Craig Shaw Gardner - Wuntvor 02 - An Excess Of Enchantments

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An Excess Of Enchantments

Verse the Second in The Ballad of Wuntvor

Craig Shaw Gardner

ONE

"Things are not always what they seem."

--Words (which some expected to be his

last) spoken by Ebenezum, greatest

wizard of the Western Kingdoms, when he

was discovered in close and personal

consultation with Queen Vivazia of

Humboldt by the queen's husband, King

Snerdlot the Vengeful. Unfortunately,

the following statements made by the

king to his elite assassin guards, as

well as the reply uttered by the wizard

as he climbed down the battlements of

Humboldt castle in his nightshirt,

have been lost to posterity.

Once upon a time, in a land very, very far away, there traveled a

young lad who wanted to see the world. Now this lad's name was

Wuntvor, and he wished to be an adventurer and visit that distant

place from which every morning came the sun. As he grew toward

manhood, he would look out his bedroom window

each dawn as he awoke, and watch the sun rise. He began to think of

it as his friend, and he imagined the blazing orb beckoned to him,

calling Wuntvor to come and see its home.

So it was that Wuntvor left his native land and journeyed east. He

walked for many days, until the days turned into weeks, but Wuntvor

did not despair, for he was young and his heart was pure. The weeks

became months, and still Wuntvor traveled on, for, although the sun

seemed no closer than when he started, he knew that if he but tried

hard enough and long enough, he would reach his goal.

Still, the way was long and tiring, with hills and mountains to climb

and rivers and oceans to cross. Even one as young and pure of heart

as Wuntvor found himself doubting the wisdom of his journey from time

to time. So it was on a particular evening, when the sun had

journeyed all the way from its home in the east to its resting place

in the west. Wuntvor was weary from his day's march, and decided to

camp in a secluded glen by the side of a babbling brook. He spread

out his bedroll and ate a meagre meal of bread and cheese, listening

to the night-birds overhead.

"Alas," he said at last, more to himself than to the birds. "Will I

never find the home of the sun?"

And a voice answered him:

"Why ever would you want to do that?"

Wuntvor started, realizing that the voice came from a small man who

stood by his knee. After he caught his breath, Wuntvor answered:

"It is what I have always dreamed of. It is my heart's desire."

"Really?" said the small man, who was dressed all in brown and

sported a pair of translucent brown wings. "Well then, you have come

to the right place."

"And just what place have I come to?" Wuntvor inquired.

"Why," the little fellow said with a big smile, "you have come to f-

f-fairyland--" He had quite some difficulty pronouncing the word, "--

of course."

"Of course," Wuntvor agreed. "And if this is fairyland, who are you?"

"Why, I am--" The little fellow paused and frowned. "If this is f-f-

f-fair-fairyland--" The fellow paused again. His face

had turned a bright blue. He took a breath and resumed his speech.

"If this is--uh--that place, then I must be a f-f--" His two tiny

fists shot into the air. "I am no such thing. I am a Brownie! And

proud of it! More than proud! In smallness there is greatness!

Brownies forever!"

Wuntvor blinked. Something was wrong here. An old lady stormed down

the hill. She did not look happy.

It was then that I remembered where I was.

"No! No! No!" the old lady screamed.

I was in the Eastern Kingdoms, but I had not come here to follow the

sun. Rather, I was on a mission of some sort, sent here by my master,

the great wizard Ebenezum. Unfortunately, several things had gone

wrong. I remembered that, also.

"Can't you even get a simple fairy tale straight?" the old lady

demanded. I recognized her now! Her name was Mother Duck. And she was

the reason I had been sent to the Eastern Kingdoms!

"I beg your pardon," the small fellow in brown said drily. I knew

this person too! His name was Tap! It was all coming back to me at

once, as if I had just awoken from a dream.

The little fellow added:

"I do not do fairy tales."

"Is that so?" the old woman queried, her index finger stabbing at the

wee man. "No one talks that way to Mother Duck!"

The little fellow took a step back as he hesitantly replied, "I--I

would do a Brownie tale!"

"Would you now?" Mother Duck replied. "Well, this is my kingdom and

these are my stories. And what we do in this kingdom is make up fairy

tales--whether you like it or not. You'll become a part of my

stories, and you will like it!" Her mouth twisted into a cruel grin.

