Yet another writing dump (40,000 words celebration!!!)

@n o s t r a d a m u s

Because I've finally hit 40,000 words on my WIP (about half way) I thought I'd share some more bits.

Apologies if i've posted the same passages twice lol.

Any feedback is welcome, good or bad :)

Angus was so glad to finally see a town. For the past two days he’d done nothing but wander through empty woods, drinking from the stream and eating exactly nothing.

The first few hours had been magical. The forest was very different from the bush he was used to. The birdcall wasn’t shrill or chortling like the cockatoos or magpies, but was instead a mixture of peaceful chirps and carrying songs.

There were oaks, birches, and maples. He had picked one of the acorns up off the ground and had stopped to stare at it for a minute, rolling it back between his fingers. It had a much different texture to the gumnuts that fell from the trees around his house and littered the driveway. He stumbled through the occasional clearing, filled with an array of pastel wildflowers. The high grass scratching at his legs until he made it to the next stretch of forest. There were fallen over trunks, with strange rings of mushrooms growing out of the rotting wood. Angus had thought about eating them. But then he had remembered the time he had dared one of the younger kids at school, Billy Kallegropoulous, to eat one of the mushrooms that had popped up in the grass near the school playground and he’d been sick in the hospital for a week. He decided it was best to keep going until he found some actual food.

He had come upon a bubbling brook and had spent a solid twenty minutes trying to catch fish with his bare hands from the banks. His fish-catching strategy had not proved very fruitful, he decided, and instead he hunted for interesting rocks and bits of coloured glass. He pocketed quite a few. And once he had a sufficient collection, he decided to call it a day and set up a camp for the night.

But then he had accidentally stepped in the stream. From then on, every step he took squelched because of his wet socks. His sneakers were not equipped for this kind of terrain and neither were his clothes. It had been the end of summer where he’d come from, and it was most definitely not summer wherever he was now. The previous night he had done nothing but shiver in his t-shirt and shorts, hungry and cold. The wind and the drizzle biting into his bare arms and legs with it’s frosty teeth. He decided it was best to keep moving rather than sleep. So he trudged through the forest in the dark, hoping that he would eventually figure out how to start a fire.

And then, early the next morning, he finally saw it. A small city at the base of the hill. Angus had practically run towards it, his clothes getting stuck on branches and his legs being scratched by brambles, blisters forming on the backs of his ankles as he sped down the hill in his wet socks.

The guards had not been as happy to see him as he was to see them. As he approached the gate they barred the way with their spears. “State your name and purpose,” One said in a deep, commanding voice.

“I’m Angus. I’m not really sure why I’m here but I’d really like some food,” He shifted awkwardly and his sneaker squelched, “And maybe some new shoes.”

He couldn’t see either of their faces to gauge whether that had been the right thing to say. The guards were both wearing bronze plated suits of armour, a white cloak draped over the left shoulder of both. Their helmets were simplistic, with a slit for them to see out of and a white horsehair crest adorning the top in a mohawk-type fashion.

“We don’t allow vagrants. Especially not strangely dressed ones. Be on your way to someplace else.” Said the second guard.

“Strangely dressed? You’re the ones who’re strangely dressed,” Angus said.

“Beat it kid!” Said the first, and pointed his spear right at Angus’ freckly nose. “Like Pulsifer said, we don’t welcome vagrants into our city. Lower than rats you lot are, if you ask me,” The guard swatted at him with the spear and Angus decided not to argue that point. He would rather keep his nose, anyway.

Luckily for him, he had a plan B.

Angus snuck around the wall to a spot where he hoped he wouldn’t be seen, and tried to scale the wall. A task that proved to be much more difficult and much louder than he had expected it to be. It was at least thrice as tall as he was.

On his first few attempts to clamber over it, he had tried to avoid using his right hand altogether. But that approach had only landed him on his backside after only making it up a few bricks.

He brushed himself off and tried again.

Angus dug his sneakers into the bricks and hung on for dear life as he climbed the wall. He made it up a quarter, then a half. Until he was high enough to place a hand on top of the wall. He gave one final pull, and swung a leg over the top.

