A Journey of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 9) (23 page)

“Verily, I do find solace in your company, human female. If my plans are falling to ruin, then I shall have to take what comfort I may in dispatching your meddlesome interference.”

“No, Legolamb, I refuse to allow you even that modicum of triumph. No, you see, I bear a deep malice for the pains you have caused our Winged Nobility. Lord Stratusbourne and Baron Brimstone are both very near and dear friends. I intend to exact revenge upon you in their stead.”

“You’ll do no such thing! I am Legolamb of the High Council! I carry the sword Julienne, and you shall know why she is known as ‘the Dicer’.”

“I am Persephone Plumtartt of the Forces of Good. I carry this elvish dagger that you bestowed upon me. I have not done anything so droll as to name the thing, but I feel it will suffice for the task at hand.
En Guarde!
”

“Verily, thou art a skilled swordswoman, Persephone, but I am so much taller than you; stronger than you; and I enjoy such an advantage in blade length, that your death will certainly be mine to enjoy.”

“Parry, parry, slash, parry, thrust. You fight well, elf. Perhaps I underestimated you, eh hem?”

“Ha! Of course you did! Everyone underestimates me, and that is why I always triumph! Even now, I slowly but surely drive you back with my inexorable assault. Your fellow human, SternMorgan, cowers in the corner, and offers you no assistance. Your hero, the halflet, is nowhere to be seen. I now drive you back onto the ledge of the precipice. For as far as the eye can see, battles rage. Darkness engulfs the land, and you shall not win!”

“Oh, oh, dear!”

“I shall drive you over the edge, human! You will either feel my blade, or tumble to your death from this great height!
Die
, Persephone Plumtartt!”

“I say, I think not. Rather, it behooves one to dodge your deadly technique, and to reverse our positioning, eh hem?”

“Verily, you only postpone the inevitable. Do you think you can drive me off this cliff? You are delusional, woman!”

“No, my elven friend, I do not suppose that degree of martial prowess upon myself. However, with your back to the panorama, you neglect to see Baron Reginald Brimstone rising up behind you.”

“Foolish woman, verily, you do not expect me to fall for that old tri...”

~slurr-gulp.~

“Delicious. How considerate of you to provide me with a post-battle snack, my darling.”

The halflet is lost,

beneath ocean wave,

Middle o’ Earthhe is throttled by spasm.

High is the cost,

of the watery grave,

to trigger the Great Cataclysm.

                               
-From the Epoch of Enauck

“Gee whiz, I sure am glad I quit running into them Oreorcsies at every juncture. Getting possessed by ancient dwarf war-kings is terrifying and tiring!”

“Oh my Goodness, I don’t like these deep, dungeon passages worth a hoot. Oh, yuck! I stepped on another cave eel! Grody! Grody to the max!”

“Oh, golly, I sure wish my poor old heart weren’t gripped in an icy grip of blood freezing fear.”

“Hunh? What’s this? This big chamber is full of funny old boulders. They look like big old eggs. Oh my Goodness, these are the dragon eggs that this bad old Dark One feller has been holding hostage lo’ these many Ages! Gee!”

“Hold! Who defiles this sacred chamber?”

“Hunh? Um, don’t shoot! It’s just me, Ichabod Temperance.”

“The halflet! Begone, you foul usurper! I am the Dark One! I am Prince Gahrrienkzjch! This is my time to rule! You horrible monster! From where dost thou come to vex me so?”

“Alabama.”

“This cannot be! I am destined to reign over an Age! You end it before it has hardly had a chance to awaken! You are horrid and terrible! I will not relinquish the
Shard of Essence!”

“There it is! Gimme that there quartz rod, why don’t you Mr. Prince?”

“No, I refuse! Nothing can make me release the holy gem!”

“Nothing hunh? Hmmm. Oh, I know, I will dispose of you with my mighty dwarvish magic!”

“You can’t get me with that pick.”

“Hunh? Oh, yeah, I mean, no, I didn’t mean the pick. I have other magics! I have an Artifact from another world! This is a terrible, clockwork device. Behold! This Artifact shall consume you, Mr. Dark One, sir!”

“Eek! What is that thing? It has life! Verily I hear its heartbeat!”