"We'll just have to make the spell a little stronger."

"Never!" the Brownie bravely retorted. "No spell is as strong as

Brownie pride!"

"We'll see." Mother Duck stared intently at the little fellow.

"I am sorry," Tap insisted, doing his best to ignore the old lady's

stare, "but I am a Brownie, and will be until my--uh, that is--I am--

uh, aren't I--um--welcome to fairyland, home

of the happy-go-lucky fairies! Like me!"

Tap tried to perform a happy-go-lucky skip, with little success. He

didn't look happy at all.

"Very well," Mother Duck remarked with a heavy sigh. "That's one

problem taken care of." She regarded me critically. "I trust you are

going to be cooperative?" She turned her gaze from me to look to the

heavens. "Why must I suffer so for my art? Why can't they understand

what I'm trying to create?"

I didn't know what to do. I remembered now that I had been sent here

by my master to try to win Mother Duck over to our side in the war

with the demons of the Netherhells, who were using their fearsome

Conquest by Committee in an attempt to take over the surface world.

However, once we had arrived in the Eastern Kingdoms, we learned from

one of our allies, His Brownieship, King of all the Brownies, that

Mother Duck had already signed a pact with our enemies.

Unfortunately, it had been too late to escape. We were cap-aired, and

I was carried away by a clumsy giant named Richard to take part in

something Mother Duck called her "Storybook." Was that where I was

now? I had seen Tap the Brownie, but what had happened to my other

companions? This Storybook didn't seem so bad. There must be some way

to escape, some way to ...

I looked up to see Mother Duck staring at me. My mouth opened of its

own volition, and I began to speak words over which I had no control.

"Once upon a time," my mouth said, and again: "Once upon a time."

"Excuse me," a deep voice sounded from behind me.

I blinked. My mouth snapped shut. The spell was broken.

"What is it?" Mother Duck demanded. "Can't you see I'm creating?"

"Sorry," the voice said. "I was looking for Mother Duck."

"Well, you've found her!" The woman's tone was filled with rage.

"Oh," the voice replied. "So pleased to meet you."

I tore my eyes away from Mother Duck and turned to regard the

newcomer. He was not at all what I expected. For one thing, he was

totally covered with thick brown hair. For another,

he appeared to be built like an animal, although he was standing on

his hind legs. He wore no clothes, save for a green cap inscribed

with the words: "Do it again, Celtics!" If I didn't know better, I

would have sworn this creature was more animal than human. In fact, I

would have sworn he was--

"My name is Wolf," the hairy newcomer said.

Exactly.

"I can see that," Mother Duck replied. Her anger seemed to have

abated somewhat. Even she was taken aback by the animal's manner.

"Jeffrey Wolf, to be precise," the newcomer continued rapidly. "And I

think you'll be glad you met me."

"I certainly hope so," Mother Duck said, "for your sake."

"For both our sakes," Jeffrey replied smoothly. "I trust I've come to

the right place. You are the Mother Duck who does fairy tales?"

The old woman laughed through her nose. "No one else would dare to

call themselves Mother Duck."

"Quite assuredly." Jeffrey smiled, showing two rows of very sharp

teeth. "I like a woman who knows who she is and what she wants. And

what you need in your fairy tales is a talking wolf! Just think of

it! What an opportunity!"

"Possibly," Mother Duck agreed, slowly. "I won't kill you just yet,

then. A talking wolf? Not as good as an Eternal Apprentice, but I

suppose it does have possibilities."

The Eternal Apprentice! The words came rushing at me with the force

of a winter wind in July. So there were still other things I had yet

to remember. Like the fact that I had met Death on my way to the

Eastern Kingdoms, and he had called me the Eternal Apprentice, a

person destined to always aid heroes, a person who furthermore was

clumsy but lovable, and who was always accompanied by any numbe"r of

companions. And the dread apparition also told me that this

apprentice was someone who could not truly die, but instead, as soon

as his earthly body expired, would be reborn into another body, so

that his soul would always be free from Death. Unless, of course,

Death caught that person alone and snatched that person in that

instant to his grave.

I remembered now how barely I had escaped the foul fiend.

