The Tale of Magweed and Griffin - Tales of the Parodyverse

“Finny?” she prodded.

“Okay… the coast is clear” the voice whispered. “And don’t call me ‘Finny’.”

“Why are you whispering?” the young girl asked in a hushed voice, climbing out the window and lowering herself down to the mossy earth below. “Nobody but me can hear you anyway.”

“I… um…” he replied snappily “Well, if I didn’t whisper, then you’d forget to whisper back, and then there’d be trouble.”

“Would not” she argued, creeping towards the underbrush of the glade that circled the cottage from a respectful distance.

“What? You’re going to argue out loud with your imaginary friend about how well you keep quiet?”

She huffed as she made it to the cover of the trees and moved silently along the forest floor. “If you were a decent imaginary friend, you’d be able to read my mind and I wouldn’t have to speak out loud to you… so there.”

“Hey, how is that my fault? I didn’t imagine myself up.”

“It just usually is” she observed. “Besides, I’m thinking of trying to imagine up a dragon… that’s really much better than an invisible bird-lion-thing.”

“Griffin!” he insisted. “I’m not a bird-lion thing! I’m a disembodied griffin!”

“I thought Griffin was your name… Griffin the invisible bird-lion thing. Really, ‘Finny’ sounds so much better.”

“It does not! It sounds like something you’d name a fish!”

“Hmmm… maybe I don’t want an imaginary dragon after all…” she considered. “Maybe I want one of those sea pony thingies… The hippohorses.”

“What?” he cried. “You can’t possibly think a hippocampus is cooler than a griffin!”

“Finny the hippohorsey” she tested. “Yes, I think I’ll start working on imagining you’re one of those right away.” She looked back over her shoulder towards the voice she could only sense. “And Griff?”

“Yeah?” he grumbled, perturbed.

“You’re being all loud… and I’m still whispering.”

The Fairy Princess Magweed scrambled over the deadwood branches and under the bramble bushes with practiced ease as she followed a forest trail that existed more in theory than in reality. She found the moonlit night air exhilarating, and the chill that cut through her crude, baggy nightdress was simply another part of the adventure.

“Slow down, or you’ll get your feet all cut up… you’re not wearing any shoes” Griffin worried.

“I don’t own any shoes” she argued.

“And what does that tell you about how much you’re supposed to go tromping around through the forest? Besides, if Auntie sees your legs all scraped up, she’ll know you’ve been sneaking out at night again.”

That brought her up quickly enough. There were few things in life one took more seriously than the threat of Auntie knowing what one was really up to. “I can find the way with my eyes closed” she argued, although she started off again in a much more cautious tread. “And we’re already running late… they’ll have started without us.”

“They can’t start without you… You’re performing the…” he broke off suddenly. “Maggie!” he hissed. “Down!”

There was no hesitation nor hint of defiance in her haste to obey the tense order. In a flash she was flat on her stomach, her head and ear pressed against the moist loam of the woodland floor. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

She heard it now… A rustling, loping gate through the fallen leaves. The ragged breathing that accompanied it sounded thick with spittle, making for a throaty rasp with every great and horrible breath the creature sucked in. The gothenmanders were out tonight.

“It’s about fifty paces away to your right” Griffin’s voice informed her tensely from above. He had no need to duck from sight, after all. “It’s Scumsucker… I don’t think he’s onto your smell. I think he’s just making a regular hunt… Auntie didn’t send him to look for you.”

She always had an irrational fear that one day other people would prove able to hear Griffin after all… and that it would happen when he was calling one of Auntie’s ravening gothenmanders by the names the two of them had made up for each of them. Somehow, she didn’t imagine the beasts being as tickled by the them as the little girl and her friend were… but then, silly names only did so much to tame your worst fears.

“He’s heading away… Stay down and let me follow him for a bit to be sure.”

She lost track of how long she laid there with her heart thumping in her ears, wishing Griff would return. It was more than long enough to make the chill of the night seem far less adventurous. Unbidden, her mind kept replaying the night, five years ago, when she first ran afoul of the mindless predators of the forest. She had run, and they had given chase, trapping her within a hollowed log which she had clambered into for safety. There she cowered, screaming, while the beasts had slowly torn their way through each end by tooth and nail to get to her. If Auntie hadn’t come when she did…

She suppressed a shudder, not wanting to dare move so visibly. She did, however, open her eyes to stare straight ahead, viewing the world sideways. The moonlight poking through the thick canopy above resulted in pale shafts of light standing among the trees like ghostly birch trunks… a phantom forest overlaying the already enchanted one. Such a mix was a bad omen.

“Beware the mixings of magics” Auntie would often say, sitting by the fire in their little cottage, endlessly knitting something that steadfastly refused to ever become a stocking, or cap, or scarf… Tellingly, it existed entirely to be knit. “It’s an ill-natured arrangement to be laying spells at cross purposes, and the world will simply not have it.” She would lean forward, and stare down her long nose with small, dark eyes. “You should always count your blessings, Dearie, and remember where they came from. After all, if you cross their nature, the world might not have you.”

Movement caught her eye, and she looked in alarm to where two small balls of color with tiny wings danced in the moonlight, weaving through the moonbeams with high pitched giggling. They came up short when they saw her unmoving form.

“Hey! Look, Tatl… A princess must have fallen out of its nest!” one observed, bobbing with curiosity inches from her face.

