The red brick road, p.10
The Red Brick Road, page 10
With another scrape of the path, Rooster half ran, half flew back to Gertie’s back. “I told her a thing or two.” He said.
“You sure did,” Honus said. “Scared her off, I imagine.” He turned and looked up the path so Rooster couldn’t see his smile.
“You see that?” Rooster asked Gertie.
“Yes. Very impressive.” Gertie lied.
“Hah.” Rooster squatted down on Gertie and closed his eyes. “She doesn’t know who she’s messing with.” He said before falling asleep.
“She gone?” Marren asked as he stepped out of the underbrush.
“A lot of help you were, Marren.” Honus said.
“Have you dealt with witches before?” He asked. “That Witch in particular?”
Honus shook his head at Marren. “No.”
“Well she runs over the folks in my town... my county even, like an Oliphant over ants.” He pointed toward where the Witch had been standing. “There’s no way I’m going to do anything that makes her think she should come to my town and squash a bunch of us... me particularly, because she’s annoyed.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Remember, Honus; you’re just passing through. I’ve got to live here.”
Honus considered that. “That makes sense. I’m sorry. I’ll try to make sure that I don’t cause any extra trouble for you.” He smiled. “I appreciate what you’ve done so far. I’m just glad the excitement is over...”
Marren rushed over and shoved Honus. “Stop it!”
“Come on!” Gertie exclaimed.
“He does it again,” Marren said, “You just pile him over, Gertie.”
Gertie lowered her head. “Sure thing. Heels over head.”
“I think the phrase is...”
“Ahh!” Marren held up a finger. “No.” He swiveled his finger around and pointed down the path. “That way for the rest of the day without another word. There’s a trapper’s shack at the edge of the Witch of the South’s territory. We can stop there if we need to.”
“How about just casual conversation?” Honus asked.
“Only really casual, uncontentious subjects.” Gertie said. “I suggest sticking with politics and religion.”
“I don’t see how those two...”
“Ahh!” Marren held up the finger again. He waggled it back and forth then held it in front of his lips.
“Okay, okay.” Honus said. “Hey, what about baseball? Can we talk about that?”
“Never heard of it.”
Honus beamed. “I’ll explain the game to you. You’ll love it! Okay?”
“Fine.” Marren said, unconvinced.
TWELVE HOURS LATER
“So, if the pitcher starts to pitch the ball then changes his mind, the people on the bases get to advance one base?” Gertie said.
“Yes.” Honus answered.
“Sounds pretty unreasonable.” Gertie said. “He should be able to change his mind.”
A flying squirrel zipped by.
“Sounds like it stops some chicanery to me. Only rule I agree with,” added Marren. “Overall though, there are too many rules in that game. No wonder it hasn’t caught on.”
“What do you mean?” Honus said. “It’s real popular! It’s the sport of royalty!”
“That’s backgammon.” Gertie said.
“Back what? Never heard of it,” Honus said.
“I thought cricket was the game of royalty,” Rooster offered.
“That’s bait for fishing,” Honus said with a smirk.
“What?” Rooster did a double-take at Honus. “Did you just...”
“Well, I’ve never heard of baseball.” Marren said. “And we Munchkins are natural athletes.”
“Obviously,” Gertie said. “Told you we should have stuck to religion and politics. Never any disagreement with them two subjects.”
“That has been my experience as well,” Rooster added.
“I don’t see how that’s even possible.” Honus said.
“Said the person who needs signs to know where he’s going,” Rooster cocked his head at Honus. “I’m not too sure we can take you seriously after that.”
“Finally.” Marren pointed. “The shack.”
Just ahead on the path was a ramshackle shack.
“A trapper lives here?” Honus asked. “It looks like it’s going to fall over.”
“He doesn’t live there now, of course,” Marren said.
“Then why’s it called the trapper’s shack and not the abandoned shack or something else?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Marren pointed behind Honus. “The abandoned shack is over that way about an hour’s walk.”
