Party of Five - A game of Po

  * * *

  Parcifal had apologized to Theo, but he still looked downcast and moody; he kept Bo the Bunny by his side always. Curiously enough, the usually rampant bunny obliged him. It was as if the animal could sense Theo’s loss and sympathized; which wasn’t the weirdest thing considering it was a bunny with flames writhing out of its eyes.

  Lernea and Ned had found Winceham inside a pool of slimy bog water, drenched in muck. They had a hard time convincing him that the mushroom warriors were real enough to end up dead. Winceham had told them he’d definitely quit when all this debacle was over; he felt had to clarify that he didn’t mean that he’d quit the group. After exchanging a few puzzled looks, they were back on the trail that led to Theo’s village.

  The crack of dawn was upon them; they were tired and hungry, but they pressed on when Theo told them they were almost there. Through a clearing up ahead, they could suddenly see thick plumes of smoke rise up into the sky behind the last crest they had to pass in order to reach the village. Theo smiled brightly for the first time since his steed had been slain:

  “Oh! They must be preparing a feast! That’s never happened before!”

  The others exchanged knowing looks; that smoke was of an entirely different scale. Clouds of smoke that size usually meant that in the very unlikely event of a feast, something had gone terribly wrong. They hadn’t the heart to tell Theo; he’d soon find out. Ned almost growled, his anger starting to boil his blood once more:

  “Hobb. Hobb must’ve done this. Damn his name and soul.”

  Winceham, who had mostly dried up by then, sighed and added:

  “This changes things for the worse,” while the sisters looked at the smoke with heavy, sombre frowns.

  “If this really is Hobb’s doing, it’s no longer a matter of debt, pride, or revenge. This is the work of evil; it must be cleansed,” said Parcifal and Lernea agreed with a nod.

  “By Skrala, we swear,” she said and carried onwards, beside Theo, his reality distorted by his naive, though well-mannered demeanor. Lernea looked at him with pity; his eyes met hers and his smile made her avert her gaze.

  “What’s wrong?” Theo asked her and stopped as they had began to slowly climb the last hill. The others passed them by in silence on their way to the top.

  “I was reminded of my home, suddenly,” said Lernea and found a reassuring core of truth to her words. An icy feeling of loneliness crept up on her; the terrible image of Nomos burning in her mind made her shudder.

  “Are you cold, or maybe sick?” asked Theo disarmingly. He looked genuinely worried. Lernea held a tear with some effort and told him while she gently pushed him up the slope:

  “I’m sorry. That’s all, Theo.”

  She shook her head and smiled thinly, as they walked the last few feet to the top in silence. The others were already there, casting long, nimble shadows on the foliage. The sun had barely lifted itself above the lush green carpet of treetops, yet a warm light embraced their faces.

  “About Vulsek? It was an accident,” he said without conviction. He was still trying to come to grips with that. When they reached the top, what was left of the village below was painfully in plain sight, fires still consuming small tree-houses, sheds and trees alike. Theo’s jaw dropped in an instant, with Bo always by his side, the flames in his eyes dying down suddenly. Lernea touched Theo’s hand gently and told him in an almost broken voice:

  “I’m sorry about your village.”

  Words failed him. He sank to his knees and fell on the ground, as if the last iota of strength had left him. Winceham awkwardly put a hand around his shoulder and said nothing. Ned looked with mounting anger at the burning village, his eyes wandering aimlessly as if trying to comprehend something illogical; the crackle of fire reached them with ominous clarity. Trees had burned down to a crispy cinder, leaving nothing but ashes and smoldering stumps behind them. Wooden tree-bridges laid in ruins, half-eaten by the flames, the houses at the top of the trees burning away like huge candles, burning flakes wafting in the air like a fiery snowfall.

  The sun came up, its first rays lost in the glow of the fires. It was an unruly sight, but no-one looked away; each one of them was lost in their own thoughts. Theo finally broke down in tears, and a tender sob took over him. Bo turned his head to Theo and wrinkled his nose; his whiskers twitched and his eyes lit up with a subdued flame before he ran down the hill, stopped and turned to look straight at Ned. He hopped a couple of times before running down the hillside, towards the village.

  “He wants us to follow him. Could he have smelled something?” said Ned and set out after the bunny. Parcifal shrugged a little and followed close by, while Winceham told Theo with a gentle voice down to a whisper:

  “We’ll get him laddie.”