“Don’t touch it, Navi!” the other cried. “If you do, its mother won’t take it back.”

“Listen! I know what’s what!” the first scolded. “Besides, this one was human… its mother obviously didn’t want it.”

“I can’t say as I blame it… Human children are all dirty and sticky, I hear. It was nice of the Lady to take this one in” Tatl agreed. “And the Lady is hardly ever nice.”

“Hey!!” Navi suddenly yelled. “Race ya to the the river!” And like that the two balls of light shot off.

“What was that all about?” Griffin’s voice sounded nearby with disapproval. “You weren’t talking to flibbertigibbets, were you? Oh… and you can get up now.”

“I was waiting for you” Maggie explained, swallowing the remnants of her fear as she rose and shakily dusted the dried leaves off her nightgown. “And flibbertigibbets aren’t all that bad.” After a deep breath, she continued walking through the woods, confident that her invisible friend knew when the danger had passed. After the silence grew too pronounced, she asked “Griff, what do you know about humans?”

“Huh?” he replied. “Well, I guess I know all sorts of things. What did you want to know?”

She pondered that. “Are they sticky?”

“I… never have touched one” he admitted. “I can’t really touch much of anything without a body. But I don’t think they’re especially sticky though… Probably about average stickiness. Why?”

“No reason” she answered, scuffing her feet in the dead leaves before remembering the gothenmanders. She went back to moving as silently as possible. “Griff?”

“Yeah?”

“Do humans love their children?”

There was a moment of silence. “I don’t know” he answered honestly. “I guess that’s not the kind of thing they confess to griffins.”

“Princess!” Jacob exclaimed happily as they made it to the clearing. “She’s here! She’s here!” he called to the others. There was an excited rush to come meet her.

“Jacob, Myrna…” she greeted the tiny field mouse and dormouse that were the hosts of the evening. “I’m so sorry we’re late… The gothenmanders are out on the far side of the forest.”

The chittering of the woodland party guests hushed at this news. “Well, no bother…” Myrna declared, wiping her paws on a tiny apron around her waist. “I’m not about to let fear of those bullies ruin my daughter’s wedding! And after we’ve been blessed with such a beautiful night!”

“It really is lovely… and you’ve done such a wonderful job on the decorations!” Maggie complimented them. It was true enough… the clearing shone in the bright moonlight, and was enhanced by the fireflies that flitted above the tops of the tall grass at the edges of the circle of trees. Colored yarns had been woven between the branches of the underbrush (obviously a gift from the forest Thrushes, which claimed to have a great treasure trove of strings and yarns for special occasions beyond simple nest building. Maggie herself had filched them an entire ball of Auntie’s best blue last year, and they still thanked her for it every time they saw her.)

“We were hoping you could put on the finishing touches” Jacob prodded happily.

“It’s late in the season…” the princess replied to the happy father of the groom. “But let me see if they can manage one more blossom.” And she whispered to the bushes that surrounded the clearing, and to the trees above, and the earth below. And the flowers bloomed, as they always did for her… Apple blossoms opened above and began to gently rain down pale pink petals, and tulips sprouted from the ground, ringing the gathering with yellow, while the briars blushed and opened up white rimmed rose buds. The animals chattered in approval and a few of the songbirds in attendance forgot themselves and bust into melody despite the moonlight. The perfumes of the forest merged into a heady mix of pine and rose and apple. As a final gift, the small green plants that were the princess’s namesake sprang up from the ground and dotted the clearing with their tiny white blooms like so much flowery lace. “Thank you” she told the forest politely as she plucked a sprig of the magweed and offered it to Myrna as her daughter’s bouquet.

“Show off.” Griffin muttered good-naturedly.

“That I can handle…” Maggie whispered in fear. “It’s the next bit that I’ve never done before…”

“Relax” Griffin assured the girl. “I know all about this wedding stuff. Just repeat what I say, and you’ll do fine. All they have to say is “I do” when you ask a question…”

“Do you, Maeby, take Mortimer Fieldmouse to be your Husband? And do you, Mortimer, take Maeby Dormouse to be your wife? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect each other, forsaking all others, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do” the tiny bride and groom answered eagerly.

The princess cocked her head to the side and listened. “Have you obtained license form 1057-A, properly filled out, duly witnessed and notarized, then filed with the County Clerk’s office for the municipality in which you are being matrimonially bonded?”

“Er… I do” they repeated, exchanging unsure glances.

Maggie smiled happily “Then by the power vested in me by Liberian Maritime Law, I now pronounce you husband and wife!” She blinked for a moment and tilted her head a bit. “Oh… and you should kiss!”

“What an honor” mother Myrna sniffled into a tiny silk handkerchief. “My little girl, wed to her true love by royalty! Show me another mouse who had such a fine wedding! And that Mrs. Frisby thinks her lot is so high and mighty!”

“T’was a lovely ceremony” Mr. Blakeslee observed, scratching behind his rabbit ears. “Young love is such a special joy… But then, so is middle-aged love. And mature love too. Say, where is me charming missus, anyway? Perhaps we’ll just go for a quick moonlit romp in the long grass…”

Jacob Fieldmouse shook his head as the lepus guest hopped away. “Bunnies” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“A touching lust for life, methinks” the widow Myrna suggested.

“Lust for something…” Jacob agreed dubiously.