“Right, and the woodcutter’s shack is just past that.” Gertie added. “Everyone knows that.”
“Forget I asked.” Honus said. He approached the shack and tried peeking in its only window. The dirt encrusted on it made it impossible to see inside. “Are we at the edge of that other witch’s territory? Think she knows we’re coming?”
Marren shoved Honus. “I’m telling you, when I get my hands on a pipe wrench, I’m going to break you of that annoying habit.”
“Be reasonable.” Honus said.
“I vow to poop in your mouth while you sleep,” Rooster said. “And, in case you didn’t know, we Majestic Wild Gallinus, like other birds, are…” He cocked his head to the side. “Soupy excreters.”
Marren stuck out his tongue. “That is the truth.”
A different flying squirrel zipped by.
“Fine, fine.” Honus said. He pulled open the door to the shack. It came loose in his hand. “Great.” He staggered back, dragging the door with him. “Just great.” He moved to the side of the opening and propped the door there. “This thing is going to fall over on us if the wind picks up.”
“We’ll be fine,” Rooster said.
“It’s going to be dark soon and we definitely don’t want to be out and about in the haunted forest then.”
“Haunted? Come on, Marren.” Honus looked around. “What if I don’t believe in spooks?”
“Just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean they don’t believe in you,” said Marren. He looked around as well. “Believe me.”
“Drat.” Gertie commented. She looked into the shack. It was pitch dark inside. “Anyone bring a candle?”
“Candle or no, we shouldn’t sleep in the outdoors.” Marren said.
“I agree.” Agreed Gertie. “I try to avoid the great outdoors whenever possible.”
“But you’re a goat,” Honus said.
“So? What’s that got to do with anything?” Gertie looked into the shack again. “It’s awful dark in there though.”
Honus shook his head at Gertie. “Come on; it’s just an old abandoned old shack. What could happen in there? It’s not like there’s anyone lurking around in that thing. Come on.” Honus gestured as he stepped in.
Gertie and Marren followed close behind.
“Wait. What did you just say?” Rooster asked as he too followed because he was still riding on Gertie and had been watching a squirrel on a nearby tree.
The fight was short.
And completely one sided.
“And that folks, is why I don’t like that kid.” Rooster said as he hung upside down from a pole.
“Listen...” Honus started. He was also upside down with his hands and feet tied to a pole.
“Not. Another. Word.” Rooster threatened as he swung around at the end of a length of rope. Both of his feet were tied together and he swayed back and forth as the Goblin holding the pole over his shoulder shuffled along.
“Marren?” Honus said. “I just want...”
“I’m warnin’ ya, kid.” The Goblin holding Rooster said. “Keep quiet.”
“You tell him, Gob.” Rooster said.
“I tole you to stop callin’ me that.” The Goblin said. He jostled the pole making Rooster bounce against it. “Gonna roast ya.”
“He didn’t mean anything by it, noble Goblin,” Marren said, hoping to build some inroads with their captors. “Remember his brain is the size of an acorn. Not huge as a melon like yours.”
“Hey now!”
The Goblin chuckled. “A bite sized seso, huh?”
“I suppose so.” Marren looked up at Rooster and gave a long wink. “Riiiight?”
Rooster nodded. “Oh right, right. An acorn. But remember that from a meek acorn, the mighty oak grows.”
“That’s poetical,” the Goblin said.
“Want a poem about Goblins?” Rooster tilted his head to the side.
“Not particu’larly.”
“Don’t pester them,” Gertie said. She was also tied to a pole that was being carried between two Goblins. “We’ve enough trouble at the moment.”
“There once was a Goblin from Lower Ruttlocks...” Rooster began.
“Please don’t.” Marren said. He knew the tawdry poems that came from the Ruttlocks region. Upper and lower.
“Gots a cousin lives there,” remarked the Goblin. “Wonder if it’s her.”
“Who was famous for her unusually large...”
“Rooster!” Gertie said. “Be quiet!”
“Personality?” The Goblin tried.
