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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Novels
- Published: 09/03/2022
The Adventures Of
Picaroon Crookback
Tiffalor’s Loft
By
A Donald Harry Roberts Fanciful Flight of Fantasy
Introduction
I suppose something should be said about Tiffalor’s Loft before we go a step further.
First things first. There are only two ways to find Tiffalor’s Loft. One is by stealth, in the night and knowing exactly where to be at exactly the right time, which hardly ever happens because Tiffalor hates just about everybody and hardly lets anyone past the threshold of his door. Of course if you say just the right thing at just the right moment he’ll become the nicest fellow you ever met and invite you, not only into his house but up to his loft, which you will learn in time is the ultimate of magical places.
The other means of entry to Tiffalor’s Loft is a little more complicated, meaning, you have to know the equation and the formula. And to add to the complication of the whole mess is you can’t use any of the known methods of compiling an equation or formula. You have to have read Tiffalor’s Book of Magical Symbols.
Next I must tell you about Chapman Tiffalor who won Tiffalor House in a game of Joker’s Wild, which I will describe in the near future but has more to do with chess than cards and little bit of both as well as a pair of six sided die.
As you can guess it wasn’t until Tiffalor won the house that it became known as Tiffalor’s House and the loft was just a loft until Chapman Tiffalor read from one of his dozens of books on magic and transformed the loft into Tiffalor’s Loft.
Before he won the house Chapman Tiffalor was a peddler/alchemist/magician and part time apothecary who had inherited his library of Magic Books by accident, having found them in a caboose in the wilderness where a witch lived whose bones are probably still laying there under a nice wool blanket that Chapman put over her and said some nice departing words. The caboose was loaded with books and witch’s things, all of which he gathered, stowed away in his camper van and clung on to until he won Tiffalor’s House.
The house was a tear it down eyesore but with the help of his magic books Chapman turned it into a very nice Bed & Breakfast of an odd configuration, not meant for the usual, run of the mill Bed and Breakfasters.
Now we come to Picaroon Crookback, character extraordinaire who was one of those special kind of people who just knew things because he knew them and could learn other things with out much difficulties if that managed to find their way into air…in an odd sort of way, thoughts on the wind…kind of airborne like a virus only useful instead of bothersome.
Now one morning just as breakfast was being set for the guests of the B&B there came a knock, knock, knock at the front door of the house. Chapman’s butler came in answer, but soon beckoned his employer to attend the visitor.
It was of course Picaroon Crookback standing on the threshold and when Chapman Tiffalor said, “May I be of some small service,” Picaroon replied with a very long formulamatic, equationary spew that flabbergasted his host and which gained him immediate and unquestioned entry to the house and the loft.
Picaroon Crookback recited, “Floccinaucinihilipilification.”
With arms awide, a smile to dull all other smiles Chapman invited the man in and ushered him to the breakfast table. As Picaroon took his chair Chapman said, “I do believe your departed aunt has guided us from the spirit world because as it is you have come at just the right moment when you are most needed and can be most useful and we know that old witch thought of everything and everyone as useful or useless.”
Picaroon Crookback replied, “And how did you know that old carcass was my aunt?”
“Why it was mentioned in one of her books of knowledge, not of a magical tome but of memorable ramblings. She said too that should you ever come a calling to feed you properly because you will be most useful when you do show up, not early, not late but just when you’d be most useful.”
“Penelopy Crookback was like that,” replied Picaroon Crookback. She raised me from my diapers to the day she shooed me out the door to make my own way in the world. She taught me all my schooling and I wrote all the tests all legit like so’s I wouldn’t be wandering about an uneducated man, even if I am a natural born Hobo. That’s the way of Crookback’s she said and she said my mother and father, father being a Crookback had gone off to do some work some where in the world and would come back when they could. Seems so far they couldn’t.”
“And what thing beckoned you to Tiffalor’s House on this odd occasion?” Asked Chapman Tiffalor.
“Well, you see it was like this. I was lollygagging round the Windy City Hobo Jungle like I do every year bout this time when of a sudden I get this jingling in my ears and old auntie’s voice squeaking in me’ ed. She’s hollering, Picaroon, you git yer sorry trousers off to a joint called Tiffalor House and I got a mental map where yer at. So I hopped this train and that and then another and here I am just like she told me to do.”
“Well Picaroon, it’s my guess it ain’t about the house. I figure it has to do with the loft, I call it Tiffalor’s Loft and the oddity it harbours is called Tiffalor’s Loft as well, but that’s just because that’s what I call it. Yer old auntie called it Caboose In The Woods, but its exactly the same place with exactly the same people and exactly the same goings on except apparently there’s some trouble there and its up to you to go up the ladder, jump in the loft and fix what evers broke, or something like that.”
Picaroon Crookback looked around the table then smile politely and said, “A you lot are here to enlighten me I suspect, you being probably the heads of council there.”