The mother Dormouse gave a snort of mirth, and than herded off the field mouse with some affectionate prodding. “Go on now… you know half the guests are waiting to hear your heroic tales of the battle of Fall’s Keep. Mustn’t disappoint now.”

“Ach…Don’t they ever grow tired of that old story?”

“As if you ever get tired of telling it” she challenged in return.

Griffin smiled at the banter of the two mouse friends, and continued to pick his way through the unaware party guests, watching and listening. Fairy Princess Magweed was seated cross-legged at the far end of the clearing, politely holding court for the creatures of the woods. There was a time when he would have scoffed at the pleasant fiction they were all engaging in, as the little girl had no real power over anyone, living like she did shut up in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. And yet the mice, and the sparrows, and the frogs and the pixies, and the wisps and more would come to her with their problems and their requests, and this little girl with nothing more to her name than dirty feet would take it all very seriously.

“If I’m to be a Queen one day, I have to learn to serve the public” she had told him haughtily when he first voiced his frustrations. “You said that’s what a good ruler does.”

“You’re not a real ruler… You’re practically a prisoner here! What do you think you can do for them?” he growled.

She simply shrugged. “How can I know without asking?”

The frustrating part was that she was right, and it appeared she could do quite a bit for them after all. Most were content to be heard by someone they deemed as important, not really needing anything at all beyond that. And yet, when they needed more, she almost always managed to come up with whatever it might be as well.

Meanwhile, all the disembodied Griffin could do for the world was watch and listen. But the one person in all the world he could help was Maggie… he could be her eyes and ears in places she wasn’t supposed to go. He could tell her things she didn’t know… some things he wasn’t exactly sure how he knew himself, for that matter. He could find her what she needed to serve her public, no matter how often he rolled his eyes at the requests.

And when it was dark and lonely in the enchanted cottage, and lighting flashed in the sky, and the gothenmanders were ravening in the glade, and worst of all, the absence of creaking from the old rocking chair by the fire signaled that Auntie had gone out to stretch her old bones and that the screams would be sounding in the night, they could whisper each other stories… and the princess who really wasn’t and the griffin who didn’t exist could escape back into her glorious tale of when he first spread his wings to leap off the peak of Mount Dread, or forward to his where she lived happily ever after in an emerald tower…

But there was some information a good imaginary friend did not share, and some stories that were best kept until the time was right.

“What are you thinking, woman?” Fletcher the owl was hooting under his breath. “Having that girl here is an invitation for disaster… You know what will happen if she finds out.”

“Ach…” Myrna Dormouse chided. “I’m not about to chase the little angel away. The child’s all alone in this world, without a friend of her own, and no one to really care for her!”

“We both know that’s not true. In fact, if it were, there wouldn’t be a problem. She’s far too well cared for, at least for our own good.” The owl sidestepped nervously on the branches above. “How long have we known each other, Myrna?”

“Ever since you ate my father, 12 seasons ago” she answered perfectly matter-of-factly. There had been no evil in the act, as there was in other dire happenings in the wood these days. That unspoken common threat was why even predator and prey cherished these stolen gatherings of peace.

“Indeed. And in all that time, have I ever given you bad advice?” he inquired dryly. “Mark my words… Dark times are rushing towards us Myrna… best not to get caught up in them.”

“And do you know what makes times so dark?” she challenged, looking up to him and wagging a finger. “When good folk go and douse their porch lanterns and shutter their windows to block all light from escaping into the world. Hiding’s just a way of insuring that you meet your fate alone and in the dark… and I haven’t had twenty-seven children to go that way, no sir.” She adjusted her apron and set her bonnet. “Life is nothing but short and dangerous for some of us. Witch-queen or no, heaven forbid I stop living it while I’m here.”

“I’d like to make a toast…” Jacob said, raising a leaf with the drop of fermented berry juice. “To the bride and groom, may they always keep a well stocked cupboard in the lean seasons, and a warm nest for each other in the cold ones!”

“Here here!” the animals and minor fairies in attendance cheered in good spirits.

“To the lovely widow Dormouse, for the delicious food and wonderful hosting job she has done for us this evening!”

“Here Here!” they cried, toasting Myrna affectionately.

“And to Princess Magweed, for gracing us with her noble presence in order to make this blessed union extra special!”

“Here Here!” a voice sneered, before the others could respond. The crowd murmured uneasily as a drunken figure shambled out of the woods and into the clearing, gazing about in contempt with bloodshot little pig eyes while his great and toothy frog mouth twisted in scorn. “What an absolute treat to be in the presence of such luminous royalty…” the goblin snickered.

“Gnarl…” Myrna spat angrily. “You weren’t invited, so go on now and get… sleep off that rotgut you’ve seeped yourself in. I’ll not have you ruining my daughter’s big day.”

“S’alright…” the twisted little green man replied. “The princess can just wriggle her fingers and make everything better… can’t she? I mean, she’s gonna be Queen of the Fairie one day…” He waved his arms grandly, gesturing towards Princess Magweed who watched him with frightened eyes. “And all should cry, Beware! Beware! Her flashing eyes, her floating hair! Weave a circle round her thrice, and close your eyes with holy dread, For she on honey-dew hath fed, and drunk the milk of Paradise!” He broke down giggling at his own cleverness.

