Andrew Buckley - Stiltskin

Robert stayed where he was until they were out of earshot. “Uh, voice in my head?”

“Who, me?” said the voice.

“Yes. Do you think she was telling the whole truth about the werewolf thing?”

“You think she wasn’t?”

“Well, it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Are you asking my opinion or just looking for someone impartial to talk to?”

“Your opinion.”

“Well, if I’m you, then we actually share the same opinion. Which is…”

“…she’s not telling the whole story.”

The castle loomed up ahead of them as they got closer. The sun was beginning its downward spiral, quite literally, and the shadows of the Western mountains began to point dark fingers across the valley.

Robert noticed what he had thought were birds weren’t birds at all.

“What are those things?”

“They’re pixies,” said General Gnarly and spat on the ground. “Sodding awful creatures!”

“I thought they were supposed to be nice creatures?” said Robert.

“Someone really ought to slap you up the side of the head every time you make an assumption in this world that begins with I thought ,” said Lily.

“I’ll do it,” said Gnick.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Robert sarcastically, “but I’m sort of new here and the only thing I have to go on is the Fairy Tales from Othaside. And in those stories Pixies are cute, happy, magical creatures.”

“Well, here they’re not cute, they’re never happy, and they’re certainly not magical,” said General Gnarly.

“Sort of like Gnomes, then, are they?” said Robert, grinning.

“Good one, moron,” said Gnick.

“Hmph,” said the General.

“Oh, c’mon, General, that was a classic, coming from the moron.”

“I suppose.”

“Think of Pixies as guard dogs,” said Lily. “They generally only ever listen to one master and they’re very protective. They’re not overly smart but they do have the ability to perform simple tasks.

“And why don’t Gnomes like them?”

“Because they’re too short,” said General Gnarly gruffly and knocked on what looked to be the only door set into the castle wall.

Robert mouthed the word seriously to Lily, who just shrugged.

There was the buzzing sound of wings flapping extremely fast, and a small black creature, about half the size of a Gnome, flew down from above and hovered in front of them. It had large, black, marble-like eyes set into an oval-shaped head above two slits that Robert assumed were its nostrils. It smiled a wide mouth full of tiny sharp teeth and a green tongue. Its arms and legs were short but the hands and feet were larger, disproportionate. The creature was completely naked but didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Its manhood, in this particular case, dangled for all to see. On its back a pair of almost transparent wings flapped like a hummingbird’s and smelled faintly like oranges. To Robert they looked like mini-demons; this was reinforced by two small red horns protruding from its head. It looked at Lily and Robert in turn and then finally decided to address Lily.

“Whats you want?” said the Pixie.

“We’re here to see the Historian.”

“Ee’s bizzy, go way.”

“Let us in, you ugly little piece of bandersnatch excrement!” said General Gnarly.

The Pixie looked down as if surprised. Robert noticed that more Pixies were now lining the walls above them, intently watching the scene.

“Ohzie, Gnomes izit? Never sawz ya down there,” said the Pixie and snickered.

Gnick produced a small dagger from his sleeve but General Gnarly waved him down. “Unless you’d like those wings clipped, you’d better go tell the Historian we’re here.”

“Gnomes iz nasty. Don’t like. Go way.”

“We’re here at the request of the Agency. I’m an Agent. And your Historian knows me well,” said Lily.

“Eazy t’ say youz agent. Arder to prove.”

Lily rolled up her right sleeve to show a tattoo that Robert had never noticed before. An intricate blue dragon with a red eye coiled around her forearm.

“Ahhright,” said the Pixie, “Namez plez.”

“This is General Gnarly and Lieutenant Gnick of the Warrior Gnomes of the Grimm Mountains.”

The Pixie rolled its eyes.

“This is Robert Darkly and I’m Lillian Redcloak.”

This was the first time that Robert had heard Lily’s full name. He repeated the name in his head and something in the back of his mind clicked. Something familiar? A memory? But he couldn’t place it.

The Pixie giggled. “Oh I seez. Whats biznezz you ave with thistorian?”

“We need access to some records.”

“Waitz here. Gnomes don’t cause no problemz, or elsez!”

And with that, the Pixie buzzed off over the castle wall.

The wizard Niggle was beyond what a normal person would constitute a nervous wreck. He’d already tried three times to pour himself tea but he was shaking so badly that the liquid never reached the flower-imprinted cup. Why hadn’t the Dwarf just let the seven-headed poisonous snake tear me to pieces all those years ago?

His fourth pot of tea was now beginning to boil and he used his favorite oven gloves to remove it from the fire. He’d performed the spell that the Dwarf had asked and found what he wanted and told him exactly where he could get it. Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t wasted any time leaving, although he did pause long enough to let Niggle know that if he breathed a word of his visit to anyone that he’d return and perform some nasty things involving a freshly sharpened knife and Niggle’s favorite body parts.

The spell Rumpelstiltskin needed performed was a simple one that Niggle had learned early on in his training. It wasn’t the spell that worried him, but the purpose behind it. Niggle did not know what the Dwarf had been up to the first time that he had performed the spell all those years ago, and he still had no idea. Part of him thought that he was much safer not knowing what was going on, but part of him, that little tiny obscure piece of him that wasn’t a nervous wreck, was full of confidence, and had amazing control over his immense power, wondered what it was all about.

He shakily carried the kettle to a large oak table that was mostly covered in books, scrolls, and half-burnt candles. He set his teacup on the table and lifted the kettle carefully. All his concentration was focused on getting the tea into the teacup. The hot liquid shifted in the kettle as he tipped it and the first droplets appeared at the end of the spout…

The front door was suddenly kicked open with a loud thump . Niggle’s entire body twitched in one massive spasm of fear and he dropped the metal kettle, spilling hot water all over the floor. He lost momentary control of his bodily functions and piddled himself just a tiny bit.

Jack stood in the doorway, red-faced and out of breath.

“Where’s the Dwarf?”

“I-I-I-I-d-d-d-d-bah-bah-bah,” said Niggle nonsensically.

Jack strode over to the wizard, pushed him into a seat, picked up his flower-imprinted cup and threw it against the wall where it shattered into many flowery pieces. He leaned over the horrified wizard and with a calmly terrifying voice said, “Tell me where Rumpelstiltskin is or I’m going to throw you out of your own window.”

The wizard’s delicate bladder gave up completely and wet his robe.