A fellow with horns in his fore’ ed and hooves for feet stood and said, “I am Vido, voted spokes Satyr for us lot and we call our country Or’ Yon’ Der and it is true we are in heaps’ oh trouble that we can’t fix ourselves because some kinda thing called Badmash’s Revenge has come upon us and we’re getting sick…mostly in the head, but some of just conk out periodically and sleep for a bit, then wake up outa really bad dreams. And this Badmash creep has been making the rounds trying make’ im self immortal.”
Picaroon Crookback said, “And you can’t fix this yourself?!”
“Nope, cause every time we try we just conk out.” Replied Vido. “The thingy is, He’s actually a fake. He wouldn’t’ av no power at all if he didn’t have that book’ o’ magic and the green eye to read it with.”
“So what I am suppose to do is get rid of Badmash or snatch the book and eye and probably bring it back here where it came from in the first place, stolen from Auntie Penelopy.” Said Picaroon Crookback.
“I suspect so and I am sorry to hear that she has passed on.” replied Vido.
Picaroon Crookback nodded and turned back to speak with Chapman Tiffalor. “I will fill my belly and then have me a recon through the dimensioscope. You do have one.”
“I do. There was one among your Aunt’s goods, wares, and paraphernalia.”
“ Good, and please a whole pot of coffee before I venture into this adventure.
***
Tiffalor House is an odd sort of architectural wonder of wonders which can only be described as a sidewise, inverted, backsplit with lopsided gables and multi-peaked rooves. If you stare at it long enough you go crossed and if you try to figure out which room is which from the exterior you’ll probably go wobbly brained.
The loft is somewhere up two sets of steps down three, around the corner, down the hall, down a long flight of stairs and the up an even longer flight of stairs that somehow takes you to the top room of the house just under the attic. But you are not there yet until you climb the stairs up to the loft which is enormous and…well…I’ll get to the and part indue and proper time. It’s a calamity of explanations at best.
And now I suppose it is time to get on with the story which starts some time ago on a cold winter’s night in the woods and something rather tragic and demonically illegal occurred.
Chapter 1
Once upon a time there was an old witch who played the part of a gypsy but was never really a gypsy. She just played at being a gypsy because in a carnival where she lived and worked people believe in gypsies than they did witches. Nonetheless she was a witch and I must tell you, she was a real witch and everything she had, books and a lot of real witchy stuff and some non-witchy stuff she carried around in an old, converted caboose with street wheels instead of train track wheels and it was pulled about with an old pick up truck that was in immaculate shape and kept that way, most said, by magic.
As alluded to, Penelopy, Penelopy Crookback, was her name, travelled with a carnival, which travelled with a circus which for many years travelled hither and yon across the entire North American continent. But one day news came down the grapevine that the circus was closing up because it was going broke because no one went to see circuses anymore. That meant there was no place for the carnival to go because…well…for the same reason the circus was shutting down.
And so Penelopy Crookback found herself homeless, thought not entirely without savings, enough in fact hat she could afford to purchase a small piece of forest some miles from a little town in a township that was unincorporated so all she had to do was park her caboose in a nice little clearing beside the creek that ran through the property which very conveniently ran fresh year round fed by a spring which was also on her newly acquired property.
Mostly she kept to herself but in the nearby town they had special events throughout the tourist season and she participated to the delight of the towns people and the tourists and Penelopy soon became one of the major attractions. There was even a small, pseudo-carnival that came to town.
Penelopy used her real magic but made it look like just slight of hand and other tricks to fool the eyes and senses.
Now I must back up to the closing of the Circus and Carnival because someone else was effected by the shut down and was not at all happy. He was Badmash The Magician who was not a real magician but a fake and everything he did was slight of hand made to look like magic and for all the years he travelled with Penelopy in the carnival he envied her and even loathed her realness, though he often tried to convince people she and not he was the fake.
Penelopy, though sad that the circus and carnival were shutting down she was quite happy to be getting away from Badmash who was always trying to steal something from here, especially a very special magic book with a green eye to read it with. No one could read the book without the green eye, not even Penelopy who could read just about anything in just about any language, and her magic books came in many languages. But the special book was written in an unknown language in a code that only the green eye could decipher, so even if you could read the language of the book you couldn’t read it because it was all done in code.
Badmash went one way and Penelopy went another and it was many years before that fateful day in the small town at the harvest festival that Badmash showed up with the travelling carnival.
Now back to the years of happiness before that ugly fateful day.
One day, not long after settling in to her new home Penelopy’s brother and his bride came to visit. With them they had their child, a son named Picaroon.
Her brother whose name was Fankle said to his sister, “Sister Penelopy/ Something terrible has happened and Dorylander and must go off to take up a place in a great battle, and we are told that without us the battle will be lost. But we can not take our son with us.”
Penelopy understood completely because her brother was a warlock in the guild of warriors and his wife was a witch in her own right. So she took in Picaroon willingly for as long as he needed her. That turned out to be until he was sixteen and ready to go Hoboing, for that is what he was, a Hobo and a wizard, a thing he kept in practice but hardy ever used in his day to day life. Mostly he used it to eat and…other necessities of life, and always in secret, though occasionally he delighted kids here and there in trifles of magic made to appear like sleight of hand.