Jacob Fieldmouse drew a tiny sword and stepped between the towering goblin and the even-larger Princess. “You’ve been asked to leave, Gnarl…” he reminded the party crasher pointedly. “I think you should go.”

“Ah… the great mousy hero to the rescue!” the goblin snorted. “Tell me, famous Jacob… you think you can properly rescue a fairy princess from a dire fate? Surely you’ve had chances to practice… They do have a disturbing tendency to disappear, don’t they?” He turned his sunken, tiny eyes to Maggie. “I seem to recall a Princess Hyacinth before this one… What do you suppose happened to her? I haven’t seen her for… oh, about eleven years now. Well, girl? Seen any used princesses lying around anywhere in that cozy little cottage of yours?”

She shook her head slowly, repelled by the twisted little man.

“Well, no matter… We were toasting the dinky rodent couple, weren’t we? To new babies! A blessing on some households…” he nodded in mock honor to the married couple, “and a doom upon others” he grinned evilly at Maggie before downing his cup and pushing his way through the wedding guests towards the food.

“I’d rip his bloated throat out, if only I had my talons” Griff hissed in the Princess’s ear. “Pay no attention to him, Maggie… He doesn’t dare do anything. Not here. Not ever.”

She just watched him walk away with haunted eyes. “What did he mean, Griffin?” she whispered. “What other princesses? Have you ever heard of Princess Hyacinth?”

“Maggie, I…” he began sickly, then stopped short. “Oh no…” he whispered instead.

She heard it to… a howl that originated in an unnatural throat, one twisted into the shape of a beast’s. Then a second cry, from the other direction, and a third from yet another.

The guests huddled in horror in the middle of the clearing. The gothenmanders had found them.

“Rotbreath, Scumsucker and Snotlocker” Griffin reported back tensely. “They’re about a hundred yards out, circling the clearing. I think they’re trying to keep everyone here until the others come. Then they’ll want a chase.”

“What do we do?” Maggie asked anxiously.

“Princess?” Jacob responded, mistaking her question as being for him. “We have to get you out of here and home safely…that should be our first concern.”

She shook her head. “The gothenmanders won’t hurt me. Auntie wouldn’t let them.”

Myrna and Jacob exchanged worried glances, but did not dispute this.

“Of course she wouldn’t” Gnarl chuckled. “She exists to keep you safe, after all. And keep you safe she will.” He eyed her evilly. “Have you ever looked in the old root cellar, your highness? The one with the big lock made of cruel iron on the outside? I should think no gothenmander would be able to get at you down there… Yes, you’d be quite safe for years and years…”

“Jacob…” Myrna prodded, business like. “Tell us what to do, and we’ll do it. We need to be getting all these fine folk out of here.”

The tiny rodent looked around helplessly. “I… I’m no leader. What can I do?”

“You were on the field at the battle of Fall’s Keep!” Mr. Blakeslee pointed out.

“I’m a field mouse!” he reiterated, aghast. “I didn’t do any of the fighting! At most, I hid in the Prince’s store room and watched his battle councils!”

“You’re the bravest mouse I know, with a fine head on your shoulders” the widow Dormouse replied. “Always looking out for your fellow creatures of the forest. You’d even stand between a goblin and your princess with naught but a battered, sharpened iron nail for a sword. That makes you a hero in my book, and we are in need of a hero right now.”

“Right” Maggie said, plucking his tiny sword from him. “I heard how to do this…” She brought the nail down to gently touch on each of his shoulders. “I knight thee Sir Jacob Fieldmouse, Champion of the Enchanted Wood, and I charge thee with the protection of these assembled guests.”

The tiny knight stood looking in shock up at Princess Magweed, ignoring the fit of snorting laughter from the goblin. Finally he nodded, wide eyed. “Your highness… I… shall do my very best.”

“Can a fairy princess knight someone?” Fletcher asked skeptically. “Especially a mouse?”

“This one can” Myrna insisted.

“What are you doing, Maggie?” Griffin asked insistently. “This is hopeless.”

“I’m believing in a friend” she whispered back earnestly, then added: “It’s where hope comes from.”

Sir Jacob Fieldmouse looked over the assemblage of animals and sprites that had gathered for the festivities. “Right…” he said to himself, thinking over the options. “Fletcher… take up Maeby and Mortimer in your talons and get them to a secluded spot far away… it’s time for them to embark on their honeymoon.”

“Father!” Mortimer protested. “I can help…”

“We both can!” Maeby agreed.

“We’ll have none of that, now!” Myrna scolded. “No children of mine will be disrespecting a direct order of the Princess’s champion. Be off with you.” She kissed them both on the cheeks and embraced them tightly. “Live a good life, no matter what comes your way” she whispered fiercely. With a nod, she backed up and the great horned owl swooped down to pluck them off the forest loam and soar away with them.

“How will the rest of us get out?” the hedgehog worried. “The ‘manders are between us and the burrowing grounds! We’ll never run fast enough.”

“If we all scatter, then some of us will have a chance!” a squirrel suggested.

“I don’t really like that plan” offered the turtle.

“How did they break through the lines at the Siege of Fall’s Keep?” Myrna asked the mouse knight.

“A calvalry charge by Sir Edmund, who showed up when all hope seemed lost… but…” his eyes widened. “The mountain elks! The herd is grazing just outside of the woods in the valley to the north! They could outrun the Gothenmanders, if we could convince them to come to our aid.”

