedly onto the dock before they were even tied off. Dangalf quietly asked Doppelganger for the captain’s fee.

  As the others herded the children over to the Pale Whale for breakfast, Dangalf paid Longfellow, who accepted without thanks. He then bid farewell to Longfellow, who nodded in return and then went back to his work. Dangalf did not know what to make of the captain’s stoicism. Did he not like the Keepers? Perhaps he just didn’t like Dangalf. Or maybe “like” wasn’t something that Longfellow injected into the equation, and Dangalf figured he probably shouldn’t either. Longfellow had provided the services they had contracted for and executed his duties perfectly. Maybe Longfellow felt that that was enough, and Dangalf realized it was asking too much to also want to win over the old sea dog, to change him into a joking and back-slapping best friend forever. It made Longfellow all the more genuine that he was not any different to the Keepers when they left him than when they had found him. With a grizzled jack like Longfellow, it was compliment enough just to stay even with him.

  The children were excited to enter the whale’s mouth that served as a door to the Pale Whale and made quite the moment of it. Despite their hunger, the children ate and drank slowly. Dangalf realized later he probably shouldn’t have told them they would be going to the orphanage when they were done. Eventually Doppelganger, as the de facto leader of the party—the children both idolized him and were terrified of him—roused them from the table and marched them all over to the orphanage.

  The orphanage’s matron seemed like a kindly human (or more accurately, she was definitely human and seemed kindly). A staff of five females (three humans, a she-elf, and a she-dwarf) appeared immediately. The staff told the children to say good-bye, and the children said good-bye without a hint that they would never see their four rescuers again. The staff was especially exuberant and rushed the children out of the office as if to get the separation over quickly for the children (and perhaps for the Keepers as well) as you might quickly peel off a bandage that had attached itself to skin. “They will be fine,” said the matron with a practiced smile.

  “And the dwarfling?” asked Nerdraaage.

  “Well, it depends on his tartan,” she said. “The better clans will have him home in a few days.”

  His clan! thought Nerdraaage. He never inquired about his clan. Some dwarf he was. He had been fighting it for some time, but his eyes finally began to water. “I assure you, master dwarf, that he will always have a home with the humans if no other claims him.”

  “What kind of life is that for a dwarf! Surrounded by humans.”

  “Are you crying?” asked Dangalf, regretting it as soon as he asked it.

  “I’m not crying,” said Nerdraaage. “The tears haven’t broken the plain of the eyelid.” This last was said as he pointed to his moist eyes. “And what if I did cry? I’m not some cold-blooded elf that only cries when a tree is cut down.”

  “What did I do!” said Ashlyn.

  “We will do our best to send them all to family. If that is not possible, they will be sent to the orphanage that can best keep them.”

  “Sad that any child would have to be in an orphanage,” said Dangalf.

  The matron puffed up slightly about this. “I grew up in an orphanage. All of our children have their own beds, clean and warm clothes, three meals a day, and are kept until they can apprentice or take husband. The pity is not every child has it this well.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Dangalf. “I meant no offense.”

  “He does that a lot,” explained Ashlyn.

  “May I have your commissions?” said the matron, resetting her smile. The matron took her seat and began recording the deed on each of their scrolls. She returned the scrolls as she completed each. “It is a pity that public service does not pay better,” she said, taking out a small chest from the desk and opening it. “But I trust the appreciation of the children was also reward.” She made four stacks of farthings.

  “I want to donate my reward back to the orphanage,” Ashlyn declared suddenly. A chill ran down Nerdraaage’s spine. Was he going to be shamed into giving up his own payment? Fortunately, Doppelganger and Dangalf were not making any motions as to refuse payment.

  “My dear,” said the matron, “If you had ridden up here on unicorns in Vinlandian finery, I would gladly accept. But it would not do for our per diem to be sleeping in stables.” The best sleep I ever had was in a stable, thought Doppelganger. The matron pushed the little stacks forward, and they all took one, Ashlyn lastly and only after Nerdraaage motioned to take her stack as well.

  The Keepers next went
to the town scrivener so that their deeds were recorded and reported to Vinland. Outside the scrivener’s office, they glanced over the quest postings. There was an advertisement for opportunities in Oceania that excited the two humans still exhilarated by their aquatic journey, but it was only for sailors or those who had achieved principal status in their classes, so it was not necessary for Nerdraaage and Ashlyn to voice their objections.