Another four years of blissful living passed. No one in the town or in the surrounding area ever suspected Penelopy of being a real witch though she did have some pretty amazing herbal remedies that worked amazingly well for colds and flus and pain and aches and the likes.
Then came the festival of the Harvest late in September which brought the carnival which brought Badmash to town.
The reunion was not so bad as it could have been because Badmash seemed only interested in his own business and though he spoke to Penelopy once or twice and they did have tea and talk about the old days and Badmash apologized profusely for being such a prig. In fact he said nothing contrary about Penelopy and not once attempted to steal anything, but that was probably because he didn’t know where Penelopy lived, or he made her believe that.
Then, with the end of the festival the carnival closed up to move on to another town with Badmash following right along with them, after a pleasant farewell to Penelopy, and it seemed to her all was well. And it was until one cold winter’s night when…well…this is what happened.
Penelopy was out of doors nursing a warm camp fire and a nice cup of hot tea after a delightful supper of fish from the creek and rice and boiled carrots. It was snowing gently but she was under a canopy and the camp fire was hot enough to melt what ever snow fell on it without getting dampen out.
She was actually looking in on Picaroon when suddenly she heard a scurrying of neighbouring squirrels and chipmunks and winter birds a short distance down the road into her caboose.
At first she though it might have been a wolf passing through, which happened or a Bob cat or Lynx, but it wasn’t any of them. It was a man who resembled most a half bowling pin with a too large head. And Penelopy recognized him immediately but not quickly enough to conjure up some protective magic. He was on her and had her bounded up like pig to market and stuffed in her bed before she could even yelp. He was that fast, even for a half a bowling pin.
And then he grabbed what he wanted. Just one thing. The special magic book and the green eye to read it with.
One might have thought that once he had his treasure Badmash would have run off but he was an evil thing and wanted nothing to worry about over who might come after him so he struck Penelopy hard upon the head. Hard enough that she gasped once and then her eyes went cloudy and cold as she died. And there she laid, (no one came to look in on her because she never came to town in the winter and no one ever went out to visit her. It was just a thing everyone understood.
So it happened that it wasn’t until Chapman Tiffalor, who had purchase his house on the outskirts of the little town came along to meet the witch in the caboose finding sadly only her carcass was discovered, mere bones in rotting rags.
And the rest I have already told you about so it is time to move on back to the pending adventures of Picaroon Crookback’s adventures.
Chapter 2
It was mid-morning when the council of Tiffalor’s Loft departed and assumedly returned to their home, retiring through a pantry door. Then after a quick clean up of the breakfast dishes, left to be washed by the kitchen staff, Chapman led Picaroon through the rather disjointed twists and turns of the house, up and down, sidewise and back, through over and around, which would have gotten anyone else thoroughly lost to Tiffalor’s loft, which if spied upon with the naked eye was very curious but just a model of fields and meadows, forests and towns, rivers and lakes, houses, barns, a castle at one end and a train that weaved everywhere, even up into the mountains where there were small mountain hamlets.
But that is what one saw with the naked eye.
To see more they climbed a ladder to a lookout where stood a very curious looking kind of telescope actually called a Dimensiascope that was pointed down into Tiffalor’s Loft. And when you looked through the Dimensiascope you could see the living reality spreading nearly out of sight set into a wide long valley surround by majestic mountains with sharp snow capped peaks. You could see the trains chugging along the intricate ribbon of tracks, and airships floating just below the clouds. It was a whole world of wonder but it was not all beautiful. Far, far away some hundreds of feet up the slope of a mountain on a wide terrace there billowed thick black smoke coming from what looked like a huge forge.
Picaroon looked away with disgust.
***
Badmash. This is not the first the world has heard about this devilish creature who is mostly a fake at everything he does or has done, but it is something of a prequel to other stories he has been the villain in. This in fact was the very beginning of his treacherous romp through the multi-dimensional realities of existence and sadly he has not been apprehended yet. But that belongs at another time and another place. For now we tell about his first venture into villainy and his endless search for immortality.
As you have been told, Badmash committed murder and stole a very powerful and special book of magic along with the green eye it needs to be read and of course as soon as he was in someplace safe he read it, learning about all sorts of magic that in good hands would be wonderful but in his it was turned to dark and treacherous use.
It is unknown how he came to be in the world we have called Tiffalor’s Loft and I suppose how is unimportant. That he went there is however as is/was his reason for it. It was here that he first discovered that most places out side the mundane world did not have the element of time, before after or moving in any shape or form. Life in most other worlds simply is and all things happen at once together, and usually in harmony though the different facets of existence are not always aware of one another. It was in this place that Badmash began his villainy.