“That’s it entirely,” Marren interjected. “A pleasant gal, she was. Great personality.”
“Yeah, it was so big, she’d buff it.” Rooster said, skipping to the end of the limerick.
“I still don’t see how this is my fault.” Honus said. “I mean, there is no way that just saying ‘I wonder if this will be a quiet trip’ could...”
The Goblin carrying the front end of Honus’ pole dropped it. He drew a dagger.
“See?” Rooster said. “Even a complete moron like Gob gets it.”
The Goblin looked around warily for almost a minute. The other Goblins stood rock still. Finally, Gob sheathed his dagger. “Huh,” he said as he picked up the pole. “Guess not.”
“Told you,” Honus said.
The Goblin carrying the front end of Honus’ pole dropped it again. He put both hands on the arrow sticking out of his chest. “Gah.” He said as he fell backwards.
The Goblin holding the back end of Honus’ pole dropped it. He couldn’t grab the arrow stuck in him because it was in his back. He fell over as well. Dutifully dead.
The two Goblins carrying Gertie dropped her to the ground and hid behind her. “Ambush!” One said.
“Who dun it?” asked the other.
The two carrying Marren dropped the Munchkin and immediately ran away.
“You want to put me down too?” Rooster asked. “So you don’t end up dropping me. Hey, stop that!”
Rooster banged against the pole as the Goblin swung the pole around like a spear, searching for their attackers.
“I’m going to get sick!” Rooster said as he spun around on the end of the rope. “Put me down!”
The Goblin dropped the pole Rooster was tied to.
“That’s better, thanks.” Rooster said.
The Goblin didn’t answer.
He was too busy being dead because of the arrow sticking out of his neck.
The two Goblins hiding behind Gertie assessed the situation with their combined keen intellect and experience in battle.
Then they both ran off.
No one said anything for a long moment.
“Well that was weird.” Honus said. He rolled over onto his back and looked around.
Several human-looking soldiers came into the small clearing. One slung a longbow over his shoulder. They all wore thick fur coats that reached almost to the knees as well as a tall round fur hat adorned with colorful pompoms. Two held menacing looking pikes. The rest seemed to rely on the jagged swords hanging from wide leather belts.
“Yer coming with us,” said the one with the longbow.
The squirrel sitting atop his hat leaned out. “Squeak!” He added, very satisfied with himself.
Without another word, the soldiers picked up the poles and began to walk down a secondary path.
“I have to say, you walk a lot smoother than that Goblin did,” Rooster remarked.
“Who are you people? What do you want?” Honus asked. He looked at Rooster. “Who are these people?”
“They’re soldiers of the Queen of the South,” Marren said.
“On the bright side, we’re not going to get lost finding her castle.” Rooster remarked. “Or have any trouble getting inside.”
“How’s that witch even know we’re coming?” Honus asked.
“Probably black magic.” Marren tried.
“Black magic?” Honus said unbelievingly. “Come on. You expect me to believe that?”
“Then maybe a flashback cut scene.” Rooster suggested.
“A what?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Witch of the South stood on one of the many balconies of her massive castle. As far as castles went in the land of Oz, it was by far the largest. It was also the brightest since it was built with gleaming blocks white marble. And chrome fixtures, which were this year’s brushed nickel.
Adding to the dazzling brightness of it was the magically maintained snowy landscape which ran almost a mile in all directions. The Witch leaned over the balcony, watching a snowy whirlwind meander around a frozen field. She touched her crystal and leaned her head to the right, sending the whirlwind to fill in a low spot in the snow. “Nice.” She said, satisfied. “Very nice.” She added a long sigh just because she thought it fit in nicely with her mood.
It did.
The witch turned and started to walk to the end of the long balcony- this one was her own private balcony that wrapped around three sides of the castle. That way she could keep an eye on the other Cardinal Witches. When she reached the corner of North and East, she heard a commotion below her so she leaned out to see what was happening.