  As if in answer to the question of what to do next, a great white owl alighted upon Ashlyn’s shoulder. She removed the message from his leg and tossed some seeds onto the ground. The owl looked down at the motionless seeds and back to Ashlyn. “Sorry, I don’t have any mice,” said Ashlyn, and when the owl looked at Clay, she told him, “He is not for eating,” and the owl flew off. Ashlyn read, “Please meet me at Portsmouth. It is of the utmost import. I will be there by noon of the third. I will await you at the Pale Whale if you have not yet arrived or have departed and must return. Theodore the Wise, Guild of Sages and Seers.”

  “Guild of Sages and Seers!” enthused Dangalf. “Well that is an unexpected honor. All the way from Vinland!”

  “Oh, great honor,” mocked Nerdraaage. “Unless we did something wrong!”

  “They don’t send sages to arrest people,” said Dangalf.

  “How do you know he’s a sage and not a seer?”

  “The wise,” said Dangalf. “The equivalent title for a seer would be the lucid. Sages and seers have four levels of honorific titles…”

  “When is the third?” interrupted Doppelganger.

  “It’s today,” said Dangalf.

  It was close to noon, and they headed back to the Pale Whale to wait. They sat at a corner table where they could see everyone who entered. Dangalf had suggested that everyone remain sober for their honored guest, but Doppelganger and Nerdraaage wordlessly declined. Within an hour there was a commotion outside the door. One excited young woman entered the Whale and pulled the serving wench back out with her. The only word that Dangalf heard was “carriage.” Well that sealed it. Their guest had arrived and by no lesser means of transport than carriage! Horses were themselves a symbol of prosperity, but never before had the Keepers beheld a carriage!

  They all turned to watch as a guard wearing a Vinland tabard opened the door and glanced around the inn before Theodore entered. Suddenly they all understood what the matron had meant by Vinlandian finery. He was garbed in rich and colorful silks, including his chaperone hat, a flat, round hat much larger than his head with a scarf-like tail. He held his nose in the air, which made him seem a snob, but he did make the effort to smile when he saw Dangalf waving to him.

  “What a hat,” said Dangalf softly. The other Keepers followed his lead by standing in honor of their guest and remaining so until he took the seat that Dangalf had reserved next to him.

  After a cursory glance at his tablemates, Theodore waved off his guard with the back of his hand. “See that the horses are changed,” he ordered.

  Doppelganger’s cheeks flushed at Theodore’s treatment of the guard. Or maybe it was just the wine. Either way he was glad he was no longer a lowly guard and on his way to becoming a warrior. Maybe then, titles and honors heaped upon him, he would feel confident to march into the elven royal house and demand to speak to Dymphna. His attention returned to the present as he was introduced by Dangalf, as they all were in turn.

  “Some wine, sire?” asked Dangalf already waving down the wench.

  “No,” said Theodore. “Wine makes you forget.”

  “Which is exactly why we do it,” said Doppelganger, raising his cup.

  “Nevertheless,” said Theodore. “My calling is to remember.“ After a pause, Theodore continued: “Well you four are the cause of much hand cramping for our scriveners. They must document all of your accomplishments as well as the growing body of opinion about your ragtag group of humans, dwarf, and she-elf of White and Red Schools. The scrolls are piling up, and already there is talk about opening a book on each of you. Others think that we should open one book on the four of you, but then the question becomes what do we call that book?”

  “Keepers of the Broken Blade,” suggested Nerdraaage.

  “Fascinating! And what is this broken blade?”

  The Keepers looked back and forth to each other. Dangalf, who knew, did not want to admit to Theodore or the other Keepers that the name came from a Hardy Boys mystery. “It doesn’t mean anything,” Dangalf said softly.

  Theodore nodded politely. “Well, I’ll mention it at the next guild meeting.”

  “There are times I think I would be better suited to being a sage,” said Dangalf.

  “Is that so? You know we are pacifists?”

  “I wouldn’t mind being a pacifist.”

  “Your accomplishments say otherwise. A brutal narrative of carnage in a very short period of time.”

  “That’s mostly them,” said Dangalf, pointing at the red schoolers.

  “I suppose it’s easier being a pacifist when you travel with armed guard,” said Doppelganger.

  “So this mercenary cuts with words as well,” said Theodore.