“Yessir, that’s right! Though this here circular creation can fit in the palm of my hand, it has power over the force of time itself! Its spring is ticking away the seconds of your existence!”

“Eek! That’s terrible! How does it work?”

“You want to know?”

“Yes!”

“Then here, catch!”

“Hah! I have it! I have your device of destruction!”

“Yessir, and I have the
Shard of Essence
what you dropped when you caught my watch. See you later.”

“Eek! Thief! I shall slay you!”

“Oh golly, I’ve got to get out of here! Which way do I go? Which way do I go? Oh, golly, this don’t look right. I’ll run this way. Oh, this old passage ain’t no good. I’ll run this way... Hey! Miss Plumtartt! Oh gosh, am I glad to see you!”

“Mr. Temperance, you have the shard! Well done, sir!”

“Yes, Ma’am, I’ve got it, but that old Dark One feller ain’t none too happy about it. He is right behind us! We’ve got to get out of here!”

“Burbity. I’ve been saying that all along. Burbity.”

“Let’s run this way. No, this ain’t it. Let’s run this way, y’all.”

“Mr. Temperance, I suspect that your infallible sense of direction has finally failed you, eh hem?”

“Oh, no Ma’am, I know exactly where we are. See, looky there, I see an exit up ahead!”

“I say, an exit this may be; however, we are on the backside of Mount Edna. We are cut-off from our support!”

“Hunh? How did this happen? This ain’t the Great Northern plains spreading out before us, covered in the wreckage of battle like it ought to be; this is an endless and foreboding gray ocean.”

“Mr. Temperance, we have heard of this body of water. This is the Great North Ocean, of ancient cataclysmic fame.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Oh my gosh, I think I hear the Dark One coming. We have no choice but to run out on this rocky beach.”

“Look there, Mr. Temperance, two small boats are at the waters edge. Let us embark at once to escape the Dark One’s presumed wrath, eh hem?”

“Yes, Ma’am. You and Mr. Morganstern climb in and I’ll push us off.”

“Very good, Mr. Temperance. No, wait! Stove in the bottom of the other boat before getting in.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll give it a few licks with my pick. Unh. Unh. Unh. Hey, my magic pick; it’s stuck!”

“Leave it, Mr. Temperance, get in the boat!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Assist me in raising the sail, Mr. Temperance. Morganstern, man the tiller.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Aye, aye. Oops! I mean, burbity.”

“Our sail is up and catching the wind. This little boat can scoot! Looky there! It’s the Dark One. He is angry and fit to be tied! Ha, ha, he is double mad that we sabotaged the other boat! Look at him just a carrying on and throwing a fit!”

“We have done it, Mr. Temperance! We have freed the
Shard of Essence
from its Dark Master. The lonely prince is down to one follower, a black, mono-horn horse.”

“What is he doing? The Dark One is digging around in a little pouch he is carrying. He has a small handful of something. Now he is saying some words over it. You don’t suppose he is casting some sort of spell, do you? Oh, no, I get it. He is just giving that nice horsie a snack. I think he was just saying grace over it first.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Temperance. He now mounts the steed. They turn away from the shore and ride away.”

“Good riddance, ain’t that right, Ma’am? Yeah, you better run, you big meany. You’re lucky I didn’t dot your eye, mister!”

“The Dark One reins his horse to a stop. He has turned and now charges back to us! What is this madness? That horse cannot swim to us.”

“That there horn on that black horsie’s head makes him look like a swordfish, Ma’am.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Temperance. Hello, what’s this? The horse’s shoulders appear to grow. They are expanding. No, I am mistaken: these are growths from the tops of the horse’s shoulders. Great Mythological Pegasus, that horse is sprouting wings! It takes flight!”

“Gosh!”

“Burbity!”

“My word!”

“Oh my Goodness, we are really picking up speed in this boat, y’all. Golly, we are already out of sight of land! I don’t know where to go! That black winged mono-horn horsie is catching up to us fast!”

“Do not allow the Dark One to get that gem, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Thief! Stop that boat! Give me the
Shard
!”

“Nossir! Woah! Hey, you almost took my head off with that sword swipe when you and Peggy swooped by!”

“I said give me the
Shard!
”

“And I said ‘nossir’!”

