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sakon76Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 7th January 2022
Merlin stood in his workroom, studying the ancient time map and comparing it with the visions he had been given by his scrying stone.
The problem with the time map, he thought, was that the blasted thing hadn't come with a set of instructions. He'd had to figure out over a period of centuries how the complicated and temperamental artifact worked, and while it was undoubtedly a useful tool, it sometimes stubbornly insisted that time was going to go one way, but never gave him any sort of clue as to why the event would be a fixed point, no matter how he tried to change it.
Perhaps the map's creators could have told him how to better use it, but they were millennia dead, drowned under a tsunami with the rest of Atlantis. The two men who had given him the map, the last Atlantean sorcerer and his strange knight companion, had merely insisted its destiny lay with him, then vanished. Still wounded and grieving from his loss, at the time Merlin hadn't grilled them further as he ought to have. And in the centuries since he'd neither heard nor seen them, so his best suspicion was that they, too, had long since perished.
A pity, as he could have used the advice of someone older and more knowledgeable than himself, not only in dealing with the map, but in how, exactly, he should handle the matter of his wayward apprentice.
Hisirdoux was certainly one of those things the map had insisted was engraved in stone. It had sent him seeking through Camelot's streets week after week until he'd finally found the unusual pair of eyes he'd been shown, trying to pull an amateur con job on Sir Galahad, of all people, and attempting to vanish afterward in a puff of real magic.
Hisirdoux had held such potential, brimming with a raw, trainable magic to rival Merlin's own. And the boy had looked at him with stars in his eyes....
But he'd been flighty. Easily distracted. Too easy to lead, a student looking to a master. Never someone with his own strong opinions and stance.
Well, he certainly had those now, didn't he?
Merlin's gaze cast about the workshop, neat and tidy as though he'd merely stepped away for minutes, not centuries. Whatever else Hisirdoux's elder self had done, once upon a time when he'd launched the castle skyward, he had certainly made sure that things stayed clean. And with only a few inhabitants, it wasn't like the castle accumulated dust and grime the way it once had.
Merlin nonetheless found himself missing the sound of a sweeping broom, and the humming voice that accompanied it. Or the sound of lessons being read aloud to the boy's familiar, the dragon correcting him here and there.
"I should have known," Merlin said into the silence, "that that boy would be trouble. From the minute I found out his cat was actually Charlemagne's son...."
The pair of them were rebellious spirits; the dragon had run away from home, and the boy, so far as Merlin knew, had never had one. He had hoped to instill some sense of decorum into the starveling boy literally raised by his own familiar; some sense of what was right, and proper, and what a wizard's priorities should be.
In hindsight, he'd been destined to failure before he'd even taken the boy in. No matter how much potential Hisirdoux had, it was never going to be properly aimed at the defense of humans. Not when they'd cast him out and a dragon had taken him in.
At the time, he'd thought Hisirdoux's clear love for his familiar was right and proper for a wizard. Now, Merlin saw that it was the seed which had grown, over centuries, to the wild vine which would unlock ancient horrors hidden away and revisit them upon mankind.
Closing the map, and closing his eyes in momentary sorrow, Merlin walked down the steps, past the round worktable, and considered the painting which hung on the wall: a stern master wizard, and his two apprentices, former and current. One an accomplished sorceress, the other a mere disaster of a boy. He'd once hoped... but no.
Shaking his head, Merlin waved his hand, revealing the older portrait which lay beneath: a smiling black-haired man, with blue eyes. A graceful brown-haired woman, plump and merry, leaning against his shoulder. And both of them together holding a boy, his hair brown like his mother's and his eyes blue like his father's, who could not have been more than eight. A happy family.
A family long gone.
"Oh, my dears," Merlin said, tracing the shape of his wife's face with his finger. Petting his son's curly hair. "What advice would you give me? I cannot deal with the boy. And the map insists I cannot stop him. But neither can I let him endanger the world."