Maggie listened carefully as Griffin spoke to her, and then repeated his instructions precisely. “Sparrow Tuck” she called out to the tiny bird on the branch above. “I need you to be my… my… Royal envoy” she managed with some extra prodding from her invisible friend. She removed a green ribbon from her hair. “Carry this to the Elk King. You should bow your head and scratch the ground three times and wait for him to acknowledge you. If he won’t, call out: “Moonlit snow on rocks of ice… Feet be fleet or pay the price”… he’ll know you bring an important message, and have to listen to you out of honor.”

Sir Jacob eyed her with surprise. “Just how far out have you been sneaking at night, Princess?”

She blushed and thrust the ribbon towards the little bird. “Give him this ribbon, explain what has happened, and beg if he’ll help in my name.”

“Go now… quickly.” Sir Jacob urged the bird, who snatched the ribbon from the little girl’s hand and shot off towards the north.

Gnarl snorted. “You’re going to ride to safety on the backs of the Elk King’s herd?” He contemptuously flipped the turtle onto its back. “This I gotta see.”

Myrna glared at him while the raccoons rightened the turtle. “We’ll manage just fine, thank you.” She gestured to the bridesmaids. “Gather all the string from around the clearing, quickly now. We’ll need slings for all those who can’t hang on by themselves.”

“What makes you think the elk will find anything more than some fluff and bits of blood and bone by the time they get here, hmmmm?” the goblin pressed with a smirk. “When they realize you’re not going to give them a proper chase, they’ll settle for an improper massacre.”

“Griffin?” Princess Magweed whispered. “… I’m sorry. Please don’t yell at me.”

“What?” the imaginary friend asked. “Maggie, what are you..?”

But she was already talking to the forest again. And the rose bushes redoubled their efforts, and the stinging nettles and tangleweeds shot up as well, and then clearing was surrounded by a wall of thorns and vines and hedge too tall for any but the most nimble of elk to leap. And Maggie was on the outside.

“Princess!” Sir Jacob called, alarmed. “What are you doing? Come back where it’s safe!”

“They’ll get through…” she called back in a choked voice. “They’ll keep the elk out, and chew through the briars. They always get through eventually… but not if they have their chase.”

“Princess!” he called again, then looked helplessly at Myrna Dormouse.

“We’ll be fine… we know the plan” she told him. “Go. Protect the child... You’re her champion.”

“Are you crazy!?” Griffin yelled.

“You promised… not to… yell…” Maggie panted raggedly, running as fast as she could. Her feet shot through the underbrush with a rustling series of thuds, and impossibly managed not to tangle with any of the roots.

“I did not!” he argued, then caught himself. There was terror in her eyes, and her face was as white as a sheet. “Ugh… why couldn’t I have been imagined up by somebody sensible!” he moaned. But he knew why she ran… She was right about the gothenmanders. Even if they had all stayed and held them off from within the clearing, their howling would have driven the elk away… and summoned something much, much worse. He had no idea what would happen when Auntie arrived to find the wedding guests, and he hoped he never found out.

“They won’t… hurt me…” she argued unconvincingly, blinking back tears.

Griff wasn’t so sure. The two that had cornered her in a log when she was six had learned not to hunt the Princess the hard way. Auntie had seen to that… and once she was done imparting the lesson, they never learned anything ever again. But all gothenmanders were especially stupid… and even Auntie had warned against sudden movements around them. “Maggie, I… DOWN!” he suddenly cried.

Princess Magweed dove to the ground just as the huge reptilian shape of Snotlocker lunged, shooting over her cowering form and slamming headfirst into the oak tree beside her with enough force to splinter the trunk. Maggie rolled over to her hands and knees just in time to see the second gothenmander, Scumsucker, crest the hilltop through the trees behind her.

“The river!” Griffin urged. “Now Maggie… run!”

The Princess scrambled over the drunkenly lolling body of the nearest monster, and shot off in the new direction, crossing downhill through the trees through the dark of the night. “Please, please, please…” she was pleading in blind panic as she ran, the sounds of pursuit crashing terribly in her ears from behind.

The forest reacted to her pleas, and the trees pulled their roots from her path, and the brush lay down to ease her passing, only to spring back and slap at the unnatural creature that tore a path behind her. The gothenmander struggled to keep up as its great taloned paws tripped and stumbled over the forest floor, and its gaping, razor-lined jaws snapped in frustration at the trees which despised it so. The creature’s red eyes reflected the moonlight with soulless hate, and Griffin knew they could not trust in any rational instinct it might have for later self-preservation.

Even with the help of the trees, the terrain proved too treacherous for the heedless flight of the little princess. With a squeal of surprise, her foot found a hole and her young body went tumbling through the dead leaves, rolling down the hillside to crash into a downed log with a grunt. She lay on her back, gasping desperately for the breath which had been knocked clear from her lungs.

The gothenmander gave a snarl of success and skidded to a halt a mere ten feet away, it’s thick lizard tale weaving back and forth above the ground while its cat-like body crouched low. Griffin snarled himself and lunged, swinging hopelessly at the unaware creature, his unseen and unfelt limbs completely without substance. He prayed that his talons might be real, that his beak might be sharp, that his wings might be able to shield her, but it was hopeless… He was no more than a figment in a little girl’s imagination, unthought-of and unnoticed by the loathsome, drooling predator. He screamed in utter frustration.