A scurry of squirrels (as they were called when traveling in a group) seemed to be having a heated argument on the balcony below.
“What is going on? I’m trying to enjoy my snow devils!”
The squirrels all looked up at the Witch. None of them moved afterward.
“Well?”
A chattering started up as they decided who would bring the news. After a quick game of nuts - branches - trees, the losing squirrel clambered up the side of the castle to her balcony.
“What?”
“Squeak Squeakum squeak,” the squirrel - named Branford- said.
“A what was seen coming this way?”
Branford made a circle with his tiny claws. “Squeakum.”
“Soap bubbles don’t just fly around the countryside all by them...” A thought occurred to her. “Hell’s cymbals,” she said. (She wasn’t a fan of bells) Where did you see it?”
The squirrel pointed over the edge. “Squeak.” It muttered meekly.
“Come on! Here? What do I pay you squirrels for if you let things get right up to the castle before you notice them?” She slapped her hand on the (gleaming) marble railing. “I mean honestly!” She peeked over the edge at the balcony below. “Honestly!” She shouted. She looked left and right at the other balconies. They were empty. Apparently, news of the unseen interloper had made it to the apes. She decided she would punish them later on- after they had forgotten.
The castle had been built with a great number of balconies, all with different purposes. The Witch’s private one was to spy on her sisters. Another, on the other side allowed her flying monkeys to enter directly to their area without tracking mud (at best) or shedding fur as they roamed the castle. Directly below the squirrel balcony was a large, rail-less balcony was for the lone flying moose she had created. It was more of a failed experiment than a viable means of transportation, or as in the case of the monkeys and squirrels, spies. It was however, useful in striking fear in the local villagers who were not accustomed to seeing a thirteen hundred-pound creatures flying about. Mainly because there was only one dragon in the vicinity and he opted to spend his five-thousand-year lifespan napping decades at a time.
The Witch frowned. Of the sisters in her particular Cardinal Coven, there was only one that sent messages -or traveled- by bubble. She was also, out of her three sister witches, her least favorite, running a distant sixth in popularity. Mainly because she was also the pushiest. “Great.”
A large soap bubble floated up and stopped right front of the Witch of the South.
“What now?” She reflexively put her hand on her talisman. “What do you want?”
The bubble throbbed as a voice emanated from it: “Greetings fellow Cardinal Sister.”
The Witch of the South rolled her eyes- while the enchanted bubble allowed speech, it did not show images. She stuck out her tongue. “Same to you, Sister.” She reached out to touch the bubble. It floated out of reach, avoiding her finger. “What is it you want, Northie?”
“You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”
“I forgot; forgive me, dear sister of mine.” The Witch of the South did a little jig. “What is it you need?”
“We... have a new arrival.”
“What? I... I didn’t even know you were seeing someone. Congratulations, I suppose?”
“No, you dolt; not that kind of arrival. Another of those interfering Kansasians. Kansasonians?”
“I’d go with Hillbillies.”
“Hillbillies. Thanks,” the bubble said.
The war between the Cardinal Witches had been simmering for almost a decade when the self-identifying Wizard of Oz showed up. The arrival of another potentially influential (no one had actually seen the Wizard preform any magical feats) figurehead made it necessary for the establishment of alliances. In no time at all, the Witch of the West and East decided they would band together. Leaving the Witch of the South without an ally. Since she was easily the strongest of the other three, she wasn’t worried. Very much. She was a little put out when the Witch of the North maneuvered herself into the good standing of the Wizard of Oz. He was by no means worthwhile as a mate, and again- had not displayed any magical abilities. So, the fact that no one picked her for an alliance rubbed her the wrong way. Which was why she had created her talisman.
“Another Wizard?” The Witch of the South smiled. With another wizard in the mix, she now had the opportunity to gain an ally. Something that she was sorely short of. “You don’t say.” She smoothed out her pearly-white dress. Then she tugged it down slightly, revealing a little more of her cleavage. Something she was surely not short of. “How unexpected; another wizard.”