"What," Merlin asked the dead, "should I do?"
Douxie's bus pass got him far enough out of town that his destination was only a couple miles away. He regarded the cracked asphalt and asked his familiar, whose head popped out of his backpack, "Walk or skateboard, you think?"
"Mmm. Walk," Archie replied. "I don't like the look of that pavement."
Douxie sighed. "Me neither." He tucked his skateboard under his arm and pulled a baseball cap out of his backpack, settling its brim to keep the sunlight out of his eyes. "At least it's not far."
"And I reiterate yet again that brooms are the superior method of transportation," said Archie, electing to remain in the backpack but drape paws across Douxie's shoulder. "No exhaust fumes, no need to worry about the condition of the ground."
"I'm not disagreeing," said Douxie. "But I'm also pointing out that we're trying not to be obvious."
"Yes, yes." Archie waved it off as a car zoomed past them.
Within half an hour they were turning off the highway and walking up the dirt and gravel road that led to the Triple-H Ranch. "Halloo the house," Douxie hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth, once they got close enough to be heard.
But it wasn't from the house that someone emerged, but rather one of the outbuildings. The man was in his thirties, tall, solidly built, with reddish-brown hair and beard. And shadowing him was a horse so black the sunlight got lost in its hide.
Archie shifted to dragon form and flew over to the horse as Douxie and the man drew closer to each other. He and the horse sniffed carefully at one another, then bumped foreheads together before Archie settled onto the horse's back. Douxie side-eyed him, but refrained from commenting; he wouldn't get on the kelpie's back for a mountain of gold, but apparently dragons were exempt from horrible drowning death.
Archie and the demon horse watched as the two humans reached each other and engaged in an enthusiastic embrace. "Good to see you, Hiccup," Douxie said.
"You don't write, you don't call... if it wasn't for texting, I'd think you were ignoring me," the man said.
Douxie laughed. "Hardly, Henry. You're just a bit far out. Where's Astrid?" he asked, looking around.
"Dropping the kids off at school then going to work."
"They're that old already?"
"Zeph is. The squidge is in preschool when Daddy's got business, which this counts as."
"I should get out here more often," said Douxie.
"Yes, you should," Henry replied, and draped a arm over Douxie's shoulder. "So, now that you are here, what brings you knocking on my door?"
"Need to make some armor," Douxie replied as the not-a-horse wandered up to him. "Hey, Tannlaus," he said, offering his hand for a snuffle. "Don't bite," he said, narrowing his eyes as his wrist was mouthed.
"He doesn't, anymore."
"Oh, so you've managed to teach him some manners," said the dragon sitting on the not-a-horse's back.
The not-a-horse looked innocent.
"You're not very convincing," Douxie told him.
Tannlaus huffed, and stalked off, Archie still on his back.
"Come on into the house," said Henry. "Let's talk armor."
The mustache-bearing goblin finally found its quarry, stalking back and forth in a large arena where a nyarlagroth lay writhing on the ground. At the end of every circuit, Gunmar dealt the dying creature another blow, resulting in a deafening screech and an accompanying splash of acrid glowing blue fluid.
The dark lord was covered in it, from horn to hoof.
The goblin hesitated to approach while Gunmar was in a mood, but eventually concluded that Gunmar was always in a mood, and its chances of survival would be better at no other time.
It scurried up and began muttering apologies and oblations; it had news from the daylight world that the dark lord might wish to know.
He snarled at it, then demanded "Well?"
The goblin grinned, then shared what it had learned.
Gunmar's good eye narrowed, then he threw back his head and bellowed a laugh. "A king?" he asked contemptuously. "They hope to defeat me with a king?" His roar shook the stalactites; pebbles and dust rained down. "Let them try," he informed the now-cowering goblin. "Arthur died like the pathetic whelp he was; this new king will fare no better."
The goblin bowed and then, not being as stupid as some of its brethren, got away while the getting was good.