What else had I forgotten from my past? And if this Eternal

Apprentice thing was true, how did I know that Death would not come

and snatch me while I was under one of Mother Duck's spells?

I could not let this woman control me again. I would have to escape,

and somehow reunite with my other companions. But how could I get

away? We seemed to be surrounded by forest. I realized I had no idea

quite where I was. I would have to wait, and hope that something

Mother Duck said would give me a clue.

"I'm glad you see how valuable a talking wolf could be!" Jeffrey said

when Mother Duck stopped scowling. "When do I start work?"

"What?" Mother Duck demanded. "When do you start work? As soon as I

decide that I shouldn't have the giants carry you away to bake you in

their bread!"

"But, madam!" Jeffrey waved both his forepaws, entreating the old

woman to listen to reason. "I'm the opportunity of a lifetime! Think

of it! A talking wolf! What symbolism! What possibility for

metaphor!"

"What an ingredient for the giants' bakery," Mother Duck replied

summarily. "Richard!" she shouted. "Oh, Richard!"

I heard a rumbling in the distance. I had hoped to somehow escape

while Mother Duck and the wolf argued. But Richard had captured me

before. I knew there was nowhere I could run where the giant would

not find me again.

The rumbling grew closer and louder, so that I discerned that it was

really two noises, one a repeated pounding, as if someone was

dropping Bog Womblers from a great height to fall upon the earth

below. The second noise was a repeated crashing, as Richard

accidentally crushed everything in the vicinity of his path.

The wolf did not look at all happy about this turn of events. "Who,"

he inquired, somewhat hysterically, "is Richard?"

"Oops!" a great voice declared from high overhead. Richard had

arrived.

"Richard?" Mother Duck inquired of her very large lackey.

"I'm sorry I asked," the wolf moaned. "I'll just be going--"

"I hope you didn't need that cottage back there," Richard

pleaded. "It was right next to that muddy river bank, and my foot

slipped ever so slightly--"

"Don't worry about it, Richard," interrupted Mother Duck, her voice

tinged with fatigue. "I can have the dwarves build another. In the

meantime, I have a job for you."

"Let's not be hasty, now," Jeffrey interjected. "I have too great a

talent to be baked away!"

"You also have too big a mouth." Mother Duck pointed at Jeffrey.

"Richard, make sure the wolf stays quiet while I work. If not--"

The giant grinned. "Whole wolf bread."

"Exactly," the old lady agreed. "Understand. I must have silence when

I create! Now--" She paused to look at me.

What could I say? There must be some way to keep from coming under

her spell again. What would my master have done? Argued with her,

probably. Attempted to get her to see reason. Very well, that was

what I would have to do as well. I opened my mouth. "Indeed--," I

began.

But the next words that came out were, "Once upon a time."

Once upon a time. Once upon a time.

TWO

"There are two sides to every issue."

--Words (which some were surprised he

was still alive to speak) uttered by

Ebenezum the Wizard to the elite

assassin guards of King Snerdlot the

Vengeful, after the king decided to

question the parentage of some of his

offspring by Queen Vivazia, who did have

a habit of long and personal

consultations with gentlemen wearing

wizard's robes. Few realize, however,

that the fleeing Ebenezum was at the

time disguised as a costermonger

(although on closer inspection his garb

might have passed for a wizard's

nightshirt), and furthermore, that he

managed to cast Gleebzum's Spell of

Universal Guilt among the assassins,

which caused them to spend the rest of that afternoon

repeatedly arresting each other.

Once upon a time, a young lad named Wuntvor traveled far from his

native land, seeing the sights and having many adventures. So it was

that he came over a hill and saw a bright and verdant valley spread

before him. Brilliant sunlight shone down on green trees and golden

crops, and Wuntvor thought that he had never seen a place as

beautiful as this in all his travels.

He left the hilltop and began his descent into the valley. But he had

not gone a dozen paces before he saw a handpainted sign hanging from

one of the beautiful, green trees. And on that sign, in large red

letters, someone had painted a single word:

DANGER.

Wuntvor paused for a moment, and stared at the sign. Was someone

trying to warn him? But danger of what? And where could any danger be

on such a fine day as this?