  Theo managed to stem the tears and said flatly, his eyes lost somewhere beyond the burning trees: “It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

  “No evil deed goes unpunished, Theo,” said Lernea and nodded as she helped him to his feet. Winceham shot her a troubled look and said:

  “That’s not how the saying goes, lass.”

  To which she replied sternly:

  “I do not live my life by rote, halfuin.”

  Theo staggered at first, then wiped his eyes with his robe, stifling another sob as they slowly walked downhill. The fire was still slowly consuming everything it touched, but it had mostly died down where it had met the rather soggy, dense forest around the grove where the village had once stood. What was left of it, was burning slowly like candle wax.

  The bunny was standing on a well at the village’s entrance. It was hopping and bouncing around like driven suddenly mad.

  “Bo’s found someone!” cried Theo and ran to the well. Parcifal was looking at the edge of the village warily; she could not escape a feeling of danger. Winceham hunched low and put his senses to good use, while Lernea asked Ned:

  “Could Hobb have done this? Burned down a whole village? Why would he do that?”

  “I’m not sure. It doesn’t really make sense. And there’s another thing,” said Ned with a puzzled, worried frown. Lernea looked around and said knowingly:

  “There are no bodies. There’s no smell of charred flesh either.”

  Winceham turned around and told them, rubbing his fingers full of dirt:

  “That’s because they took everyone. At least two dozen strong, deep tracks all over the place. Heavy armor probably. There are no traces of a fight; there’s a strange, faint smell of iron though.”

  “But I don’t see blood, nor arrows or weapons. It’s like they took everyone by surprise.”

  “Not everyone,” said Theo as he helped an elder-looking woodkin climb out of the well. His plain robes were smudged and stained with soot, his face was dark. Grizzly long dreadlocks adorned his head, where a wooden circlet sat. The Elder smiled copiously as he sat down on the ground, obviously exhausted.

  “Fingammon! Jah be with you! Where are the others?”

  Parcifal shot the woodkin a suspicious look, her eyes going back and forth between the elder and Theo.

  “Why is he different than you?” she asked, clutching Encelados’ hilt nervously.

  “How do you mean?” asked Theo with a furrowed brow as he helped Fingammon to his flask of water. The Elder waved the flask away and looked at Parcifal in the eyes. His voice had a strange, gravely quality. It was hoarse and he talked in a drawn out, strangely exotic way:

  “Be calm now, woman. It be Hanul who’s different. We be de woodkin, our skin dark from de sun.”

  She looked at the dark-skinned elder woodkin as if measuring him for a moment. She then seemed content, and relaxed a bit. Still, she kept a wary look for anything out of the ordinary, whatever her definition of ordinary was for a burning village.

  “Where is everyone? What happened?” asked Theo with an urgent, choked voice. Lernea also looked at the elder with a curious gaze. She asked him:

  “How come you’re not dead or missing like the ot
hers?”

  Winceham was still searching for tracks, when Ned placed a hand on Lernea and asked the elder kindly:

  “May Jah show everyone the path, woodkin. My friends are tired and worrisome. We mean no harm.”

  Fingammon the elder looked at Ned and nodded slowly. He spoke then, the strain on his voice bearing witness to his ordeal:

  “They came... They came in a ship,” he said and looked at Theo with a longing to be believed. The others didn’t speak but Parcifal scoffed, and Ned folded his arms on his chest apprehensively. Lernea was now staring at the woodkin with a frown.

  “’Tis true, I know it be crazy, but ’tis true like dem fires. They came in a ship that flew, like da wind could carry it. An octopus drawn on da sail der was, blood red ’n black,” said Fingammon wild-eyed, his hand miming the way the wind blows.

  Parcifal spoke her mind:

  “The old man has gone mad. For all we know, he was mad to begin with.”

  “Fingammon is our mojo priest! The wisest of us all!” cried Theo with outrage, while the bunny’s eyes writhed suddenly with flames.

  “We need to know what really happened,” said Lernea looking at Parcifal sideways and asked the old woodkin: “Who came in that ship?”

  “It be dem beaucannoneers,” replied Fingammon hoarsely. Ned nodded and said:

  “Buccaneers. The red octopus; that would make it one of Hobb’s ship. It was Hobb’s men.”