It is known only that he came in from a winter’s storm when the season of his destination was high summer and though the gelid blast only lasted in a brief gust many of the crops in the north of Tiffalor’s Loft were ruined and that started the dark ball rolling. Because Badmash made promises to help them that he never intended to keep, making him look to them as he being a good guy. They knew not it was he that started the calamity in the first place.
Now I think you should know that in many places beyond here you are what you call yourself. Badmash called himself a Magician but he also knew he was a fake magician, so that’s what he looked like, top hat waste coat and all. If it hadn’t been for the book of magic and the green eye he might have come out looking the foolish magician, but he had the book so he created trouble in the country, like a swarm of gargoyles who, in all his glory fought a great battle using fire and brimstone and a murder of crows to drive them off. Of course the gargoyles were his magic and were playing his game so they did a bang up job of making Badmash look like a hero.
But Badmash learned something from the book that would actually devastate the country with the people not realizing what was happening to them until it was too late. Badmash was going to create a time and he was building a great clock made of wood, metal, gears and pulleys and magic to start time tick tocking one second, one minute, one hour, a day, a week, a month and…a year at a time. With time came aging with that came the magic with which Badmash could soak up the life of the aging, the old and the dying and he would live forever.
At the very north reach of the country he built his forge and it was from that forge that came the black coal smoke from coal brought from the dwarf mines, though until Badmash mesmerized them into automatons, using the book of magic they had never mined coal before. They thought they were mining black diamonds.
“What am I seeing?” Picaroon asked anxiously.
“I do believe it is what is to become of Tiffalor’s Loft in the very near future,” answered Chapman Tiffalor.
“I wonder what the people there are calling their home now?” Picaroon asked in a whisper. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
“So how do I get into Tiffalor’s Loft?” Picaroon queried mirthfully.
“Jump over the edge and you will go through the Crossing Place and land safely in a town. I can not say which town that might be. It depends on how the etherwind is blowing. Hopefully though it will be near the forge for if not even by train it is a long journey from one end to the other.” Chapman Tiffalor answered.
Picaroon thought for a moment then said a little suspiciously. “If you named this place and it is in your charge why aren’t you going there yourself to fix things.”
Chapman got a real sad look on his face and said, “I tried but when I jumped in the wind blew me back out. I believe it is you who are the only one to fix things.”
Picaroon nodded acceptingly then prepared himself to jump into Tiffalor’s Loft.
As Picaroon Crookback leapt from the platform into Tiffalor’s Loft and was plummeting downward when he began to question his sanity, but suddenly he was caught by an up draft.
“Well, that was scary.” He said out loud as the world around him started grow, and grow until it was humongous and for a moment all he could see was an oval of snowcapped mountain peaks encircling the ever expanding Tiffalor’s Loft below, which he realized wasn’t just a small place but an entire country with cities and towns and villages and habitats and in the farthest reach which appeared to be north he saw the great billowing clouds of black smoke and he noticed, as he turned to look behind him the sun was topping the last mountain peak like an orb or a golden eye.
Then for a moment he saw a great bridge made out of clouds and the draft of wind set him down on it. Picaroon was utterly amazed that he did not fall through and even more so when the sky above him turned to night and it seemed he could see all the stars in the cosmos all the way to the beginning of the universe.
And then he was falling again until the wind swept him up into a whirling cradle.
“That must have been the crossing place Chapman told me about.” Picaroon muttered almost delightfully. Then he could see Tiffalor’s Loft again only now he was well below the peaks of the mountains and to his delight there was no longer a black billowing cloud puffing up in the north.
“I have time.”
He watched the country grow and he was excited to see the labyrinth of train tracks threading from north to south and south to north and winding luxuriously around countless lakes and following the course of rivers that joined the lakes and sometimes disappeared underground. And there were roads abundant paved in cobblestone travelled by cart and carriage. There were saddle horses bearing their masters, but not a car or truck in sight. And as he slipped closer to the ground he had do swim to avoid hitting an airship coursing along with a Pedaler turning a propellor and using handle bars to turn the rudder.
And if you can imagine, they towns and cities, villages and hamlets seemed to reflect those of the medieval ages, though there were streetlamps of a later date and many travellers went by bicycle with gears rather than chains.
Chapter 3
At last Picaroon was set down in a village at the south end of the country which came to a rather close rounded point in a grotto at the foot of the last southerly mountain. It was called exactly what it was and the little sign read Welcome to Grottoville.
Picaroon shrugged his shoulders and giggled a little saying, “Most practical. I wonder if every thing is most practical here.
The sun had set though it was still quite light out and if you know anything about mountain life you know that dawns and dusks last much long than the sun does arcing across the sky, but in this case you must realize that the cycle of the sun does not mark the cycle of time. In places like Tiffalor’s Loft there is no such thing as time, no clocks or watches, not even sun dials or egg timers. Things just happen when they happen if when can be used where there is no time. There is however night and day but folks in places like this call it simple Sunsky and Starsky. But there is one thing that contradicts a no time zone, which nobody in Tiffalor’s Loft seemed to be bothered with. The moon, which was huge went through its cycle from new to full and from full to knew. If the locals called it anything at all it was simply a thing of nature and not for us to question.
