Part 5
Roderick slapped his hand over his eyes pulling it down over his face, gaping at the retreating figure sprinting up the aisle toward the check out counter. That man just duped him with a ‘shocked face head fake.’ If the Creeping Cruds down on level 3 of the Proving Grounds got wind of this he’d never hear the end of it. Roderick surveyed the store. Thorgensson was at the counter stingily counting out coins from a small fringe covered coin purse, unaware shoppers meandered around like so many sheep (thinking of such made Roderick smack his thin lips in hunger.) Moving swiftly Roderick approached the two Ogres.
“Wheresss back exit?”
The Ogres peered down at Roderick then exchanged a knowing glance.
“That white haired prat done made a fool of you, didn’t he fella?” asked Alice.
“Yesss,” admitted Roderick.
“Can you see yer way o’ mebbe greasin’ a few palms for such intelligence?” inquired the Not Alice Ogre.
Roderick hefted a coin purse of his own. What it lacked for in fringe, it made up with weight. Without hesitating, he dropped it into the Ogre’s hand. A pair of smiles stretched across their faces. Alice swept Roderick’s equipment into a tidy pile and dumped it into the minion’s waiting hands.
“Well sir, it’s been a great pleasure it has. Mind your step, through those curtains; take a right, last door in the dark hallway. Tonight’s passcode is ‘Turtle Brownies.’ And I ain’t talking about no baked goods neither. Hey-o!”
“’Cor Alice, don’ be like that. Not in front o’ the customers,” admonished his brother. “Best o’ luck to ye. I tink yer quarry parked in the alley outside the exit, so if you move sharpish…”
Roderick nodded and jogged through the curtain while stuffing his supplies back into their normal places on his belt. He turned right once through the curtain and entered a dark hallway. His eyes made the gloom appear as midday. The exit door loomed ahead. Arriving in front of it Roderick hissed: “Turtle Browniesss.”
A sighing sort of sound came from the door. Two bars retracted into unseen recesses allowing the door to swing open. Snow dusted the door’s stoop. A chill blast of wind ripped into the hall ruffling Roderick’s fur. The air smelled clean, crisp and like unwashed bacon. Swinging the exit wide open Roderick took in the scene in the alley.
A tan boar with gray stripes and triple silver tipped horns stood majestically in the cramped alley. Oily black hair made up its mane and tiny red coals glowed where eyes normally were. It looked in Roderick’s direction and squealed loudly. One cloven hoof pawed at the cobblestones launching sparks with each blow. Roderick rubbed his hands together out of sheer glee.
“Nicesss piggy,” cooed Roderick.
He looked over the threshold into the alley. To his right was the main thoroughfare, to the left the corridor dog legged to the right. Fluffy glistening flakes of snow drifted out of the inky sky. The boar shook its great shoulders flinging melted snow drops in all directions. At the mouth of the alley rapid footsteps drew Roderick’s attention. The huge figure from the shop came into view. The pink box reflected weakly some of the light from a lamp on the street.
Roderick twined his fingers together and cracked his joints. The bear of a man stole another glance in the direction he had come from and darted toward the boar.
"Philbert! Prepare yourself, we ride immediately,” he clamored in a high pitched tone.
Thorgensson slid to a halt in the wet snow next to the boar. He gave the beast a quick scratch between the triad of horns that protruded from its snout. Roderick hissed with all of his might. The noise startled the large man into dropping the Pretty Pink Princess Fantasy set. He whirled around and found himself belly to face with the glimmering yellow eyes of Roderick.
“Err, hello little fellow. Nice to uhm, see you again. I say, this is awkward isn’t it?” mumbled Thorgensson.
“Wantsss the box. For the master!” insisted Roderick pointing a talon tipped finger at the package.
“Yes well, too bad you can’t use any of your weapons or potions in the store. Because there is nothing you can do to prevent me from completing my task.”
The enormous man stooped down and picked up the play set. Shaking snow off of the box he said over his shoulder: “A very special child one who is kind and deserving is going to receive this gift under her Christhankstide Mule.”
“No. For the master’s child. You are thief!”
“I most certainly am not. I am Saint Olafinski the Patron Saint of Christhankstide, the beloved icon for thousands of children across the realm. Surely you know of me.”
“Thief! Nasty robber. Jussst like the adventurersss in the master’s Proving Groundsss.”
“Whatever. Point is, you cannot stop me.”
“Can to,” Roderick disagreed shaking out his favorite morning star.
St. Olafinski eyed the mauling weapon and snorted derisively. “You can’t use that, you’re in the store and the guards won’t let you.”
Roderick smiled a broad and wicked smile. He took one exaggerated step over the threshold.
“Not in store now…”
With a flick of his wrist Roderick threw a handful of black power with gold flecks at St Olafinski. The self-confessed holiday symbol drew a deep breath since the attack startled him. The sudden intake of air brought the powder into his body freezing him stiff as a statue. Only his eyes could move. He blinked in surprise. Roderick stalked the few short feet between them.
He did several very violent and indescribable things to the hapless Saint Olafinski, leaving the him reduced to a painful heap. Philbert eyed the small creature that just laid out his owner and oinked more than a little nervously. Roderick took the Pretty Pink Princess Fantasy set from St. Olafinski’s unconscious hands. Moving to the entrance of the alley Roderick peered out. The streets were empty. Better to be wary though. He was about to touch the gemstone around his neck when he had a second thought. Turning to look back down the alley at Philbert another evil smile crossed his lips.
“Piggy tasty? I thinksss so. The Minions holiday bonusss, nice tasty ham.”
Roderick tapped the gem issuing great billowing clouds of the fog. From within the depths of the mist there came a terrible squeal, followed by silence and a grave sense of paranoia and dread. A familiar sound of slapping feet against wet cobblestones echoed up the alley joined this time by the sounds of something very heavy being dragged.
Epilogue
“And that my dear was the year Saint Olafinski did not complete his journey.”
“Oh mummy, that’s just dreadful,” whispered the boy.
“In a way it is. In another way it is even worse. You see history did not forget the little girl who wanted that play set just as badly as Roderick’s master’s daughter. Devastated by disappointment that awful Christhankstide morning the young lady never fully recovered from her perceived loss. She allowed a seed of anger to fester deep within her soul.”
“What happened then?” the young lad asked.
“She was a young witch. She had cast a spell to deliver the information to Saint Olafinski regarding the gift she desired. From the day she was so bitterly disappointed she focused her energy into the study of dark magic, eventually conquering the Fantasy Realm by the time she was twenty three.”
The mother paused and rubbed the boy’s back reassuringly. “Eventually your great-great-grandfather Thews of Barbaria slew the unhappy wretch and freed the kingdom. The lesson you should take from this is: It is not necessarily the disappointments in life but rather how we handle them that defines our character.”
The boy lay silent in his bed for a moment contemplating the starry sky above him.
“Mummy, does this mean I’m not getting the Storm Siege Castle play set?” he asked suspiciously.