  He stared angrily at the sky. The woodkin spoke then:

  “Not men, no,” insisted Fingammon with a wild-eyed gleam on his eyes. “Metal devils, not monsters of flesh. Tall as houses they be, shooting fire through their hands, eyes gleaming red like blood diamonds,” he said with an awed, humble voice and a hand that wove shapes in the air, trying to paint them a life-like picture. Parcifal shook her head and sheathed Encelados. She put her hands on her waist:

  “Delusions. Devils shooting fire? Ships flying? Tales for the children.”

  Winceham looked at her from where he was sitting crouched a few feet away. He didn’t share her opinion:

  “There are strange things in this world. Things that one rarely meets when leading a sheltered life like yours, princess.” Parcifal took that comment as an insult and replied accordingly:

  “My sister and I are scions bred to rule, halfuin. We wield sword and shield and bow, better than any of you. We’ve not been spared of tragedy, nor hurt or ruin. Our lives weren’t sheltered; they were stolen from us,” she said bitterly and looked at Lernea hoping she would share the same feelings. Instead, her sister motioned with her hand for Parcifal to calm down.

  “Mr. Abbermouth is simply suggesting there are things that might have been kept from us, or things that were better left unsaid. Even things yet unknown in our realm. Things rarely witnessed by men,” she said gravely, and Ned added, breaking his thoughtful silence:

  “Golems.”

  Winceham ran his tongue across his lips and nodded silently, while Ned explained:

  “Magical... things. Not beasts, not born, or bred, or grown; something built with the cunning use of magic.”

  “Have you seen these things before? Or a ship that flies, for that matter?” asked Parcifal, pure disbelief in her voice. Ned replied in earnest:

  “I wouldn’t know anything about a flying ship, but I’ve read books on the subject.”

  Parcifal scoffed and laughed with irony. “Books? What good is a piece of paper any man can fill with lies?”

  Her sister shot her a look of accusation.

  “Careful sister. Master would be quick to anger, calling a scholar like him a liar. Besides, I think I remember him mentioning similar things,” to which Parcifal replied mockingly:

  “Of course you remember!”

  “I was paying attention, unlike yourself,” retorted Lernea and nodded to Ned, while Parcifal scowled her face and turned her back to her sister rather childishly.

  “It’s not lies. There are ways to make them if one is versed well in magic, engineering and other arts. Almost anything inert can be given life to obey one’s wishes, but not a soul,” said Ned. Winceham added:

  “The lad speaks the truth. Devious things, but their masters are the ones that control them, the ones that bid them do good or evil. I’m guessing evil, this one,” he said in a somewhat detached manner before he continued: “If they’re made of iron, that would explain the strong scent I picked up. About the flying ship though, I wouldn’t know. I’ve only sailed with those that float on water. I wouldn’t put it past the realm of reality though. It’s a really flexible thing, reality,” he said and he squinted, bringing to mind the mushroom-warriors.

  Theo looked angry, even insulted at how everyone refused to believe the elder woodkin. He was about to say something when Fingammon spoke:

  “Dem golems took everyone, but dey be lookin’ for sometin’ dey don’t have. I knows.”

  “Is that why you were hiding in that well?” asked Ned. Fingammon closed his eyes, nodded and replied:

  “Dat be why, yes. Dis be da reason, me thinks,” he said and showed them an amulet he had been wearing around his neck. A large crystal sat inside an elegant gold girder. The crystal shone with iridescent colours and the girder was covered in a form of writing none had ever witnessed before, beautifully flowing and masterfully thin. Theo couldn’t help staring at it with a sudden rush of curiosity; he looked inexplicably drawn to it, somehow.

  “What is that?” asked Winceham with a thin grin on his face, mentally calculating its market price. Ned knew that look; he shot the halfuin a disapproving glare and asked Fingammon:

  “What makes you think someone would go into all that trouble for a fancy amulet?”

  Lernea answered that before the woodkin had a chance to:

  “Because it’s magic,” she said and looked at the elder who nodded silently. Theo couldn’t help but ask Fingammon:

  “But what does it do? I’ve never seen you use it.”

  “Dat be because I can’t, Hanul.”

  “Of course you can, you’re the elder priest. You taught me Choujou yourself. Surely there’s -”

  The elder cut Theo short and raised a finger to his mouth, bid him to silence. He then talked to him as if they were alone:

  “Boy, you have grown. Years have passed since we found you, a wee baby in da woods.”

  Theo’s eyes narrowed, his voice became shallow:

  “You mean.. I’m adopted? My parents weren’t eaten by trollsharks?”