He was about to jump down to the other side when he noticed something in a nearby tree. A squirrel. He had never seen one before. They didn’t even exist on his continent. Angus stared at it a moment. It was twitchy and jumpy and looked nothing like the ones he had seen in cartoons. Greyish fir, anxious face, odd mouth.

“Hey buddy,” he coaxed. It seemed to notice him, and it jumped down onto the wall from the tree.

On the section of the wall behind Angus was a large scattering of acorns, it seemed to notice that too.

“Oh. You want acorns, that’s alright bud I’ll pass them to you.”

He turned around, carefully straddling the wall, and tried to reach the pile of acorns behind him. It was a little far, but he reached and reached and reached. And then he fell, swiping the pile of acorns off the wall with him.

Angus landed with a thump and a crunch, directly onto his wrist.

“Ow!”

Angus turned over in the dirt using the hand that wasn’t screaming at him in pain and lifted the one that was up to the light. The sight of it almost made him pass out. His wrist bone was out of place. It pushed against his skin, nauseating and painful. His arm looked like a bent spoon.

“Oh no. Oh god,”

He sat upright and cradled it in his lap. This was not his morning. Something suddenly rocketed into him and smacked him square into the middle of his back, it felt like a dodgeball, but he knew it couldn’t be. Not here.

“Ow!” he said again.

He looked around to see what it was. Beside him the squirrel was gathering up the acorns he had knocked onto the ground and ferrying them into the next tree over. ‘Great’ Angus thought, ‘First it used me as a snack-mule, then as a springboard.’

His arm was beginning to swell already. Now he had another reason to get to the other side of the wall. To hunt down food, to hunt down clothes, and to hunt down a doctor.

After a few more tries, Angus gave upon the idea that he could make it to the other side by climbing. He had even tried scaling the tree like the squirrel had, but his wrist had made that an even more difficult endeavour than trying to climb over the wall. Instead he wandered the length of the wall trying to find another way in.

Even if he couldn’t climb a tree like one, he could certainly take away some inspiration.

Angus walked along the lengths of the wall for a while. Staring up into the trees to see if he could spot any more squirrels. This place was beautiful. This world was beautiful.

The trees didn’t peel, and the roads weren’t orangey-red, and the birds didn’t swoop. There was a town up ahead that would have food. And he was some kind of chosen one. There would be quests, and dragons, and magic. And he would do something good for it. Something that would save it. Something that would bring peace to the seemingly already peaceful.

The world around him seemed to hum. Not buzz with cicadas like back home. But hum, like the air was filled with a million honey bees. It was enchanting and alluring, even if he had stepped in a river, and not slept the night, and had been outsmarted by a squirrel.

Back home was scorching and dry and made Angus feel suffocated. But no one knew him here. He wouldn’t be stared at like back home. There was no one here to treat him like he was bad, no one here who had seen the things he wasn’t proud of or the silly ideas that landed him in hot water. No parents, no teachers, no Caspar. He was free to start over. And this time he wouldn’t make any mistakes.

Up ahead of him was another gate with another pair of guards. ‘This time’, Angus thought. This time he would get it right.

He swaggered up to the two guards. One was tall and slender and the other short and stocky, they wore the same plain silver armour as the other two, their helms each adorned with a white crest. Angus puffed out his chest and held his head high. “State your name and purpose,”

He stared at himself in the mirrors as he passed. There was something unsettling about his appearance in them, the eyes of his faces were narrowed and the jaws set. There was a sinister gleam about his many reflections. A darkness that burned at their edges. He nudged Leni in the side.

“Do you think I look weird?” He asked.

She stopped and looked him up and down, scrutinising his features in her own analytical way.

“Yep. It’s your ears I think.” She tugged on her ears to make them stick out more. Like his.

“Not me! The reflection!”

They both looked over at their own reflections, refracted as far as the eye could see in the mirrored hall. A moment of silence passed and Angus stared at himself. The large ears, the ginger curls, the spotty freckles, and the air of something sinister underneath it all. He didn’t quite recognise himself.

“You look the same to me.” Leni shrugged and continued up the hall, half-jogging to catch up.

Angus didn’t quite know what to do with that.

