Wizards stride to and fro,

front and back and forth they go.

With books and scrolls and sundered tomes,

In slippered feet and en-shelved rooms.

By day they wander far and near,

by night they ponder and darkness peer.

At moon and stars and wind and rain,

at long lost secrets, and those that still remain.

For helter skelter, and skitter scatter,

swish swash, and slither slather.

The Monsters come, they never left,

and without our wizards we would be bereft.

Of mortal minds not bent by time,

and mortal mouths that can still rhyme.

____________________________

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— A piece of what used to be a popular nursery rhyme.

* * *

Flynn’s dog was useless, Thailen decided, not for the first time that night.

No one had ever accused Thailen of being a “dog person”, but there were definitely times when he could appreciate their uses. For instance they were good for security. It was why merchant caravans kept plenty of them.

Dogs could swim, and some of the men even had them catch fish for them, and that was very useful.

Some dogs were good for catching rabbits and other small critters, and Thailen had even heard some of the bawdier men in the tavern claim that they were good for catching women too. Especially the floppy eared ones.

Flynn’s dog did none of those things, especially not the women part. He looked patched and ratty with a stub tail, as if Flynn’s mother had sewn him together from several other dogs and then forgot to card the fur and bath him besides. He had a pitched bark that almost sounded like a yowl and maintained a nearly constant state of overflowing excitement and boundless energy. Tracking was what this dog did. And tracking was what this dog was failing at doing.

Albacore — that was the dog’s name — Thailen had no idea why — had led them on a merry chase through the Werwood for hours. Hours! And they still hadn’t even ventured that far passed the tree line. Half an hour in a Northerly direction at most. In fact —

“Flynn.” Thailen voice was tight. “We’ve been here. That’s the danger marker.” Thailen pointed at a red ribbon dangling from a low hanging branch. There were several of them and plenty were not red. But they all meant the same thing to children: “Pass this line at the peril of your parent’s wrath.”

Of course, that didn’t really stop most children from adventuring passed that line of ribbons, but when Thailen had remarked on that to his father, his father had laughed and said “And how far would youngsters wander if that line were not there? Let them think adventure starts a mere half mile from the tree line.”

Thailen had found this profound at the time. Now he was finding it — “My sister did not get lost three paces from the Danger Line, Flynn.” — irksome.

“No. No. Alby’s looking really excited now. Look at his tail move.”

“He doesn’t have a tail.”

“Yes, but look at it wag. He’s definitely found something. Now he’s running. Come-on!” And Flynn took off.

Thailen sighed. Flynn was thinner then him, less muscle for all that he was taller. But Flynn could move his feet when he wanted to.

Thailen cursed under his breath, shook his head and then picked his feet up and raced after Flynn. Or, he tried to. Racing was more Flynn’s game. In fact, Flynn had won sever — and the wind howled!

The sudden gust dashed Thailen into a thicket with a gales force and up ahead he heard Flynn cry out in surprise and crash. Albacore was letting out a fearful yelping and was that frost?

It crept across the snarled roots and twigs of the bush, which he was pretty sure had thorns, and splashed across the leather of his boots. His breath came out in a sudden mist and — ice?

“What in” —

“Seekest thou to withold that which I desire —”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

* * *

“— Small manling?”

“N-n-not a-at all!” Barnibus gabbled as he backed up almost into Leinan’s knife held rigidly in a white knuckled grip as The Forerunner advanced. His hat was screaming wordlessly in his ears and the very air felt as if it had frozen over from The Forerunners rage.

The tree’s were literally freezing over, if the cracking and snapping of branches were anything to go by. “O-of, course I-I-I would ne”—

“Trifle not with me, scion of mortal men. I was elder before thine world froze and thawed and froze again.” The Forerunner hissed somehow completely audible through the winds howling.“Wrath an’ fury shall I bring to thee if thee thinks to trespass —”

“I doth’t th” — Barnibus blinked, shivering uncontrollably —“I don’t,” he amended. “N-not at all. F-f-f-farthest thi-thing from my mind. I just wanted to r-remind y-y-you of s-s-s—”

The Forerunner clicked her tongue against her teeth and almost looked like she was rolling her eyes except that they looked like balls of frozen ice and that probably would have hurt! The cold… lessened to merely excruciatingly chilly. “Speak.”

“AH.” Barnibus. “Thank you, good Forerunner, most kin” — Somehow the Forerunner’s face became even more frigid and Barnibus sped passed that. “I-I just wanted to remind you of a small detail thy — you might have forgotten. It is just that-”

“Speak. Wizard. Play not these games.”

“Guests they be, and so art thee.” The fool girl was stupid enough to— Hat was babbling in his ear. Just — just let her have them. Its their….

The Forerunner blinked at him, and then she began to chuckle. The air thawed and the harsh wind faded to a breeze which tousled her moon-struck-snowy hair playfully.

“Oh foolish, Wizardly one. A Warlock of yore thy are not. Colder they be. With heartstrings of blackest iron and hoarfrost.” She shook her head and smiled at him almost fondly. “Guest rights can ne’er keep this blood from me. If claimest thee such, no guest shall I be. Hast thine mortal guest no honor? That she bared a blade so forbade?” The Forerunner quirked an eyebrow at him. “Hast thee no shame? To allow this mortal girl to befoul thine goodly name? Fell retribution I proclaim and ne’er a soul but one to blame.”