  Parcifal turned around and saw Theo’s expression of puzzled shock. She had to bury her face in her palm silently. The others looked at each other awkwardly, but no-one said a word.

  “Da tribe raised you like we would a woodkin. But dis amulet, and dat bunny of yours,” he said wild-eyed before adding with a sharp whisper, “I found them in dem woods by your side, twenty long years before.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I can’t know why dis came to be, I only know de bunny protected you fiercely. Singed my hair badly, too. And da amulet, I cannae dare guess. But we were afraid to hand it down to ya.”

  “Why?” asked Theo with a terrible frown, his voice demanding yet mellow.

  “Because o’ da juju you be wieldin’,” replied the priest, real fear riding his voice. Theo couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t understand:

  “You have the Choujou as well, Fingammon.”

  “Dose be no mo’ than tricks, Hanul. Youse’d be four, no mo’, and dere be flames and sparks, even sno’ toyin’ ’round you. And every mon be scared of ya. We taught ya da choujou, da tricks we played on you to keep ya from doin’ any real harm. It be a dangerous gift dat amulet - I can feels it in ma bones. I be a little wisa, and kept it. I knew it be wrong, but we was scared, mon,” said the priest and everyone saw the truth of his words in his burdened voice.

  “If that’s true, and that amulet is that dangerous or powerful as you think it is, won’t they be coming again for it?” asked Lernea.

  “They m
ade sure to burn down everything though,” Ned added.

  “Dey searched everytin’ first. Den dey put chains in me people, and flew away like dey came. I couldn’t see dem, but me could hear. I heard a man’s voice say dey be back, to search wit da hound, ’e said. But de other voice I heard, dat was no man’s voice,” said the Elder and shook his head from side to side ominously.

  “Well, any suggestions?” asked Lernea.

  Parcifal broke her silence:

  “We need to rest. We can’t press any longer today. Svarna knows, I’m starving. Just ate my last sweetbread,” she said and placed a hand on her belly.

  “We need a place overlooking the village. A hill won’t do either; too exposed,” offered Ned.

  “I know a place. The Lake,” said Theo with some reluctance in his voice. Lernea shook her head.

  “A lake? Won’t do any good, too open.”

  Theo replied: “It’s not a lake, it’s a cave really.”

  “Why do you call it the Lake then?” asked Parcifal with a scoff.

  “Because dere be a lake underground,” said Fingammon. Winceham stretched his legs and worked his joints. He asked expectantly:

  “It’s not very far, is it?”

  “No, right at that hill’s base,” said Theo and pointed to a hill stepped in morning shadow.

  “Alright then. Let Winceham have first shift, then me and then you sister. Ned and Theo, you’re last,” said Lernea as she nodded to Theo to help the old woodkin to his feet. Theo did not seem to question her one bit. As the woodkin stood upright, he told Lernea with a fatherly voice:

  “You be strong, but dey be stronger dan you. Dey be many. You can’t fight dem, if dat be in your mind. Run, woman, I say, and you be running far away.”

  Lernea shook her head before she replied flatly:

  “I’m tired of running, woodkin.”

  Those words brought a grin on Ned’s face, while Winceham rolled his eyes and mumbled something about his feet killing him. They all set out towards the Lake, leaving the village’s ruins to smolder under an overcast sky.

  “What will we be on the lookout for?” Parcifal asked her sister.

  “A flying ship,” said Lernea.

  “You don’t really believe that story, do you?” her sister asked in a hushed voice as Theo led the way, Fingammon wearily trudging along by his side.

  And then Bo popped up from beneath the ground, right in front of her feet. He looked at her with eyes glowing hot as embers, before grinning widely directly at her and burrowing itself down again. A moment later it popped up right behind Theo, and followed him close by, happily hopping around him playfully, the flames around his eyes twirling like a torch at night.

  Parcifal answered her own question before Lernea could answer:

  “Never mind that. I guess a flying ship’s not that weird,” she said and fell in line, Ned and Winceham close behind them.

  Clouds were gathering. It was a hazy morning.

  Ned was on watch, sitting at a ledge at the mouth of the cave. He hadn’t really slept all that well; the physical exertion made his muscles ache but his troubled mind couldn’t rest, and so he fidgeted nervously, never really getting a proper rest. Dark thoughts wrestled in his mind, and the need for revenge made his stomach churn and his heart thump mightily in his chest. He looked at the cloudy sky from the lip of the cave, his fingers gently caressing his drum, his sole possession in the world now and the last thing he loved.