He turned away from his reflection and followed after the others, trying not to let the thought that there wasn’t something quite right about him cannibalise his afternoon. But no matter how hard he tried, words ate away at his brain. ‘You will be safe and you will be happy, as will everyone you have ever known and ever loved. For they will no longer know you.’

The wizard led him to the outskirts of the square, tucked behind a building and out of the sightline of the peasantfolk.

“No complaints, exchanges, trades, friends and family discounts, vegetables lobbed at my head, taxes, tariffs, sanctions, negative reviews, try-before-you-buy schemes, or refunds.”

“You pay me. I fix your wrist. We never see each other again.”

Angus dumped the seven gold pieces into the wizard’s hands and held out his broken wrist for fixing.

Sinrith pocketed the coins and dug out a little vial filled with sparkly baby-blue powder. The boy watched as he pulled the cork stopper off of the end with his blue-tipped fingers.

He took Angus’ wrist and gave the vial a little tap tap tap. The powder came out like a mist, lightly dusting the boy’s arm with shimmering blue flecks. He popped the stopper back in and pocketed it once more. Then with two hands on Angus’ arm, the wizard closed his eyes and began rocking back and forth.

Nothing happened at first. The boy was half convinced that he’d just fallen for an elaborate practical joke.

But then his arm started to glow. Angus stared in astonishment. His arm fluoresced a bright blue, ebbing and flowing in patterns like water. When he looked down at it all he could think was the beach, lying on the sandy ocean floor and watching the waves roll in above him, sun shining through.

As the glow moved the same odd synthy noise from the portal rang in his ears. Bz bz bz bz.

It lulled him into a trance, warping and magnetic. His head went light and body warm as he closed his eyes, rocking back and forth with the synth. Until something pulled him out of it abruptly.

There was a sharp tug on his wrist and Angus watched in horror as Sinrith’s eyes opened wide and rolled back in their sockets, whites also glowing blue. The wizard threw his head to the skies and began whispering in tongues.

“Sifalala morina lopezium cortenatum evikia afenazat…”

“What’s happening?” Angus cried as the buzzing filled his head and the light from the glow blinded him. The world around him was spinning faster and faster as the wizard kept muttering.

“…insecatat invelio perchaniet vielo…”

He convulsed as the world spun faster and faster around the boy and the wizard. It seemed now that Angus was holding on to Sinrith rather than the other way around as the old man’s knees gave and he buckled.

“…baccarat nato delak tialabum phorensus eviat MERACHUSO.”

The all of a sudden the world stopped spinning and the blue glow from Angus’ arm slowly evaporated into the air in streaks of light. It was fixed. Sinrith let go and rubbed at his eyes, making awful couching noises as Angus stared at his in shock.

“What was that?”

“Ersatz. Magic.” The wizard said it as if it should explain itself, picking himself up off the cobblestones with a considerable amount of effort.

“But… how does it work?”

He demonstrated as he spoke, “Sprinkle, Intention, Convergence of the universe, Kudos. It’s easy, four steps,”, he held four fingers in the air and counted the first letter of the words on each.

“Yeah but how?”

“Just does.” Sinrith shrugged.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“All I know is that it works, boy. Reliable and predictable, not like the Old stuff. That is all I need to know about magic.”

“Old stuff?”

Sinrith shrugged dismissively. Devil may care.

The wizard pottered off back to the square as Angus stared down at his wrist in amazement. Magic. Real magic had fixed his arm. It stung a little still but there was no more swelling or ugly purple bruising. He couldn’t believe it.

He had to ask more questions.

Angus jogged after him, he wasn’t particularly hard to catch.

“What was that chanting?” He asked, “Was it a spell?”

Sinrith stopped. “I’m not going to get rid of you am I?”

“I just want you to answer some questions I have.”

He sighed, “No, it wasn’t a spell. We wizards don’t cast spells. It’s jibberish we spew out during step number three. You really aren’t from here are you? Why don’t you answer one of my questions for a change, boy?”

“Why are you here?”

Angus wasn’t sure if he should tell him but he was the only person who seemed to even realise that Angus wasn’t even from this century let alone this plane of existence.