  A mortified Dangalf laughed too hard at Theodore’s remark before turning on Doppelganger. “Theodore is our guest all they way from Vinland,” he said.

  “I am a repository of Alliance wisdom,” said Theodore. “Outside the confines of Vinland, my guard is a requirement of my order and not a personal vanity.”

  “I apologize for my friend,” said Dangalf.

  “It is not necessary,” said Theodore. “It is the curse of his class to always be seeking battle. All the more odd, though, that a pacifist-inclined mage would seek his company. But to the purpose of this gathering.” Theodore removed a tube from his pocket and some scrolls from within the tube. “I have here your four bloodrunes. What if anything do you know of bloodrunes?” Dangalf began to speak, but Ashlyn shot him a glance that he read as, Let Theodore give the lecture. “Each sapien, each living creature, or at least those that bleed, has a bloodrune,” explained Theodore. “From a drop of blood or even a speck of dried blood, a skilled humorist can project that blood’s rune on parchment or other medium.”

  “A humorist!” said Nerdraaage guffawing.

  “Alchemists,” said Theodore. “They specialize in the four humors. Those humors that make the warrior’s bloodwarp or keep the mage phlegmatic. They are blood and biles white, yellow, and black. But today our only interest is blood. All blood can be distilled into a bloodrune unique to the individual. As unique as a snowflake.”

  “Or a fingerprint,” said Dangalf.

  “A fingerprint,” said Theodore curiously before turning his hands over to study his own. “Why that’s brilliant!” Dangalf sank in his chair. After impressing upon Nerdraaage to cease his stream of otherworld colloquialisms, now it was Dangalf introducing fingerprinting to the new world! “You know where fingerprints could be utilized,” said Theodore still contemplating his own. “Crime scenes where no blood was spilled.” Theodore took Nerdraaage’s cup and applied his fingerprints to the outer surface and studied them.

  “Ah,” said Dangalf. “Please tell us about the bloodrunes.”

  “Oh, of course,” said Theodore. He unrolled a scroll, which he held down with Nerdraaage’s cup to Nerdraaage’s growing annoyance. “This,” said Theodore. “Is my bloodrune. The rune shape is the same for all humans. The uniqueness of the bloodrune can be found in the smaller patterns imprinted upon the racial rune. We are still unlocking the secrets contained in all of these patterns, but there are some things we know to be certain. For example, this marking is called the appendage because of course I am male. A female would have no such marking.”

  Ashlyn could feel Nerdraaage staring at her and grinning. “Can we see Ashlyn’s?” asked Nerdraaage.

  “Of course,” said Theodore removing another scroll from the tube and spreading it out. Nerdraaage leaned excitedly over it.

  “Ashlyn of course has the elven bloodrune,” said Theodore.


  Suddenly Nerdraaage pointed frantically to a mark on the rune. “What is that!” he cried. “Is that a male appendage!”

  “That,” said Theodore flicking the object off the scroll, “Appears to be a leaf fragment.”

  “Oh,” said Nerdraaage, putting his pipe into his pocket.

  “As you can plainly see, your lovely Ashlyn is a perfect example of the she-elf specimen,” Theodore leered at Ashlyn, and she smiled politely. She had learned being female meant a lot of creepy looks from unexpected sources, and she was dealing with it.

  “Dangalf next,” said Theodore, unrolling another scroll. “As you can see, it is a human bloodrune not unlike my own.”

  “Why is it so faded?” asked Dangalf.

  “Ah, very good. It is faded because this is not your bloodrune,” said Theodore turning the scroll over. “This is. You do not have a human bloodrune. You have the mirror image of a human bloodrune. Borrowing from the lexicon of heraldry, we call this type of bloodrune a bend sinister.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Simply put, you are not of this world.” Theodore leaned back and waved to the serving wench. “Poisonberry tea,” he ordered as the Keepers looked back and forth to each other in varying degrees of worry.

  “We are not of this world,” Dangalf finally said.

  “I know. I just said that.”

  “What are you going to do with us?” asked Ashlyn.

  “I am a sage,” answered Theodore. “I do not do anything. At least not as you mean it. I make reports and recommendations.”

  “Then what will you recommend?” pressed Doppelganger.

  “Further study. There have been otherworlders before, and I do not believe there is a consensus on what if any harm they pose. After all it could be that your presence here will continue to be beneficent. If so, it would seem best to allow you to fulfill your purpose and not lock you away in a tower.”