  Theo couldn’t sleep either; the realisation that almost his whole life he had been lied to, even if it seemed to be in everyone’s best interest, was impossible to fathom. A lot of things were impossible for Theo to fathom actually, but this one in particular stung him like bees from hell. To top it off, there was no-one of his people to talk to about other than the elder, who having fully explained to him how he came to find him one day in the wounds, he fell asleep, the years on his back and the exhaustion from the ordeal with Hobb’s raid having exerted their toll on the aged woodkin.

  Theo kept to himself, never uttering a word. He sat with his legs crossed, his eyes unable to part with the vista of his village burned to the ground. Little clouds of smoke still gathered above it, but the fires had been extinguished by that time, after having eating almost everything, leaving little for the eye to see that at one time, people had lived there. All that remained, was old Fingammon, sleeping in the cave deeply.

  Ned watched Theo absentmindedly, himself lost in thought. He had a sudden realisation then: if it wasn’t for the ears and the bunny, it felt to him that he was watching himself. They had both lost their homes, and Theo had never met his parents; in a way, that was worse than what Ned was going through. At least he had some memories. But Theo, thought Ned, all he had to cry for was a bunny with a condition and an amulet that had only caused him disaster.

  “It’s not easy, is it?” said Ned, speaking from the heart. Theo did not look at him, but simply remained silent, gazing outwards into the sky. Ned walked over him, and sat himself down on the bedrock beside Theo.

  “My father was murdered last night,” he said. The words spurred something in Theo. He looked thoughtful when he said softly:

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Ned nodded and spent a moment or so watching Theo in silence. The bunny was with him always it seemed. Just holding Bo seemed to be more than important to Theo. The flames on Bo’s eyes were a mere prickle of light at that time; he looked content, nibbling a thick wide leaf. It kept looking at Theo as if he knew things were hard for him. Ned thought it wasn’t impossible for a flame-eyed rabbit to know such things. It didn’t take an expert in magical beasts to realise it when Bo looked at them funny. This was one such time. Theo noticed the look Bo shot Ned, ears pointed eagerly upright, the prickles of light in its eyes brightening up.

  “Calm down Bo. He’s not bad. The bad men are out there,” said Theo with a grittiness that his youthful, woodkin appearance belied. Ned spoke to him earnestly:

  “I don’t know what you’re feeling right now. That would be a lie. But you haven’t slept, and I couldn’t do that either. I don’t know if it’s normal. But I’m not feeling tired. Sure, the legs hurt a bit, and my stomach’s growling, but that’s not the real pain.”

  Ned let his words trail off awkwardly, remembering what had happened just the night before. He suppressed a tear and feeling somewhat embarrassed, looked the other way. They sat in relative silence for a few moments, interrupted by the far-away chirping of birds and Winceham’s occasional saw-like snore. Theo broke the silence then:

  “What was your father like?”

  Ned’s face contorted with a pained frown while he tried to find the words. He tried to put on a slightly sly smile and said:

  “When mother died, I was only eight. I remember I knew that she wasn’t just somewhere far away or simply sick.”

  “You were a bright boy then. I was told my parents were eaten by trollsharks. Which, it turns out, simply do not exist. I should’ve made the connection when I saw sharks in the sea. Everyone knows trolls live under bridges. How could’ve they met and mated then, right?”

  Ned’s brow furrowed but not unkindly; it was simply the fact that Theo couldn’t fail to surprise him every turn of the way. Being around him made everything normal acquire an interesting flair.

  “Right. Well, it wasn’t that I was that bright, mind you; it’s just that we burned her body. The plague, they said. I couldn’t speak to her before she passed, for fear I’d catch what she had,” said Ned and looked at his feet for a while before adding, “I think her last words I remember were ‘Go on, Ned. Be a good boy and help you father’”.

  Theo had an understanding look in his bright, green eyes. He pouted his lips slightly and said:

  “That sounds.. Well, awful. At least, I never knew my real parents. I knew there was something funny about the skin color of everyone else, but I just thought I’d pick it up while growing. I never thought I was... Found,” he said as he swallowe
d hard and let his voice trail off, his head lowered moodily. A smile crept up on Ned’s face. Theo’s naivety was bordering on stupidity as Parcifal would have it, but in his mind, Ned saw a child in a man’s body, and that somehow reminded him of himself once more. Strangely, he felt that didn’t bother him at all.