The ravening gothenmander paused and cocked his head, a reaction that shocked Griff into silence. Then he heard it too… Another angry cry, this one coming from above. Both Griffin and the Scumsucker turned their eyes skyward just in time to see the tiny field mouse leap off the back of a midnight-black crow and plummet, sword first, into the gothenmander’s face.

“Hurry now…” Myrna instructed, helping to secure the turtle on the back of the great red elk. “We’re not nearly as tempting a morsel to those monsters as this noble steed what has come to our aid… Let’s not endanger him by wasting time.”

The last of the wedding guests clung to the final elk in fear as the great beast snorted with obvious nervousness, but remained kneeling to facilitate their mounting. Outside the ring of nettles and thorns, one of the dread gothenmanders stalked back and forth behind the barricade, an eager high pitched growl of frustration playing endlessly in its throat. Occasionally it would grab a section of thick, choking branches with its great toothy maw and viciously throttle it, but otherwise it seemed content to wait and make another play during the escape, snapping at the hooves as they bounded overhead like that last three elk which had evacuated the clearing.

“There now…” Myrna approved, as the crude sling of yarn and thread was secured, held in place by the raccoon family who grasped great handfuls of the elk’s coat with their nimble paws. “Climb aboard, Gnarl… hurry, we’ve no time left to lose.”

The lone figure remaining glared at the little dormouse. “I don’t need rescuing from the likes of you…” he growled drunkenly. “The Lady knows my value to her.”

“Yes, and I’m sure the beastie out there will be quite impressed by your credentials, enraged as it is” she noted.

The goblin blinked his little pig eyes and paled as he looked to the slavering monstrosity eying them with hatred. He only waited a moment before casting a sulking glace at the mother of the bride and clambering up the elk’s hind flank.

“Let’s go” Myrna said to their rescuer, clutching a double handful of the coarse red fur. With a lurch, the elk took to its feet and began circling the clearing to build up speed for the leap. The gothenmander backed away from the wall of thorns, eying the great mountain beast with anticipation. Finally, the elk charged the hedgerow, aiming to clear the top where a stoat oak tree grew right inside the barrier. This time, the gothenmander was prepared, and leapt to cut off their landing on the other side with vicious triumph.

But next to the king himself, this was the most fleet-footed of the elk, and he impossibly twisted in mid air to press his hooves against the side of the oak tree, lurching his body off in a new trajectory. The drunken goblin on his back let out a howl of surprise as its grip was shaken loose. Myrna reached to bring his hand back down to the secure hold on the fur of the flank, but Gnarl foolishly grasped onto her in panic instead. The two of them went toppling off the hindquarters and into the hedgerow, even as the elk cleared both the top and the lurching gothenmander, who tried in vain to change course too late. There was no time for the noble beast to pause, however, and with one regretful look over its shoulder it took flight off into the woods with the monster close in pursuit.

“Arrghh! Stupid little dormouse!” Gnarl cursed, hanging painfully from the briar bush well above the ground. No matter how he moved, the cruel barbs thrust and bit at him as the little mouse scampered about trying to pry them from his flesh and release him. “I hope you and your damnable little princess are food for the worms by the end of this cursed night! I hope the crone gets to both of you for what you’ve done to me!”

“Indeed, dearie?” a cracking voice answered in the chill of the night. The hedgerow wilted and died opposite the two trapped figures, and what looked like an old woman in a shawl stepped through the gap, her milky eyes cold as marble. “You poor, poor things… Why don’t you tell old Auntie all about it?”

“You have to run, Princess!” Sir Jacob instructed, hanging onto the shoulder of the little girl’s nightdress. “We’re almost there!”

Behind them, Snotlocker had rejoined the pursuit, tearing past Scumsucker who thrashed about in mindless, blind rage, a battered, iron, sword-shaped nail plunged into his eye.

“You can make it Maggie…” Griffin urged her. “Just a little farther… keep going!”

Maggie clutched her side, drawing ragged breaths with burning lungs as she willed her legs to keep moving. The sound of rushing water grew closer, and the trees around her whispered her plight ahead of them. On the sharp bank of the river, an ancient birch tree dropped its last leaf and toppled over the span, giving itself to the rushing princess as a bridge over the churning waters below. Maggie shed a tear of thanks as she scrambled over the moist, upturned roots and scampered across the white bark to collapse on the bank on the opposite side. Here the trees did not talk to her, and the plants did not comfort her. Here she was outside of her forest proper. Here was where she was never allowed to go.

Snotlocker skidded to a halt at the river’s edge, snarling in hatred at the shivering little girl on the other side. He paced back and forth in frustration, pawing the earth and wondering what to do next, but not daring to cross the instinct-drawn border of his hunting domain.

“Good job, Maggie…” Griffin replied shakily as the princess sunk her head down and drew painful gulps of air into her lungs desperately. “You did it.”

A mindless roar of fury sounded from across the river, and the one-eyed Scumsucker burst through the forest edge, heedless of the boundaries before him. Sighting his hated prey with his good eye so close, he leapt atop the downed tree. All thoughts of rules or self preservation gone, he charged, his great claws tearing off sheets of birch bark into the churning water below.