He needed answers and so he divulged everything. Poorly and at a rapid-fire pace. He told the wizard about the weird shop and the talking box and the maze and the polecat and the deal and his destiny. He rambled on so long that the wizard sat on a nearby bench and Angus was almost certain he was tuning him out to try and take a nap.

That was until he said “…And then the fortune teller told me that I would unite the kingdoms. But I don’t know which ones or how or how many of them there even are or who’s in charge.”

“Unite the kingdoms you say?”

“Yes, but she didn’t really specify how. She said I would be a great ruler, though. That I would be level and just and magnificent and awesome.” He didn’t mind embellishing a little.

“Oh!” Sinrith said. “I know how you can do that.”

He was looking at Angus, or really, past Angus as he spoke. But the boy was to wrapped up in it all to notice what the wizard was looking at.

“To be the ruler they speak of you must embark on many-a great quests,” Sinrith rolled his hands over one another, “You see, then the peasants will love you, the knights will admire you, and the kings. The kings will be jealous of you.” He pinched his fingers to his thumbs and shook them for emphasis.

“Really?”

“Yes, really child.” Sinrith nodded with great fervour.

“And how do I do that?”

“Well you can start by running away from those guards behind you, plenty of adventure in that,”

“What?” Angus turned.

The guards from the second gate were turning the corner into the square. One pointed his way. “Stay where you are! Both of you! You’re under arrest by order of the Lord of this hillfort!”

“Both of us!” The wizard exclaimed, but Angus had already caught him by the arm and was running.

He let go once they had turned the corner into one of the main streets of shops. The pair ran up the crowded road, dodging shopkeepers and pedestrians alike. The guards not too far behind. While Angus was little and speedy, Sinrith was more out-of-shape and lumbering. The guards noticed this and so sprinted after Angus first, figuring they could catch up to the wizard later.

Angus ran as hard as he could away from them, turning down a cramped laneway and leaping over some poor fellows' garden gate. He struggled a little. He was short for his age and the wizard hadn’t exactly done a spectacular job on his wrist, it burned with pain as he reached for the top of the gate. But he made it over. And so did the guards, with ease. Angus weaved through buried turnips and ducked under grapevines. He jumped another fence and was out in a crowded street once again.

He hoped, maybe, that he would lose them. He made himself very small and sped-walked through the swathes of people, hoping they wouldn’t notice when they finally jumped the fence. Angus travelled like this for a few minutes, occasionally looking over his shoulder. It seemed like they had finally given up the chase.

Now to find the wizard, Angus wanted his wrist fixed properly this time. He backtracked to the place he thought the greedy old goat was most likely to return too. The square.

Sure enough, when he rounded the corner to the square from the busy high street he spotted the wizard peddling once more.

“Hey!” he said, “We had a deal.”

Angus held up his wrist, “Fix it!”

“I did.” the wizard said, “It takes time,”

He wasn’t going to let him get off the hook that easily. He had gone through so much trouble just to scrounge up the money to get it fixed, he may as well get something out of it.

Angus dragged the wizard down a laneway and into a backdoor alcove. “‘It takes time’ pray tell, does this amount of time just so happen to be the amount of time it would take for it to heal on it’s own anyway?”

Sinrith gave him a mercurial look. “Time is relative, child.”

“Really, you know what’s not relative? A refund,” he said, “Fix it or I get my money back,”

“I said no refunds, remember.”

“I worked damn hard for that money!”

“You stole it,” the wizard said cooly.

“Exactly! We’re both in trouble now, because of you,”

“You mean, because I wouldn’t accept your pathetic pile of pretty rocks as payment?”

“Yes-”

A third voice interjected. “Hate to interrupt your quarrel…”

The boy and the wizard turned their heads. Four guards were standing at one end of the laneway. They turned their heads again. Four more at the other end. They were trapped.

The guard who had called out to them in the square stepped forth. His bronze armour shone in a narrow sunbeam and illuminated his brown eyes as he leaned in like a wolf to his prey. Grin dripping with the satisfaction of a treasure hunt turning up gold.

“…But like I said earlier,” he continued, “You two are under arrest by order of the Lord of this hillfort. And by running the first time, you have superseded your right to come quietly the second.”