So Wuntvor continued upon his way, whistling merrily as he studied

the wildflowers that bordered the path on either side. He came to a

broad field of wild grass and clover, and saw that on the far side of

that field wound a lazy blue river.

Wuntvor looked along the trail he followed, and noted that in the

distance it led to a narrow bridge that crossed the wide expanse of

water. Well then, he thought to himself, that is the way that I must

go. But he had not walked a dozen paces before he found that a giant

boulder blocked his way. And on that boulder was painted a single

word, in red letters three feet high:

BEWARE.

Wuntvor paused for a long moment to regard the message on the

boulder. This was the second warning he had received since he had

entered the valley. But what were these messages trying to tell him?

What, or whom, should he beware of?

At length, Wuntvor decided that it was much too fine a day to beware

of anything. Let the fates do what they must, he thought. On a sunny

afternoon like this, he could best whatever was thrown in his path!

And with that, Wuntvor skirted the boulder and continued down the

trail to the bridge. He had not gone a dozen paces, however, before a

large man stepped out from behind a concealing hedge. Wuntvor studied

the newcomer with some surprise, since he was the largest man the

young lad had ever seen, being massive in girth as well as height.

The large fellow was

dressed in a bronze breastplate, which was somewhat dented and

tarnished, and wore an elaborate winged helmet on top of his massive

head. He raised a giant club above his head, and uttered but a single

word:

"DOOM."

Wuntvor took a step away, being somewhat taken aback by this new turn

of events. Was this the danger that the first sign spoke of? Was this

what he had to beware of, as the boulder had cautioned? Yet the large

man did not attack. Instead, he simply stood there, the giant club

still raised above his massive head.

"Pardon?" Wuntvor said after a moment.

"What?" the large man asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Wuntvor expanded.

"Oh," the large man answered. "Doom."

"Yes," Wuntvor prompted. "But what kind of doom?"

"Oh," the large man answered again. "Down at the bridge."

Wuntvor smiled. Now he was getting somewhere! "What about the

bridge?"

"Doom," the large man replied.

But Wuntvor wasn't about to give up. "At the bridge?" he prompted

again.

The large man nodded his head and lowered his club.

'That's where the danger is?" Wuntvor added. "That's where I have to

beware?"

The large man continued to nod.

"But what is the danger?" Wuntvor insisted. "What do I have to beware

of?"

"Doom," the large man insisted.

Wuntvor began to despair of ever getting any real answers out of the

large fellow. He gazed down the path at the distant bridge. It

certainly looked peaceful enough. Just what was this big fellow

trying to warn him about? Wuntvor decided he would try to gain a

definite answer one more time.

"Indeed," he began, for there was something reassuring to Wuntvor

about beginning sentences in this way, "you tell me that my doom

waits on yon bridge?"

The large fellow nodded again, smiling that Wuntvor had understood

his plea.

"And yet," Wuntvor continued, "there is no way that you might explain

to me what that doom is?"

The large fellow shook his head sadly.

"Doom," he agreed.

"Why not?" Wuntvor demanded, upset with this turn of events.

The large fellow looked all around. When he was convinced they were

all alone he spoke to Wuntvor in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I am here as a warning," was all he said.

Wuntvor bit his lip so that he would not scream. After he had

regained his composure, he asked:

"But can't you at least inform me what you are warning me about?"

"Doom," the large fellow replied sadly.

"Why?" Wuntvor demanded.

"Because that is the way fairy tales work," the large fellow

answered.

Wuntvor blinked. Fairy tales? What was this about fairy tales? The

lad felt some faint memory stirring at the back of his brain. A word

floated toward his consciousness. Mother. Mother what? Of course, now

he remem--

"Once upon a time." Wuntvor's lips moved, saying words he could have

sworn he never thought. "Once upon a time."

He shook his head violently and stared at the large man again. "Can

you tell me nothing about the bridge?"

"Doom," the immense fellow pondered. "Perhaps I can ask you a

question or two. Would you by any chance have a good deal of gold?"

At last! Wuntvor thought, I shall get some information.

"No," he answered. "I am but a penniless traveler, out to seek my

fortune in the world."

"Doom," the other responded. "Still, all is not yet lost. Are you

good at riddles?"

What was this large fellow talking about? "Riddles?" Wuntvor

demanded. "What do riddles have to do with anything?"