“HERE!” Maggie heard a voice cry out, and looked in alarm as Sir Jacob rushed out to meet the rampaging monster. “I’m the one who took your eye! I’m the one you want! Come and get me, you great oaf!”

The ravening beast knew who had near blinded it, and roared in hatred, lunging forward to try to pin the little mouse against the fallen tree with it’s great paws. But Jacob skittered on all fours, running along the sides and beneath the trunk, twisting and turning and evading the great paws as they ground deep grooves into the trunk. But just when it looked like the beast’s frantic slashing might dislodge it and send it down into the river below, a huge paw slapped down, trapping the mouse knight’s tail firmly. Scumsucker froze, his maw split in a grin of victory, triumph burning in his remaining eye.

That’s when the first rock bounced off his wounded face.

“QUIT IT!” Maggie screamed at both gothenmanders in fury, crying and flinging rocks and dirt across the river as quickly as she could grab them. “You’re nothing but bullies! Leave him alone! Leave us all alone!” Snotlocker ducked the barrage, and, confused by this turn of events from both sides, retreated back into the woods. Scumsucker hissed in fury, pushed past the breaking point at this final indignity.

“Maggie… what are you doing?!” Griffin gasped as she clambered back out onto the fallen tree, her own tear stained face livid. But the little girl ignored him, continuing to chastise the monster with rocks and words. Beyond all reason, she scrambled out to meet her nightmare as it coiled its muscles, ready to pounce and shred the little girl to tatters.

“This tree was one of my subjects” Maggie told both Griff and the gothenmander in a hoarse, quaking voice. “And it had one last secret to tell me.” She stomped her foot where the birch had told her and the trunk gave way with a sharp crack, spilling them all into the rapids below.

The water was a shock, cold as it was… so much so that she didn’t even feel the first few rocks that she bounced off of. The churning, swirling river around her made it impossible to tell which way was up and which was down, even with the bright moonlight. And when she became entangled in the dead branches of the birch tree, pinning her against the current, her last thought was of poor Griffin, and how he would be alone in a world that couldn’t see or hear him, and how very sorry she was that she couldn’t have imagined him more fully.

And then she was hauled aloft, the branches pulling her dripping form to the surface and then up above, until it became clear that they weren’t branches at all, but great velvety antlers. She slid limply down onto the shaggy red neck and grasped a hold, coughing and sputtering into his warm coat. “Your highness” the Elk King greeted her formally, turning his head to nod in her direction. Her green ribbon fluttered from his enormous antlers.

“Y-y—y-your M-m-m-magiss---ty.” She answered respectfully with the correct address as Griffin had taught her, her teeth chattering in the cool night air. “S-s-sir J-Jacob!” she called suddenly, lifting her bedraggled head. “W-where…?”

“I’m here, your highness” the mouse answered, mounted again on the crow in the branches above. “My friend here was able to pluck me from the waters… You took far too much risk to save me. That’s not how it’s supposed to be between a princess and champion.”

“S-sorry” she managed, properly chastised, although it was belied by her next order. “Y-you m-must take m-me to help the ot-thers…”

“Your highness, I am a king, where as you are--as yet--only a princess.” The great red elk informed her sternly. “That means I outrank you.” He turned and leapt the river in a single leap. “The others are with my herd. You are going home to your bed… and that is an order.”

Griffin watched as the great red elk and the tiny, bedraggled girl disappeared into the forest, and as the mouse knight spurred his mount to fly off back towards the clearing. Then Griffin set out to do the only thing he could.

“Gnarl” the old woman greeted the trapped goblin. “Come down from there so Auntie can have a good look at you.” The hedgerow of thorns withered and died under her gaze, dropping the scratched and bleeding goblin into a stinking pile of compost and mud. “Now, what was it that you wished for? My Lady is the one who usually grants the wishes, but she charges me with keeping her interests when she’s off doing business.” She eyed him dangerously. “Something about wishing my little dearie harm, was that it?”

“Little Dearie!” Myrna exclaimed angrily, digging herself out from under the rotted plant life. “Who do you think you and your damn Mistress are fooling? It’s a crime how you treat that poor child, that’s what it is. Using her for your own twisted purposes, while keeping her prisoner… doing unspeakable things to any poor soul that happens to come into the woods unknowing, all so you can keep your dark secrets!” Her eyes flickered to the canopy and momentarily widened before blinking back down to meet the old woman’s gaze. “Nobody in the forest cares about your secrets, or your filthy ambitions. We only care about the girl… And that girl’s a special one. She’ll never be whatever it is your sinister Lady wants her to be… She’ll be so much more. You mark my words… and have your Lady count her days.”

The old woman sneered. “I’ve never been threatened by a rodent before. What a remarkable night this is. Tell me…” she said, a snort shaking her twisted frame. “Did you really think he would be fast enough to rescue you?” And with that she spun with blinding speed, swatting the crow out of the sky as Sir Jacob rode swooping down from the canopy to grab Myrna and carry her off to safety. The bird was killed instantly in a cloud of feathers as the mouse knight went tumbling through the air to crash in a heap at Myrna’s feet.

The old woman looked contemptuously at the tiny mother as she rushed to her would-be savior, then back to the goblin. “A sad lot to throw in with Gnarl.”