The guards descended on them both.

The room was cavernous and baby pink. The ceilings were lined with ornate mouldings and the floor paved with expensive marble. There was a twisting grand staircase at the back of the room that led off presumably to another strange uni-colour room. Everything in it was the same exact shade of baby pink except for the piano-like instrument in its centre. An unassuming man sat at it and played a twinkling tune, dressed in a ridiculous outfit.

He was slender and mousy. With dull brown waves that fell to his ears and beady little eyes behind circular metal spectacles. The man’s nose was long and sharp. He was built like a human rat.

The shrew urged them forward, until they were directly in front of the man. Up close Angus could see truly how absurd his costuming was. His overcoat was a patchwork of pink, teal and tangerine squares with large childlike flowers embroidered on, with a ruffled train alternating pink, teal and tangerine. He had paired this with a lemon yellow and lime green waistcoat in a fussy chevron print. Angus couldn’t see the shirt he was wearing underneath due to the ascot around his neck, which was a bright off-putting red, though he imagined the shirt must also be unfortunately coloured and overwhelmingly printed. His pants carried on the theme, they were quilted into star shapes of every colour on a black backdrop. The shoes were bright purple and pointy-toed like a court jester’s. An interesting suit to say the least.

The shrew made a twittering sound, and the man looked up.

“Ah!” He said, “I’ve been waiting for you!”

He reached for something beside him on the other side of the piano seat and stuck it on his head. A crown. Shockingly plain given the rest of his outfit.

“I am King Lewin,” He placed his hand on his chest, “And I have heard all about you three from my little friend down there. He’s been watching you,” The King gestured to the shrew who squeaked in what Angus could only assume was pride.

As they were led closer and closer Angus could see more of the man’s bold outfit choice. He had ornate dangling earrings and drawn on star-shaped freckles in a brilliant blue, his hands were ordained in many rings with gemstones of every colour.

“I have heard that you have been searching for a patron of sorts. Someone to guide into the hero you are destined to become, uniting the realms and doing whatever else it is that you’re meant to be doing. And I have brought you here to tell you…” He paused for emphasis. “…that I volunteer,”

“He’s already got a mentor,” Said Sinrith. King Lewin looked around as if he expected another person to pop out of nowhere.

An awkward silence fell.

“It’s me. I’m the mentor,” Sinrith huffed.

“Oh. You. Right,” The King grimaced, showing off pointy teeth. His beady eyes looked Sinrith up and down through the chained spectacles. “Well, I thought maybe since the boy is supposed to be so important he could use a mentor with some - uh, political backing, shall we say.”

Sinrith raised an eyebrow at that. “We’re good thanks,”

Angus coughed. “We could hear him out, you know,” He said to Sinrith, “Maybe he’s got a point,”

“No. No he doesn’t.”

Sinrith started towards the door, “Thank you for your time and your thoughtfulness, King whatever-your-name-is, but we best be on our way,”

Angus and Leni stayed in place.

Sinrith turned and waved for them to follow. They didn’t.

“Seriously?”

He traipsed back into the room, hacking out a nasty cough as he did ant wiping his mouth and his blue-tipped nose on the sleeve of his ripple patterned cloak.

“I accept your offer of help,”

“Huzzah!” King Lewin clapped.

“You ought to visit my brother. He has his own city up in the mountains and I know he’s been looking for someone to go on a quest for him. If you do well, I can put in a recommendation for you,”

Sinrith and Angus looked at one another, that didn’t seem so bad.

He leaned over the table to pour himself another glass from the flagon. It suddenly struck Angus that it was odd for him to send the cupbearer and everyone else out of the room. They probably all had their ears pinned against the other side of the heavy oak doors, wondering what it was their master wanted to talk about in absolute secrecy.
He tried to remember his manners as he answered, "That would be much appreciated,"

The Lord took a sip of his wine, "I imagine it must be. For you."

Angus kicked Sinrith under the table, who finally looked up from his food and muttered in agreement. Mouth full of beans and asparagus.

It was a slight but it was something.