"So," Henry said, pushing a glass of lemonade across the table at Douxie, "what kind of armor are we talking?"
"Two sets. Functional and preferably enchanted," Douxie replied, digging his notebook out of his backpack, opening it, and sliding it across the table. His best recollection of Claire's armor was drawn there from three sides: front, side, and back.
"Fancy," Henry commented, studying it. The purple coloration was unusual, but wouldn't be too hard to enchant. It was obviously for a girl, and he'd need her here to fit it properly, but none of the individual pieces were overly difficult. "But doable. And the second set?"
A grimace crossed the wizard's face. "I'm less certain on that one, and would welcome your recommendations," Douxie said. "Next page."
Henry flipped the page and looked at it for a long minute. When he looked back up, his expression was grave. "Douxie," he asked quietly, "why do you need armor?"
Douxie sighed. "That... is a long story."
Henry looked at him flatly. "I have time."
Douxie sighed again and picked up his glass, fingers worrying at the condensation beads. "There's going to be an apocalypse or three centered on Arcadia Oaks in the next couple years."
Henry's green eyes widened. "An... apocalypse?"
Douxie nodded. "The first one shouldn't get out this far. Gunmar the Black will escape from the Darklands. We're assembling the team to deal with him. Which is what we need armor for," he said, nodding at the notebook. "The second one... well," he said with a thin smile, "if you want to make any bets on aliens being real, do them now and collect after the summer's up."
"Aliens?" Henry choked. "Are you talking about an invasion?"
But to his relief, Douxie shook his head. "No. There's a war for another planet being fought - its rightful rulers are going to take refuge here, and the usurper is going to send forces after them. Not to mention," he added with an eyeroll, "Area 49-B's charming response to extraterrestrial life. But, again, none of that should get this far out of town."
Henry wet his lips. "Okay. And the third one?"
Douxie's face grew serious. "Heard of the Arcane Order?"
The room suddenly felt cold. "I have," Henry said.
"They want the Genesis Seals," Douxie said softly. "They want to make the world anew."
Douxie... could joke and tease about a lot of things. And he'd always jumped without looking where he was going to land, for as long as Henry had known him. But, and this was important, he didn't lie.
Henry looked across the dining room table at the man who'd told him he had magic. Who had been his first teacher. Who had taught him the very spell that had saved his life and gained him a kelpie companion.
He drew a breath. "We'll want to use an alloy of platinum and dwarf copper for some engraved spell inlays," he said, fingers tapping at the rough sketch of armor. "It holds magic better than just about anything. This will all need to be as lightweight as possible, given the way you move. The greaves are a good idea, but we'll want asymmetricality on the arms - you'll need to be able to access your charm bracelet, so I'll do a vambrace on the right only."
"No gauntlets," Douxie said. "I need my hands free."
Henry nodded and grabbed a pencil from the coffee cup full of them, making notes on the page, sketching new lines over Douxie's hesitant ones. "Helmet?"
Douxie hesitated, then nodded. "Barbara would kill me if I didn't."
"Barbara?"
"Doctor Barbara Lake. I'm living with her and her son - who I need to introduce you to."
Barbara Lake. That sounded familiar... oh. "Is she in one of Astrid's Krav Maga classes?" Henry asked. "I remember the name, anyway."
Douxie grinned. "Small world. Or, at least, small town."
"So what's the son's deal?"
Douxie's grin grew worryingly wider. "James Lake Junior. A divine king."
Henry stared.
Then he pushed his chair back from the table and made his way to the kitchen cabinets. To the highest shelf of the cabinet, from which he pulled down a bottle of clear liquid and two very small cups. He returned to the table, set cups and bottle down, unscrewed the lid, and poured them each a drink. He tossed his akavit back as Douxie did the same, then looked the wizard dead in the eye. "Tell me," he said.