“No! I… I’m not with… I didn’t mean…”

“Now, I know you wouldn’t want any harm to come to my little charge, so I know you didn’t mean the nasty things you had to up there in the thorns. It was merely a slip. But that’s not all you had to say tonight, is it? Certainly not the only slip. It would seem from this mouse’s moral outrage that you were careless… so very, very careless.” Auntie closed on the fallen goblin and all semblance of the old woman act left her features. “I never cared much for gossip, Gnarl… Do you know why? We’re at war. And inside every bit of the blathering, inane drivel that is spouted from the insignificant mongrels of these woods is a nugget of information for our enemies to unearth. No, I find gossip quite treasonous from the right lips.”

“You know she’s not the one!” Gnarl cried, sniveling in the dirt. “The Lady knows it as well… This child’s not developing at all… eleven springs and hardly a stick of a girl… a skinny, knock-kneed bird flittering about. She’s nothing without the blessings she’s been given! You’ve seen the Lady’s disapproval… she’ll soon bring a new potential here, we both know it!”

“Gossip again!” Auntie hissed. “She is the one until the Lady should bring the next little dearie to me. Only then will she be nothing more than meat and gristle to be chewed.”

“Please, I didn’t…” he choked off what he was going to say when he saw the gothenmanders slink in behind the old woman, their long snake-like tails weaving slowly in the air as they stalked around him in flanking positions.

The last one to arrive was dripping wet, one eye a gory mess, a tattered piece of nightgown hanging from its teeth. “Ah, you poor thing…”Auntie said, cradling its chin in her hand. “What have you gone and done tonight, hmmmm? Gotten a little carried away, I see.” she withdrew a foot long knitting needle from under her shawl with a slow movement, bringing it around to the creature’s blind side. “Let me make that poor hurt all better for you…” she cooed. And with a swift plunge she stabbed the needle viciously into the creature’s wounded eye, deep down into the brain. The shocked beast spasmed violently, throwing it’s body about, but it could not dislodge the single frail-seeming hand cradling its chin. Holding the beast upright with ease by only its head, she twisted the needle about until the gothenmander’s body suddenly stopped and went limp. “Once they go too far past certain boundaries, they can’t come back” she offered by way of explanation. “One has to put down the failures, and start over fresh.”

“And is that what you’ll be doing to the princess then?” Myrna spat in outrage, helping the battered Jacob to his feet. “Putting her down when you’ve decided she’s not to be of any more use to you or your cursed Lady?”

“You two… You care about the little weed, don’t you?” the creature known as Auntie observed, darkness beginning to gather about her. “You’ve gone quite far to protect her tonight. To keep her safe. Yes… I think you’ll do nicely.”

Jacob held the mother Dormouse protectively. “Do for what?” he asked darkly, eying the woman warily.

“A new start” she answered. And with a gesture, the darkness leapt from her to engulf the two mice.

Griffin choked in anguish as he watched them be consumed, holding onto each other as long as they could until their bodies were ripped apart, their skins shredding as their very bones exploded outward. Howling in pain, they were twisted and wrapped in expanding, writhing flesh. They clawed at the ground in agony until at last, mercifully, the light of awareness left their eyes and they were gone. In their place stood the bodies of the two newest, monstrous gothenmanders, their chests heaving from the exertion of their transformation, their eyes burning with mindless anger.

“Now, Gnarl… where were we?” Auntie turned back to the goblin who was shaking with fear. She began her own transformation, something blacker and more vile yet than the magic that had claimed the mice. A shape that no one was to look upon and live. “Ah yes…” she remembered with a voice of ancient evil. “Meat and gristle.”

All Griffin could do was watch and listen, and so watch and listen he did. He owed it to Maggie. He owed it to Myrna and Sir Jacob, and to many more… all those who could act, and bravely did. And so even when his mind cried for him to turn away, to block it all out, he listened until the screams cut off, and watched until the very last little bits of Gnarl disappeared. He watched to see exactly what Auntie was… to know.

Because Auntie had said it herself: Information was power for her enemies to use… and they were at war.

“Griffin?” the Princess Magweed whispered fearfully, cowering under the blankets in her bed of straw.

“It’s me Maggie… I’m back” he answered. He sounded shaken, and just as cold as she had been after her dunking in the river. She made room for him on top of the bed, even though she knew he had no body to lie down.

“Did everyone get out okay?” she asked quietly.

He paused a long time, and she grew frightened. “Auntie had caught Myrna and Gnarl…” he began finally. “Jacob swooped down and… and he saved her. He grabbed her and soared up, up above the trees…But they had to fly away… far, far away from the forest, least Auntie get them. Like she got Gnarl.”

The little girl digested this news gravely. “They’ll be back” she assured him. “Someday. They’ll find help, and they’ll be back, and rescue us all. It’s all going to be okay…” She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “Won’t it, Griff?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah… it’s all going to be okay, Maggie” he agreed.

She lay in silence for a while, but every creak of the cabin in the wind made her fearful that Auntie had come home angry. “Griff… I’m sorry I teased you before… I don’t think the hippo horses are better than griffins.”

“I know” he assured her. “And I know you’re a real princess.”

She sniffed again. “But this isn’t how the princess’s story is supposed to go, is it?”

“No” he agreed quietly. “No… not so far.” She heard him take a determined sigh. “But it’s not over yet.”

Post By Visionary offers a Mythlands tale with all-new characters Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 06:48:52 pm EST	Subject The Tale of Magweed and Griffin

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