  “Well, we’ll get your people back. With your help. And theirs,” he said and pointed to the inside of the cave. He looked at Theo with a gleaming eye and went on: “And I’ll avenge my father, and I’ll be able to lay his soul to rest.”

  “Do you think it will be that simple? The golems, the men at his disposal. The magic...” said Theo and looked at Bo momentarily with a frown. The bunny smiled back uncannily for only Theo to see. Ned replied truthfully:

  “No, not really. But this is what I have to do. I need this, or else I feel I’ll drive myself mad with hate and guilt.”

  Theo spoke, his words carrying a touch of bitter sweetness:

  “I have no-one else to care for than my people, well, except Bo. Even though they’re not really my people, I fell I need this as well. Fate, it seems, has brought us together.”

  “I don’t believe much in that sort of thing. It’s thinking about fate that keeps people from fighting back. Accepting one’s fate, that’s the worse that can happen,” said Ned and shook his head. Theo looked at him with a wide, gentle smile, accented by the way its edges led to his long, pointy ears:

  “I may not have learned much, but I learned that fate is just what binds people together. It’s neither a boon, nor a bane; it just is, because we just exist.”

  Ned raised an eyebrow and seemed to give the notion some thought; he somehow felt lighter alongside the woodkin, as if he could lift his spirits.

  “If you put it like that, I have no regrets of a fate alongside you, Theo. You’re a good man,” he said and nodded with a smile brimming with camaraderie.

  “Nah, I’m still a woodkin boy,” said Theo dismissively and added, “I still need to learn my way around magic.”

  Ned furrowed his brow and said loudly:

  “But back there, when the mushroom-men attacked, you were fantastic!”

  “Really? I kind of never did that before, actually,” replied Theo with a sheepish grin that hinted at guilty mischief. Ned was taking Theo’s word as not too literal, thinking the woodkin was simply being modest.

  “What do you mean? Your hand flew sparks and everything. Well, you almost missed, but that’s just takes practice I guess.”

  Theo smiled broadly and sprang up on his feet. He felt a bit proud, and a bit taller suddenly.

  “Now that you mention that, it brought to mind that joke of yours. It was hilarious!” he said and couldn’t help giggle just a bit at the thought. Ned looked excited, and that carried on to the volume of his voice when he almost shouted:

  “Really?!” Theo nodded in silent affirmation and Bo raised his head alarmingly. Ned went on:

  “Well, I’ve been having a hard time getting people to like those. It’s a long way to the top, if you wanna be a bard these days.”

  Theo asked him:

  “You’re a bard? What kind of instrument do you play?”

  “Oh, I play the drum,” said Ned and shot his red birchwood drum a glance, before adding:

  “I know it’s a little hard to play most omens, prophecies and tales with just a beating drum, but I believe it has great potential. Maybe if more bards got together and everyone played a different instrument, I could be, you know, supporting their music with beating the drum. And then we could tour, get the crowd rolling. It could be amazing,” said Ned with childish excitement overrunning his voice.

  “I don’t want to put you off, but that sounds all wrong. I mean, who would want to see the same bards over and over again? And everyone singing at the same time? Think of the cacophony. Come to think of it, how do you play notes on that thing? I don’t see any keys, strings or pipes,” said Theo without thinking about it at all. His disarmingly blunt honesty fired Ned up.

  “It doesn’t have notes! It does have tone values though! And it needs tuning as well! And for your information, people would love to hear the same songs and tales over and over! I know I do! Gods, everyone’s an expert now!” shouted Ned with a sudden pang of mild anger. The bunny’s eyes produced a burst of flames as Bo turned and looked at him with a twitchy nose. Theo simply spoke his mind:

  “I’m just saying, it would be better to stick to the jokes for now. Just until you get that team of bards going.”

  Ned thought about that for a while. “A team of bards? It’s not a race, or a game. It’s art; it will be a band of bards. Like, sticking together, but also having room to be free. Experimenting,” his words accompanied by wild, excited hand gestures, his voice once again lost in excitement.

  “I see. Will it involve jokes? I think it should involve jokes,” said Theo and Ned replied in a ponderous voice:

  “Maybe, maybe. We’ll see, when all this is over. Maybe we could try it together.”