"So there's trolls and goblins and wizards and who knows what else out there?" Steve buried his head in his hands. "This is worse than multiple-choice tests!"
"So when do we get to go to Trollmarket?" Darci asked, ignoring Steve's dramatics.
"Uh...." Jim looked at Toby and Claire. "The thing I'm doing there today is kind of personal. Tobes, Claire, do you think you could show them around?"
"Aww, I wanted to find out how trolls get their carvings!" Toby complained.
Jim glared. "Personal," he repeated. "Meaning private. Meaning me and Blinky, maybe Aaarrrgghh, and Vendel. No one else allowed."
"Why not just say sacred?" Claire asked him. "And, sure. Toby and I can play tour guides after school."
"Sweet." Mary looked up from her phone. "Is Douxie going to be there?"
"Nah," Toby answered. "He said he had to see a man with a horse about something. Anyway, Claire, I can't go today, so you get to tour-guide on your own."
"Why, what's up?"
He grimaced, but a grin snuck through it. "Dental appointment."
"Aw, man, that sucks!" said Steve.
"Ooh, getting your braces off?" Claire asked, gesturing at Toby's mouth.
"At long last," he sighed happily. "Had to reschedule a couple times because of... things."
"Hey, remember what happened last time you got them off?" Jim asked.
Toby held up his hand in a boy scout swear. "Candy and snacks in moderation only, I promise." He shuddered. "I don't want headgear again."
Darci blinked. "Again?"
"Ahh... long story," Toby told her. "I'll tell you another time. Promise!"
Her expression was dubious, but she relented. "All right."
Claire looked around the expanded lunch group, and blanched as she suddenly realized she was going to have to ride herd on four Trollmarket newbies. One of whom was Mary (enthusiastic), one of whom was Eli (enthusiastic in a different direction) and one of whom was Steve (enthusiastically the village idiot). "Darci," she said, clutching at her friend's sleeve. "You gotta help me with this. They're going to go nuts."
"Uh... sure?"
"Blinky sure about this?" Aaarrrgghh asked.
Blinky drew a deep breath, steadying himself. "I am sure," he answered his bosom companion. "Jim will require the edge of his half-troll form to aid in the battle with Gunmar, and there is none who has better right to my own stone than my son."
"I could offer," said Aaarrrgghh. He patted his own arm. "Krubera. Hurts less."
"Yes, but...." Blinky tried to gather his thoughts. They were scattering like an intrusion of gnomes brought to light. He hadn't been this nervous about getting the carvings that marked him as an adult; though he'd known that receiving them would be painful, he'd borne that agony with pride. "The humans have a saying about the pound of flesh nearest the heart," he said, "which I feel this is."
"Don't have hearts," Aaarrrgghh observed.
"Physically, no," agreed Blinky, patting his own chest. "Emotionally, however, we two species are twinned; heirs to the same heart-ache and thousand natural shocks, indeed!"
Aaarrrgghh waited.
Blinky sighed and lowered himself into a seat, patting one of the thousands of books that formed his library. "I fear that I shall be found wanting," he confessed. "That even with my contribution, Master Jim shall not regain that which he has lost. I fear that my cowardice shall taint, and indeed infect, the amulet which I have never been worthy of."
"Blinky not coward," objected Aaarrrgghh.
"Oh, I am a coward, my friend," Blinky said, sighing. His fingers traced the symbols embossed on the Apis leather cover. "I may act brave, with a dwarkstone in hand, when my loved ones are threatened, but... no. I know myself too well, and all my failings. Were it not for love, I should cower and hide away in my library, never to be seen."
Aaarrrgghh's large hand covered Blinky's. "First rule of Trollhunting," he suggested.
Blinky managed a smile. "Always be afraid," he murmured. "Yes, I'm afraid I've got that one well mastered."
"Fear is but the precursor to valor," Aaarrrgghh added.