Barnibus cleared his throat, combing his beard fretfully with cold fingers and tried very hard to ignore the “NONONONO, OH NONON —” coming from his hat. He shuffled his feet noticing the ring of forest mulch around himself and frost carpeting everywhere else. He saw the cracked branches of the trees and heard sounds deep in the forest as creatures, big and small, called by The Forerunner, bumbled about and slunk off, confused. He saw his breath turn to mist as it crossed an invisible line in the air.

Hat. Was right. Of course. This Fae was most definitely scaring the wrinkles out of his underpants.

He looked up, and saw that the sky had cleared now after The Forerunner’s rage, and a large full moon gazed down upon him. Cold and bright and beautiful like the Fae in front of him. Ancient and white, and distantly, Barnibus wondered whether Cruelty of the Snow Bright Moon was a mana he could some day harness. Would he want to?

He breathed and adjusted his hat and knew that there was no Knowing Twinkle in his eyes now. If anything they were Glimmering in Fear if not Flashing in Panic. There was no Air of Intrigue about him.

What was he playing at? Juggling the first Fae any wizard had encountered since quite possibly the days of Merlin — The Merlin — on one hand, a Fell Doom and Grand Demise on the other and somehow balancing a group of children on his foot? Most likely his left from how he was teetering? This was — this was story nonsense. And the best stories, the ones that kept you sitting at the edge of your seat were always fictional. The Gandalfs and Dumbledores… no amount of perspective adjustments would seat him at a table with Wizards like them.

He was a Library Wizard! By Staff and Rod and potion fumes, give him a century and he thought he might be able to carve himself some office space in the same library as the likes of the venerated Wizard Ogden Mumfsworth Follyfurth. Not the main library mind, one of the offshoots. And the office space would probably be shared… with other Wizards just like him. He didn’t do… whatever this was.

Wizard Barnibus Jefferson Montgomery Barnwinkle, the last Barnwinkle from a long line of Barnwinkles dating not nearly as far back as The Merlin, shut his eyes tightly, drawing his bushy eyebrows — all Wizardly eyebrows were bushy — down low on his face.

“ —OH NONONONO Barney, Don’t you —”

When he opened his eyes The Forerunners face was right in front of him, studying him with eyes shining with all the cold, beautiful cruelty of the full moon up above. “Aye.” She said as softly as fresh snow fall. “I see now thine mind is made, Wizard One. Well met and goodly night I bid thee. An’ I thank yee for all the fish.” She stepped back, giggling a tinkling laugh like a struck dinner bell, and mimed a flamboyant curtsy. Then she twirled with another laugh and bowed at the waist in a mirror of how they met.

The Forerunner spun about and — Barnibus didn’t know his mouth was moving before it stopped — and then it was too late.

The Forerunner paused, with one foot mid step. “Your pardon, Wizard?”

No one should be able to stop on one foot like that. They’d fall. They’d…. Barnibus worked his jaw, and tried to get moisture to his mouth suddenly cracked and dry with all the Aridity of the Saharan Desert his hat had tried to get him to stuff into his robe.

“You didn’t finish,” He said. “Your fish. ‘Thy spoke once more and done. One fish thy shall eat and then thee bid me farewell’.” Barnibus pointed a shaking finger at the plate of fish which had somehow landed fish up where it had fallen, as The Forerunner turned to face him. “You didn’t finish your fish.”

“Ah!” The Forerunner flashed him a sharp grin. “I see thy hast the right of it. I thank thee Wizard.” She whirled and suddenly she was standing where the plate had fallen, the glistening fillet of fish held in one pale hand. She raised it to her lips, shut her eyes and slurped the fish up. Barnibus did not see her chew, but he did see her throat expand and contract as she swallowed. “Ahhhh.” She sighed. “A fine morsel. An’ now I bid thee — what?”

“What?” Barnibus’s Hat echoed “Have you lost your stuffing? Let. Her. Go! You sorry excuse for an APPRENTICE Wizard!” And Barnibus realized he was shaking his head again…. Shaking… why? Why was he shaking his head? Why was his head shaking itself? Why —

“Yes. WHY? Live to fight another day! Three FISH? Risking our stitching for strangers we don’t even know? Forget your Grandfather’s Fell Doom! How’s about you stop MAKING YOUR OWN! I promise you. By my BRIM! I will never speak your name in the hall of Wizards! I will ensure the LAST Barnwinkle will NEVER grace the PAGES of” —

“Oh, for once in your life, Hat, just work with me!” And in the simmering silence that followed Barnibus realized….

“A rough conversationalist indeed. Hast thou else to say, Hatted One? Pray?”

‘Just HELP me.’ Barnibus thought furiously. 'This once. I’ll make a new Hat. I swear. I’ll put you back on my grandfather’s desk where you belong. I’ll let you be. But. Just. This. ONCE! Be a Wizard’s Hat to me!’

Silence. And Barnibus’s heart beat.

Once.

Twice.

Seven times.

The Forerunner shifted and girlishly blew paler than pale locks from her eyes, grinning….

Thirteen times…. Thirteen, and, as The Forerunner chuckled and turned to leave, Barnibus’s Hat whispered softly — oh so very softly in his ear —

“You promised her three things.”