The street went ahead as straight as a pin for some distance. It etched between two rows of shops on the east and on the west side of the street, which was paved in gray cobble stones. There were carriages, mostly small, hauled by what we would know as Welsh ponies or something along that nature, and dog carts which are smaller yet and drawn by dogs, of course but also goats, so I guess those would be called goat carts. What Picaroon noticed was there was nothing big about anything and the buildings were mostly single with the odd two story which general bore a sign dedicating it as an Inn. Contrary to that when the road divided where the grotto widened the was an octagonal building that reminded Picaroon of a pagoda which was six tiers high. The sign benoting its purpose read, House Of The Central Council of Or’ Yon’ Der Valley.
“Of course. It is not really Tiffalor’s Loft, at least not here over the Crossing Place.” Picaroon noted amusedly. “I must start using its proper name and it might be clever to stop in and announce my arrival.”
Just as he said that a fellow came out from a Vegetable Market shop not bothering to lock up. When he spied Picaroon he became cautious but approached Picaroon anyway.
Picaroon was delighted at seeing the vegetable marketer was in fact a ground hog of an anthropomorphic nature and speaking an old dialect of English Picaroon could not remember the name of. He stood about thirty inches tall and was dressed in a shop keepers trousers and shirt and still wore an apron.
When he was near he said, Carrot.” And handed Picaroon a carrot, nicely trimmed and peeled.
“Thank you.” Picaroon accepted and took a bite.
While he chewed the Ground hog said, Jen’ Ord Root is my name. I don’t recall seeing the likes of you anywhere in Or’ Yon’ Der, though I saw monsters of your kind in story books.”
“Well Mr. Root. My name is Picaroon Crookback. I have just come over the crossing place because your council said Or’ Yon’ Der was in big trouble or was going to be in big trouble soon. I am not sure which.”
“Ah. The Council and you probably spoke to that Satyr Vido who is the worst of all the council for stirring up trouble with his conspiracy theories about someone always wanting to take over the valley.” Replied the vegetable vendor, with a rift of politeness toward the council.
“It seems the others agree with him this time.” Picaroon said back.
“Well then that’s something to consider.” Said Jen’ Ord Root. “What’s it all about then?”
“It is about a Mundanie Magician who is a fake but who stole a magic book and the green eye to read it with from my auntie Penelopy, who is a witch and I was chosen for the job because she is dead and I am her nephew and it all falls to me.”
“Ah. A fake Magician. Well he’s visited here and seems not so fake. He offered our village great rewards if we help him convince the council to allow him to build a great fortress on the plateau at the north end of the valley. He claims that a great horde was coming from another dimension to try and conquer Or’ Yon’ Der and his intention was to protect us. He sad the horde would come through the north east gap.”
“Did you agree?” Picaroon queried.
“We said we would take it up with the council and they said they would take it up with the proper authorities on such matters which seems to be you.” The groundhog replied.
“So he is here already and already working on his plan.” Picaroon said more to himself than the groundhog.
“What plan would that be.” Jen’ Ord inquired suspiciously.
“I am not exactly sure but I think he wants to invent time here.” Picaroon replied thoughtfully.
“What is time?” The Vegetable vendor asked innocently.
“Never you mind my furry friend. You really don’t want to know. But tell me when was he here?”
“Ah. New Moon Last. It is half-moon wax now.”
“So. He could make time work because the moon goes through its phases which marks time but has not touched the valley. And he could make a magical moon clock.” Picaroon thought.
The night grew. The half moon waxed across the night sky against the back drop of starts. Falling stars streaked across the darkness and something twinkled far beyond.
It was obvious that the council had not been entirely transparent the people of Or’ Yon” Der. They knew a lot more than they were telling but maybe that is a good thing, or maybe I have come in a time before they knew what Badmash is up to. “Maybe I have time to stop him before he gets started. Maybe I am here to take back the back…Maybe. A dash, why am I here? “ Picaroon said out loud.
“I can tell you.” A cranky old but familiar voice came to mind.
“Auntie Penelopy.” Picaroon whispered as he turned in a circle until finally, in the circle of light from a street lamp Penelopy appeared. “Auntie.” He said again and went to her. “But you…you were murdered by Badmash. How can you be here?”
“It’s a tough thing to answer nephew in a few words. Just be glad I can be, I came to help as I can and that is with knowledge. Let us go for a brew at a tavern and I’ll tell you all about it.”
In a few minutes they were sitting in a booth in a small tavern sipping ale.
“Are my parents here?” Picaroon voiced a thought.
“No nephew. Not here.”
“Auntie. Are they still alive?”
“Like I am alive to you now Picaroon. Just leave it at that. Someday you will know all you need to know. For now you have a job to do and it means going up against Gafrinker Badmash.”
“Do I have to rescue the book and eye?” Picaroon asked nervously.