“Blast you, halflet!”

~
wah
-
pooooge!
~

“Burbity! That soured sorcerer threw a fireball at us! He has destroyed our mast and sail!”

“Give me the
Shard
!”

“Hey, cut that out! It’s one thing to take a swipe at me, but you just took a swipe at Miss Plumtartt! That’s it! If we ain’t going to play nice, then we ain’t playing at all!”

~ploop.~

“Eek! What have you done? You have thrown the
Shard of Essence
into the ocean! You can’t throw the
Shard of Essence
away; its power is immeasurable! You Fool! You,... Wait, what is happening? Your boat is spinning in place. A vortex of wind swirls about this position. By My Horse’s Feathers, you have triggered the Great Cataclysm!”

“I have? Is that good? Woah, this little boat is really spinning. Now we are moving in a big circle while we spin. The water is churning faster and faster! The Dark One and his horsie are trying to fly away, but the suction of the vortex has already caught them!”

“A well opens in the center of our wide, watery circle. Good Heavens, a whirlpool is forming. We are caught in its power! Walls of water surround us!”

“Burbity! We’re being pulled into a huge tube of water! A yawning blackness opens below us, and the light of open air disappears above.”

“The vortex of air is still pulling Peggy and the One along. We are moving fast, y’all!”

“What is happening, Mr. Temperance?”

“We are used to life in the modern age of 1877, Ma’am, but it was just a few years ago that a writer of sensational literature, Edgar Allan Somebody, wrote a story about visiting the center of the Earth. He theorized that there were openings at the poles.”

“The chilling temperature and presence of ice in the water supports this theory. This Edgar Allan Whoever was onto something and I shall doubt you nevermore, nevermore.”

“I see a faint light up ahead! I think we are coming out of the whirlpool!”

“Whoop!
I say, and just like that, we ride upon a flat surface again. I say, the arctic conditions we find ourselves in go a great way in supporting your polar exit theory, Mr. Temperance.”

“Oh, looky there, it’s the Dark One and his scary horsie! They escaped the whirlpool before it closed.”

“You meddling cretins! What have you done? You have trapped me beneath the ocean by cataclysm, just as I did to  Gneikllause, all those Ages ago!”

“Ho, ho, ho! Do I hear a familiar voice? Ho, ho, ho! Gahrrienkzjch, is that you?”

“Eek! It lives! How can this be? You were cast down and destroyed! You cannot be Prince Gneikllause!”

“Ho, ho, ho! Don’t you recognize your own twin brother?”

“Is that jolly old elf appearing to your wondering eyes the same way he is to mine, Ma’am?”

“Quite so, Mr. Temperance, I believe we can now identify with some accuracy, the name of our ancient prince.”

“Santa Claus! Oh my Goodness, is that really you?”

“Ho, ho, ho! Of course, Ichabod! Though it is a festive green colour, that dress makes me think you have been more naughty than nice, young man.”

“Nossir! I’m a good boy! You see, what happened, was...”

“Write me a letter. That reminds me, keep your lists shorter.”

“Yessir.”

“Burbity. Santa Claus? Harumph. I don’t believe in Santa Claus!”

“That’s why you don’t get any presents, Morganstern. Now then, allow me to see to our fallen prince, our Mr. Gahrrienkzjch.”

“I shall destroy you, Gneikllause! I have my nightmare stallion! You have nothing!”

“Nothing you say? Behold, I have my eight, flying, battle-stags to pull my gladiatorial style war-sleigh chariot! Feliz Navidad, brother.”

“Bah, humbug!”

“You have no magic power in this realm, Mr. Gahrrienkzjch! I turn your steed into a polar mouse!”

~poof!~

“Curses!”

“You have no magic powers, and you are stuck on the North Pole. If you promise to behave, I’ll let you join the other elves in the workshop, but remember, they have seniority.”

“I say, thank you, Father Christmas, we do so appreciate your timely appearance and kind assistance in this small matter, eh hem?”

“Ho, ho, ho! Of course, Persephone, darling, you know that your trusted St. Nicholas is always ready to lend aid when needed. Speaking of which, let’s get the halflet somewhere warm. He is shivering like a chihuahua and his clacking knees drive me to distraction.”