"Now, to the metaphorical meat and potatoes of why I'm sparing you both from being made an example of,"

"As you may know," He said to Sinrith, "I am not a merciful man. Nor am I a feeling man. Crimes are so hard to prove here that when a perpetrator is caught it's tempting to use them as a lesson for other would-be transgressors,"

The Lord said then, to Angus, "I am a man who does not make exceptions. Even to those of great potential such as yourself,"

He pulled something from under the table and laid it out amongst the bowls and plates.

Angus craned his neck to get a better look at it. From what he could see it was a flattened tube of some kind wrapped up in a red velvet cloth.
The Lord let out a long sigh.

"But. Despite my best efforts…" He said, "I am a man before anything else. And we menfolk have the unfortunate tendency to desire enigmatic ideas out of our reach."
He stood then and unwrapped the object, letting the corners of the cloth lay in half eaten bowls of soup and pots of caviar. Angus stood too. He wanted to see. And saw is exactly what he did.

Glittering blood-red rubies stared him in the face with such ferocity that he had to tear his eyes away to avoid being consumed by their beauty.
"This is the legendary sword of Redrock the Giant. At least, some of it."

He paused once more.

“I have the scabbard but not the sword that it must have once housed. I’ve sent dozens of men out to try and find it. Warriors, knights, barbarians, men of nerve and muscle. None have been successful.”

Angus moved to look at the scabbard. He had to, no matter how badly it made his eyes sting or his throat close over. There was something about it. Something drawing him closer in much the same way the fortune teller in the shop had. Hearding him on some path he couldn't see yet knew the bends and twists of.

The base metal was deep bronze with little specks of turquoise coloured tarnish dotted hither and thither. Laid in the metal were rows and rows of rubies alternating big and small. Some rows as thin as a hair and others thick as a rich man's wallet. There were embossed bands separating the rows depicting some story Angus didn't know the beats of. Men and swords and hounds and horses swirled about in frantic sweeps of some campaign abound.

It was beautiful. And old.

"I thought all hope was lost to reunite the two halves, until I heard about a strange boy not of this land. And, um, you…"

He gestured at Sinrith.

"If you do this for me, I can put you on the map. Mentor you to greatness even. And you wizard, you could have a courtly position. I'm in need of an alchemist. Bring me the sword and I will repay you for all of your trouble."

"Yes." Sinrith said, "Certainly."

The Lord let out a raucous Hazzah! and clapped them both on the shoulders.

"You should set out in the morn then. Supplies provided for the journey of course. And to help you on your way, I've a clue for you both. A tip I was given by a strange man after I retrieved the scabbard."

"Your treasure lies with he who is often reborn."

"How positively vague, sire," Sinrith said.

"Yes. It has puzzled me much,"

The Lord looked at them both then with a degree of earnestness that unnerved Angus. For a man so insistent about his unfeeling stoicism, he really was quite emotional.
"I sincerely hope you do not fail me as those who have came before you have."

The dinner was over then. The table reset. New game laid out.

The boy and the wizard tried to find their ways back to their respective rooms through the dark labyrinthine corridors and stairways of the fort.
Once Angus found his room again he sat at the window and pondered the clue but nothing came to him. His mind was entirely blank, the past two days had wiped him clean. Everything was so overwhelming.

The world, the prophecy.

Angus stared out the window beyond himself. He had only seen a small glimpse so far. A village square and a bunch of woods. But now that he was high up, the scale of the place was immense. He could see courtyards and belfries and passageways. All encased within the brick high walls of the hillfort, lit by lamps that lined the streets and alleys.

Even after dark, people bustled along. They cast ugly angular shadows along the brick lanes as they went about their nightly business.

And out into the valley. Beyond the walls. The woods were thick and endless. He felt a pull towards it. The forest radiated something. Angus wanted to clamber out of his window and down the stone wall, just to run his hands through the leaves in those trees.

‘Something must be bad in those woods,’ He thought, ‘Something very bad, if it calls to me.’
Everything that had, so far, called to the boy had been bad. He wished he could ignore the pull certain things had. He would try to. That's what the fortune teller had told him. That he would do bad things. Angus didn't want to be bad.
As he lay his head down on the pillow, he made a promise to himself. If anything called to him, he would run in the opposite direction of it.
The morning air was cold and crisp. Angus and Sinrith trudged along in the dawn light.