“If you can that would be good but for now you must stop the fake magician from creating time. He wants to build a clock tower where he can build a clock that will start time here in Or’ Yon’ Der. He has the magic to seep the life from the people as they age or maybe age them as he seeps their life. They will learn about having children because he will teach them. They will be born and die and all that life will make him immortal as long as he keeps returning with the motion of the moon and his clock.”
“How can I stop him if he has the magic book and eye and I have no magic.” Picaroon challenged.
“The clock will be magic because he puts the moon magic in it, but the clock itself will be just metal and wood, gears and springs like any other clock and maybe steam. You need but keep the clock from starting or if it does start find a way to stop it. If it stops before the full cycle of the moon things will go back to the way they were and no one will remember it ever happened.’
“What about after a full cycle Auntie.”
“Then its done. Or’Yon’ Der will have time forever and the only thin left is to keep Badmash from stealing the life they expend.” Penelopy answered miserably.
“Then I ha better stop him before that happens, even if I have to kill him. I hate the thought of committing murder, but I will if no other way can be found.” Picaroon replied.
And at that Auntie Penelopy vanished, ale and all.
The barmaid came to the booth not surprised that Picaroon was alone. She set another mug of ale on the table and smiled warmly. “She said it was for you.” The barmaid explained. Picaroon didn’t try to figure it out. Instead he asked, “How far is it to the plateau?”
“Four hundred leagues as the crow flies, if a crow would fly so far.” The barmaid answer then hurried away.
“Fourteen hundred miles if I know my leagues and miles right. That is a very long walk or ride in a carriage. If only I could fly…or…Geez. Of course. I can higher an airship. But in the morning. I am too tired to go any further today…tonight. I’ll get a room at an Inn.”
Chapter 4
First thing in the morning Picaroon went straight to the pagoda building and sought out Vido. He wondered why the council house was all the way in the south and not somewhere in the middle, a question Vido answered with an odd sort of logic. “Because that is the way it is and no one wants to change the way things are.”
The council was in the top tier. The other six were vacant. Picaroon decided it wasn’t worth asking why because he didn’t think it would serve any purpose and besides he wasn’t open to dealing with any more of Vido’s logic.
“Who are you and why are you here?” Vido inquired authoritatively.
“Well, that answers that question.” Picaroon replied. “You haven’t visited Chapman Tiffalor yet.”
“How would you…how could you possibly know that we plan to visit Mundanieland. We only spoke of it to the Witch Penelopy just last sunset.” Vido shot back in surprise.
“I am Penelopy’s nephew.”
Silence. The members of the council just stared dumbfoundedly at Picaroon.
“Well. That’ll put a slant on things.” Said a council member who looked like a bull frog said slowly. “Do we visit Mundieland or not, since what we planned to do in the first place is already done.”
Picaroon found a place to sit at the big seven sided table with benches long enough for a dozen on each bench. He said thoughtfully. Things go around and come around and since you have no concept of a certain element of Mundanieland I should think that you have already accomplished your goal and doing it twice would just complicate things.”
The Frog, who name was Julup Croaker said, “Ah. He speaks in riddles without knowing we are aware of the riddle of the moon and how it explains the riddle of time. Yes. We know what time is but not at all how it works except that it would do us grave harm should such a plague touch our valley.”
“Well, that helps.” Picaroon replied. “And that means you know that Gafrinker Badmash has every intention of bringing the time plague here.”
“He will try.” Said a councilor who looked like a fox said. “But Penelopy said help might come if we could talk to Chapman Tiffalor and apparently we did, some how though I or we have no idea how we did so.”
“Time is not all bad.” Picaroon replied, but it is mostly and it makes people grow old and die and…well…you don’t want the plague and you don’t want Badmash stealing you life. So I…or we, must stop him before it’s too late.”
“He has already started to build his tower. He claims it is part of a fortress to protect us from invaders.” Said the Satyr.
“Hmm. It’s gone that far and I suppose he has already built his forge as well.” Picaroon muttered.
“And he has convinced the mountain dwarves to dig him up coal.” Said a council member who was a dwarf. “My own people. I find it embarrassing.”
“Don’t be. He has a magic book that he can get spells from to mesmerize people. They probably believe they are digging for black diamonds.” Picaroon countered.
“Puffaw. There’s no such thing as black diamonds.” Argued the dwarf.
“True but coal does eventually become diamonds…with time.” Picaroon explained.
“With time. Without time there’d be no diamonds and without diamonds there’d be no jewels. So time is not all bad and it lives in the ground beneath our feet.” The dwarf babbled on. I must go dig with my people.”
“Stop.” Picaroon yelled as loud as he could and everyone jumped and the Dwarf, Rufus Pickaxe was his name frozen in his tracks. “You will stay here. Time does not live in the ground and diamonds are formed by pressure. Time is just a façade. The pressure does not need it. But you can see how Badmash’s magic works even without the magic book and spell.”
Rufus plopped back into his seat and grumbled, “Yes I understand and yes this plague called time is very bad.”
“But how can you stop him.” Vido queried worriedly.