"Doom," the immense one replied, nodding to himself as if he had

confirmed something he'd known all along. "I suggest

you turn around and go the other way, unless you fancy yourself as

troll fodder."

And with that, the large fellow turned and disappeared behind a

sizable hedge.

"Indeed," Wuntvor mumbled to no one in particular. Somehow, he did

not feel he had gained much information at all.

But after a moment's thought, Wuntvor decided to go to the bridge

anyway. After all, hadn't he left his native land to seek adventure?

He had the feeling that this bridge he was approaching, as small and

innocent looking as it was, might contain so much adventure that he

could return home immediately after crossing it.

He was not a dozen paces from the bridge when he heard a voice.

"Ho, young traveler! We have advice: If you want to cross, You will

pay a price."

And with that, a horrible creature leapt from beneath the bridge and

landed less than a dozen paces away from the startled Wuntvor. The

creature's skin was a bright shade of yellowish-green, but that was

nowhere near as startling as the horrible fact that it wore clothing

filled with purple and green checks, not to mention that it held a

brown, smoking thing between its teeth.

The creature removed the brown, smoking thing (which was quite foul

smelling besides) from between its jaws, and spoke again.

"Now that you're here You won't get old, Unless you give This troll

some gold."

"Indeed," Wuntvor replied. So this, at last, was what he was being

warned about. Wuntvor thought, somehow, that he should feel more

cheered by finally learning the truth. The truth,

though, left something to be desired.

The hideously garbed creature smiled with even more teeth than a

creature like that should have, and sauntered toward the lad. Wuntvor

decided that what he mostly wished at this precise moment was that

the large fellow he had so recently spoken with had been more

specific in his details of the danger's exact nature, so that Wuntvor

might be currently pursuing his adventures in an entirely different

location from where he was at present.

The creature pointed at Wuntvor. More specifically, its sharp yellow

claws pointed at Wuntvor's belt as it spoke again.

"Gold need not be My only reward, I'll take instead Your meagre

sword!"

Wuntvor looked down at his belt. He had a sword? It came as a total

surprise to him. Shouldn't a person remember if he was wearing a

sword?

Well, he reasoned, as long as he had a sword, he might as well defend

himself.

"What are you doing?" the sword screamed as Wuntvor yanked it from

the scabbard.

The sword spoke! Wuntvor almost dropped the weapon. He definitely

should have remembered a sword that could talk. The lad frowned.

Something, he thought, is not as it seems.

"I would like an answer," the sword insisted. "As your personal

weapon, I think it's the least I deserve."

"Indeed," Wuntvor responded, wishing to grant the magic sword's

wishes. "I was merely drawing you forth to slay yon horrible

creature."

"Merely?" the sword began, but whatever it had to say next was lost

beneath the creature's new rhyme.

"Ho, young traveler, Your valour growing. Sad to say, I must be

going."

And with that, the garishly garbed creature dove under the bridge.

"Merely?" the enchanted blade repeated.

Wuntvor glared at the sword. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Is that a trick question?" the sword responded, a suspicious edge to

its voice.

"Nay," Wuntvor insisted, although he doubted, under the

circumstances, that he would know a trick question even if he spoke

it. "I fear I am under a spell of forgetfulness, and hoped that a

magic sword might know the truth."

"Why didn't you say so?" The sword brightened perceptibly. Wuntvor

had to shield his eyes not to be blinded by the glow.

"That's exactly what we magic swords are for," the blade continued.

"My name is Cuthbert, and I'm a first-class example of sorcerous

weaponry. What else do you need to know? Your name is Wuntvor. You do

remember that? Good. Do you recall that you are on a quest for your

master--Hey!"

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摘要：

AnExcessOfEnchantmentsVersetheSecondinTheBalladofWuntvorCraigShawGardnerONE"Thingsarenotalwayswhattheyseem."--Words(whichsomeexpectedtobehislast)spokenbyEbenezum,greatestwizardoftheWesternKingdoms,whenhewasdiscoveredincloseandpersonalconsultationwithQueenVivaziaofHumboldtbythequeen'shusband,KingSner...

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Craig Shaw Gardner - Wuntvor 02 - An Excess Of Enchantments

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