“Do you have any idea what this clue is exactly?” Angus asked the wizard.

“No. But I know of someone who might.”

The boy was astonished, “Somebody actually likes you enough to help you? Wow, must be a first for you,”

“Careful, child. Is that not what you are in the midst of at this very moment?” Sinrith goaded.

Angus hmpfed.

‘To the Great Wizard Sinrith, the Honourable Knight Leni and the Prophesied Boy Angus,

This is an invitation of the Highest Order. It has been sent to you by the King-in-Waiting of Mora. The recently appointed sovereign of the greatest farming nation state in the land.

The invitation is thus. Our Great ‘Cabbage King’ of Mora requires an escort to his new land so that he may be crowned and rule over us all.

Your quest is to be performed thusly. Deliver our King to us safely and keep him company for his long journey on the treacherous roads of this region. Completion of this quest will be rewarded with gold, a deed to a successful farm each and honorary placements in the Royal Household of the Kingdom of Mora.

*By opening this envelope you accept this invitation and its terms. Failure to complete the instructions within will be considered a violation of the law of the Kingdom of Mora and is punishable by lifelong imprisonment, indentured servitude to a cabbage merchant, or execution by boiling alive in a cabbage stew.’

“I don’t understand, how does it all even grow?” He said.

“Magic!” Replied the boy, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial filled with blue powder. The exact same vial Sinrith had bought from the merchant in the city. To Angus’ horror, the boy smiled, revealing blue-tinted gums and blue-stained teeth.

“We sprinkle it on the ground after we sow the seeds. The Ersatz makes everythin’ grow all year round, rain, sunshine, or snow.”

Angus looked the boy up and down again. He really was freakishly thin from what Angus could see of him under his many layers of clothes.

“My uncle Benji says that before I was born we were all slowly starvin’. That the plants would grow less and less every year. Until he went to the City to speak with a wizard, who gave him the Ersatz, n’ told him to sprinkle it on the ground. No one ‘ere has ever gone hungry again,”

Angus doubted that very much.

“No one except for the witch,” The boy pointed at a house on the periphery of the village, which stood all alone as far away as it could get within the walls. “She won’t use the Ersatz at all,” He said.

“Witch?”

“She follows the old practices,” He said, “The dangerous kind. She cursed our village, she’s why the plants wouldn’t grow, my uncle said,”

“She put a curse on us all. She brought the wifwolf,”

Sinrith suddenly started paying attention. “Wifwolf?” He said, “Those are long gone,”

The boy shook his head. “Not ‘round these parts they ain’t,”

“Edger!” Called a voice from within the nearest house, “Quit talkin’ to the strangers! Get in here!”

“I best be off,” Said Edger. He smiled at them with his blue gums once more and traipsed back inside his painted little cottage.

“You have got to stop using that stuff,” Angus said to Sinrith.

“Oh please. I am nowhere near as bad as that boy,”

Sinrith hacked a cough.

The thing turned to face him. Angus was reluctant to say man. That was what it was clearly trying to be. But something in it’s performance gave it away as being unhuman. It was a thing. Definitely a thing.

It reared it’s head. It’s smile was stretched back into an eerie grin like a cheshire cat, and it’s neck was too long. It’s whole body was too long. Something about it was familiar to him. It’s stubby legs, it’s slithering gait, it’s beady ferret-like eyes.

“I know you,” Angus said, “We’ve met before,”

The thing’s cheshire grin grew wider, “I know. I’ve been waiting for you to visit me again. Has your journey excited you so far? I had hoped it might,”

Not a ferret, a polecat. Or something of the sort. Angus didn’t know what to say.

“Like my new body? I’m just borrowing it, don’t look so shocked.” The polecat did a little jig in it’s new human-esque form.

“I still don’t know your name,” Angus said, it was the only thing he could say.

The polecat pondered this.

“Alright, I think you’ve finally earned it.”

“My name is Janus,” It grinned proudly.

“Janus?” Angus remembered hearing it somewhere before.

“Yes! Janus, son of Janus, son of Janus, son of- well you get the idea,”

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