“I must go there but not alone. I will need help. Do you have anyone who know about forges, gears, and steam.” Picaroon inquired.
“Yes. Our train masters know all about these things. They are dwarves and very clever but I am afraid a little naïve as well.’ Said Rufus.
“We must find one that is not naïve then.”
“I guess that would be me since I know at least to watch for the tricks. And I am a Master train master.” Rufus volunteered.
“Then we will leave for the Plateau as soon as possible and we will need an Airship. Any thing on the ground would take to long to travel such a great distance.” Picaroon advised.
“I am afraid that certain aspects of time do not require magic, just certain words.” Vido muttered. “Words we must never allow to run rampant in the valley.”
Picaroon thought of a reply, “It will be all about timing, doing things at just the right time,” but he decided to keep that to himself. Time was already being troublesome enough without adding more words to the plague.
I am the Commander of the Airship Fleet said a councilor who looked like an eagle…and was an eagle. I will assign our best Pedalers, four I think should be enough to reach the Plateau by first light after the next moon wax.”
Picaroon sat back and contemplated the passing of the moon. Indeed there was a form a time in Or’ Yon’ Der but it did not effect things, people, in particular but it did effect plants. Plants grew, blossomed and produce food. Trees were growing, “It’s just people, animal people that time does not effect.” He thought and then only because they do not understand the concept of it.
If they ever learn what a clock is. Oh bosh this is too complicated. I must stop trying to understand. They don’t have time here so I must stop it from coming and that means stopping Badmash. Stop him now before he gets anything significant built. When we leave everything will go back to normal. These people will forget we even exist, except in fairytales.”
“We must get there as soon as possible, and best if it is by night. This night.” He ordered aloud and at that they all jumped up and set out.
Before the sun was at its zenith they were high in the sky with not one but two Pedalers and two props pushing them with haste northward.
In the gondola Picaroon said to Rufus. “I must use words that will alarm you Rufus. I must use time and timing so that we can work efficiently together.”
“I know of timing. Our trains run on timing. The gears must be timed and that means I know something about the plague time. But until now I was never concerned. I know that in time our gears wear out.” Said the dwarf.
“Very well. Then you will understand that Badmash is making a magic clock to bring the time plague to the valley and the clock works on gears, timing, and steam, very much like your trains but instead of turning wheels the gears turn arms around a face with numbers on it. It is that we must stop as much as we stop Badmash from casting a spell on the machine. I do not know myself what that magic is but it will make your people grow old and die and …well…”
“Yes Picaroon. I understand and I am glad I understand because in understanding I think I know what needs to be done. I will take care of the machine and you take care of Badmash and his foul book.”
The roles were set and easily done so and Picaroon was glad of that because until Rufus solved the puzzle of who would do what Picaroon had no idea how he was going to explain it.
Chapter 5
The half moon was at its greatest height when they began descending into Plateau Town. Deep in the alcove of the plateau was the beginnings of a fortress and in the foreground burned a great forge. Mountainous piles of coal stood all around and dwarves were working like slaves, unaware of their plight. In the centre of the fortress stood the rudiments of what would become a gigantic steam clock.
Coal was being shoveled into the furnace and the first clouds of black smoke billowed from the chimneys. Rufus Pickaxe said distraughtly, “ What are they doing. They know better than that. They are dwarves. They should never burn coal and allow it to go untreated into the air. They know about filters and scrubbers and soot diffusers. We have that magic. And those chimneys are much to short. I cannot believe my people have done this. If the wind blows the wrong way the smoke will choke the valley.”
“Then first we must stop the furnaces.” Picaroon suggested.
“But that would only be a temporary fix. We must go for the root of the danger and hope the wind blows northward. I see the gears being molded and smoothed and many are already in place.” Rufus described. But I know what to do that will keep this machine from starting. This thing you call a clock is truly a monstrous thing. There is magic in it already and the magic is foul, set by a foul practitioner.”
“Then you know that magic is not inherently good or evil. Only the practitioner.” Picaroon said.
“Yes. Penelopy taught us well about the little magic we have.” Rufus said.
“Auntie never told me about this place.” Picaroon said thoughtfully. Then he asked, “What will you do?”
Nothing mechanical runs without all its parts and if you remove just the right part it is difficult to determine why the machine won’t run. I see the steam drive turns a main crank that bears the main gear, but there are many gears I see to operate this clock. Take out just one small seemingly insignificant gear and the whole issue just sits there steaming and puffing but nothing moves. I’ll take a small gear that won’t get noticed because there will be several builders and one builder will be depending on another to do his job right. I’ll take a gear that will force the builders to take the whole thing apart, or at least half of it.”
“That will give me plenty of time to deal with Badmash.” Picaroon replied.
“My job is easy compared to yours my friend. Anyone who would do this must be purely and certainly the most evil creature that ever lived. He deserves to die I think.”
“Maybe he does deserve to die Rufus, but it is not for me to make that choice. In my world its up to the courts and when I am done here I must deal with him there, he having murdered auntie Penelopy in Mundanieland.”