"Yes, yes. To strive and triumph in the face of fear is what it means to be a hero," Blinky said. "I remember. Yet have I striven? I have not. Have I triumphed? I have not."
"Made Jim hero," Aaarrrgghh pointed out. "That not triumph?"
"I suppose it is," Blinky relented.
"Everything until then, not striving?"
He cracked a smile. "I see what you are trying to do, my friend."
"Aaarrrgghh wrong?"
Blinky drew a breath, then another. "No," he said, looking up at his steadfast companion. "I suppose not. All of us have striven, and we all have triumphed, in our own ways."
"Blinky hero," said Aaarrrgghh, "and good father to hero. Should not worry. Amulet will know."
"I can only hope so," Blinky said, and, looking around, reassessed the state of his library. "I feel perhaps that it is time to admit defeat," he said, "and carve a new room, with more shelves."
Aaarrrgghh cracked a smile. "Told you."
"Yes, yes, you were right. You don't need to rub it in."
"Oh. My. God," Darci said, staring, and Claire knew she was going to be useless at keeping the others in check.
"Holy freaking-- are you seeing this, Pepperjack?"
"I have died," Eli whispered in response, staring. "I have literally died and gone to heaven."
"Hi, this is Mary, filming from one of the top-secret SFX stages for Into the Wild Woods," Mary was telling her phone in selfie mode.
Claire just looked at Jim. "I'm doomed," she told him.
"Yeah, kind of looks like it," he admitted. "But I seriously gotta go."
"Shoo," she told him with a gesture. "Go do your thing."
Jim looked beyond her, at the gaggle of gawking humans. "Actually," he said, pulling out his cellphone, "I suddenly have an idea."
Claire raised her eyebrow and waited as he dialed.
"Hey, Draal," Jim said, "you doing anything right now?"
"Ohmygosh," Steve gushed a few minutes later, on being introduced to the blue troll. "Dude, like what can you even bench?" He measured the circumference of Draal's bicep with both hands, then ducked around behind him to appreciatively examine his physique.
Draal looked questioningly at Claire.
She smiled then whistled sharply. "Steve!"
"Yes, ma'am?" He popped up from behind the troll.
"How about you introduce yourself before you start ogling my friend?"
"Oh! Yeah, sure!" He re-rounded Draal and stuck his hand out. "Steve Palchuk, quarterback and Spring Fling King."
Draal took the hand warily. "Draal the Deadly, son of Kanjigar the Courageous."
Steve's eyes widened and he whooped. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" he said, slinging an arm around Draal's neck. "Come on, Pepperjack! We manly warriors have things to talk about!"
"Well," Claire said, watching the trio wander off, "two down, only two left to shepherd." She turned back to her girlfriends, watching Mary wrap up her narrative.
"--and that's all for now!" the technomancer said to her phone. "We'll catch you later with more updates. Bye-bye!"
"All right, can we go now?" Darci said, vibrating like a restrained hummingbird. "I want to check out this place!"
"Yeah," Claire said, linking her arms through each of theirs, "let's go exploring."
Author's Note: Merlin referring to the Time Map as a complicated and temperamental artifact is a direct reference to the Trollhunters video game, which I gave to my kids for Christmas and they've been enjoying. The Time Map being insistent, long ago, on Douxie's importance is likely inspired by mikkal's [partial playlist] for when you're at a crossroads. Henry and Tannlaus are totally the ports of who you think they are. (Tannlaus is Icelandic for Toothless, per google translate.) From the minute I realized Douxie was going to have to forge Claire's armor this time around, I knew who I was going to have help with that. ^_^ Claire's final line in this chapter is a nod to the very last Calvin and Hobbes strip ("It's a magical world, Hobbes, ol' buddy... let's go exploring!"). Blinky references The Merchant of Venice, and Hamlet, both by William Shakespeare. Also, fun note: when I went searching for a group name for gnomes, I actually looked up what a group of cockroaches is called. An "intrusion" indeed....