  Theo shook his head with a frown. “I don’t think that would work. I mean, I’m terribly bad at that sort of thing. I once sang in a feast, and the coconut milk went sour for a week. Plus, people tell me I have a really bad sense of humor,” replied Theo and Ned realised with a scowl that Theo liking his jokes wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

  “Oh, well. That sounds... Well, we’ll think of something.”

  And then they heard a loud sound like a squawk echo from the inside of the cave. Bo’s eyes flared up when the sound turned into a growl. They exchanged worried looks and were almost ready to do something stupid when they heard Winceham’s voice tied up in a long-winded snarl:

  “I’ll tell what I’ve been thinking.. I’ve been thinking, when this is over and I’m dead, I’m going to haunt you with screeching banshee howls. How can any man get some decent sleep with all of that noise you’re making!”

  “Oh, it’s you,” said Ned and relaxed, while Theo tried to apologize:

  “We were just talking, Mr. Winceham.”

  Winceham shot Theo half a look and said while squinting at the overcast sky:

  “Mr. Abbermouth. Or Winceham. Can’t be both. Apology accepted. It would do you good to take an example from this laddie, Ned,” he said and stretched with a yawn.

  “More advice, Wince? It doesn’t always work, I’m afraid,” Ned said and didn’t bother to look at the halfuin. Winceham realised Ned was probably still blaming mostly him for what happened at the Sniggering Pig. He’d try and talk it out of him, if he didn’t know Ned all too well. He simply changed the subject:

  “Any sign of them yet? Where’s the bleedin’ sun when you need it? What time is it?” he asked and his eyes froze when he saw the bunny turn his head around at an impossible angle, grin at him and hold up a flaming hourglass with his hind legs, writhing with molten fire. It showed the day was well into the afternoon.

  “I’d say afternoon,” said Theo, looking at the clouds as if he could make out the sun behind them. No-one but Winceham had noticed Bo’s antics, or if they had, they didn’t look surprised. Winceham thought as much and asked flatly:

  “You didn’t see that, did you?”

  “See what?” said Ned and searched at the sky beyond, for signs of the flying ship or anything equally disturbing that spelled bad news.

  “Never mind, it could be because I’m starving,” replied Winceham and spent a moment to himself before asking both of them:

  “Doesn’t all this waiting get to you?”

  Suddenly, a shadow seemed to toy with the clouds at a distance. “There! It’s coming out of the clouds! See its bow?” cried Ned and pointed to a hazy part of the clouds were the shape of a small ship began to take form. Theo stared for a moment and nodded fervently:

  “I see it too! And that red blot! The red octopus on the sail! It’s them!”

  Winceham said mostly to himself with a scoff:

  “As if there’s a boatload of ships flying in the clouds. ’Course it’s them!”


  “Wake the others, Wince!” said Ned and picked up his crossbow and drum.

  “So, we’re sticking to the plan?” asked Theo. Ned replied without taking his eyes off the ship:

  “Of course!”

  “Are you sure this will work?” asked Theo and his expression was a mix of indecision, worry and excitement.

  “Of course it’ll work! Have faith, Theo,” said Ned and squeezed Theo’s arm reassuringly. He then turned around and saw Winceham filling his pipe without a care in the world, watching as the flying ship’s silhouette became clear in the horizon.

  “She’s a beaut though,” said Winceham and lit his pipe. Ned asked with surprise:

  “What are you still doing here?”

  “You didn’t say please,” replied Winceham and Ned walked past him and into the cave, ignoring him with a scowling face.

  “Don’t expect me to,” he said as his figure disappeared into the darkness of the cave, Bo hopping alongside him and lighting his path with his flaming eyes.

  “You’ll be thanking me later!” said Winceham with a grin as he let out a small cloud of smoke through his nostrils.

  “Bo! Get back here! Bo, don’t get in the water now!” yelled Theo.

  Winceham held his pipe in one hand and asked with a sideways look:

  “Is your rabbit allergic to water like yourself?”

  “No, it’s just because of the monsters in the water,” replied Theo as if it those monsters were common knowledge.

  “There are monsters in the Lake?” asked Winceham with a sudden terrible realisation urging him to start running towards the depths of the cave.

  “Aren’t there monsters in every lake?” said Theo with an almost appallingly naive smile.

  “You thick barkskin! Hurry!” Winceham called after him.

  “Why? The bad guys are the other way! That wasn’t the plan!” he said even as he ran along. Winceham’s shouts echoed faintly from a place where shadow had replaced light utterly:

  “The sisters, you idiot! They’re bathing in the Lake!”