“We know of murder because even here it happens, when a citizen goes suddenly mad, but we have never been able to understand why it happens. We banish the citizen who is ushered off over the mountains.” Rufus said.
“What lies beyond the mountains?” Picaroon asked.
Rufus shrugged his shoulders, “No one knows. We just know that no one has ever come back.”
“Well Rufus, we all have our mysteries to solve or leave, but right now there is no mystery, just a job for each of us to do and hope we get it right. Now go find your gear and maybe try and snap your people out of Badmash’s spell.”
“I have an idea and it will certain cause a ruckus if I can get the dwarves singing a might beer drinking song. They must stop to rest sometime.” Rufus replied hopefully.
But first they had to land the airship out of sight and to do that they had to set it down below the plateau and then climb up the cliff, a least three hundred feet nearly straight up. Little did they know that spies had spied the ship and quickly run off to report the intrusion to Badmash, who merely shrugged his shoulders and ordered his minion guards to deal harshly with the interlopers. At that time it cannot be ascertained if he knew who Picaroon Crookback was or what he was up to. He simply knew that intruders of any sort meant trouble and he wanted none of it. He want his magic clock to tick and tock and bring time to the minds and bodies of the people of Or’ Yon’ Der.
***
Now for a moment we must leave our friends in Or’ Yon’ Der and look in on Chapman Tiffalor because things were not going well for him at Tiffalor House and it had a great deal to do with the events curling about in Tiffalor’s Loft.
I am sure you have heard of Gafrinker Badmash, especially if you have ever read the story of The Old Man and His Dragon which can be found in The Chronicles Of Tanglemind. If not maybe you should someday.
If things in Or’ Yon’ Der get resolved none of what you are about to read will have happened, but in the moment, while Picaroon Crookback was sparring with evil in that place known here as Tiffalor’s Loft Chapman Tiffalor was dealing with his own dilemma of evil, which somehow crept through the eddies and cracks sometimes found in the crossing place and allows all sorts of thing…and people through into places they don’t belong at times when the shouldn’t be there.
Please keep in mind that time is erratic and merely a concept for people who need to follow the ticking and tocking of the clock. Sometimes a minute is an hour and sometimes it can be forever…or it seems like that.
Chapman Tiffalor watched Picaroon take the leap into the loft. He watched him disappear into the mist and finally saw him standing on the Cloud Bridge in the Crossing Place. Then Picaroon faded with the bridge, but just before the clouds and mist dissipated there was an enormous flash of lightning and crash of thunder no longer than half a second later and Chapman was never sure if it came from the Crossing Place or out side of Tiffalor House. But in the end the only thing that mattered was a knock came to the front door then it burst open and something ghostly and dark ushered in with heavy menacing foot thuds. And it wasn’t until the dark shape formed completely that Chapman Tiffalor knew just how much trouble he was in.
“Dear me. What ever are you here for. I kept my side of the bargain.” Chapman said to the intruder.
“I agree. I must agree. You open the portal for me to enter your loft world. But now you are a traitor because you allowed an enemy to entre and I am charging you with the task of ridding me of him. I am talking about that scoundrel Picaroon Crookback. I saw him, or rather my spies saw him in his airship and he has landed it in Plateau Town. And I am sure he will be up to no good.
I would deal with it myself but I am very busy right now and cannot afford to be distracted.”
Chapman Tiffalor is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a courageous man. In fact he borders on cowardly. But even the most feint of hearts have their moment of bravery and, for what ever reason Chapman was struck with one of those moment as he stood before Gafrinker Badmash.
Said he in a most forceful voice which the fake magician was not expecting. “Badmash. When you came to me wanting entrance to my Loft I was afraid, yes very afraid and that made me cowardly. I was afraid because I knew you had committed murder once and would not hesitate to do so again if it suited your needs. I was afraid because you had the book of magic and the green eye to read it with and finally I was afraid because I was afraid to die, but I have learned something since then. I have learned that death is not the end really. It is the end of this mundanie existence yes, but not of the spirit that is me and the spirit of me is immortal. Maybe that is something you should consider. Maybe you are depriving yourself by trying to make your corporeal self-immortal, which by the way is a very confined limited existence and merely a stepping stone to something far more exciting and adventurous, a lesson I learned from your victim Penelopy Crookback.”
“Well then you won’t mind if I stick with my knife and send you to your immortality.” Replied the false magician.
“Actually I would mind. I have not completed my task in this life so I would chose to live.” Replied Chapman.
And with those words the two men in mortal form set to in a fight that went from the loft, down the stairs and up the stairs and everywhere a fight could go in the house, which was just about everywhere, Badmash with his knife and Chapman with piece of wood he snatched up while running through a work shop, somewhere in the bowels of the house.
But having a weapon brief delayed Badmash’s wrath and as they went up and down again and came again to the Loft Badmash thrust one time when Chapman’s back was turned and stuck the blade deep into the flesh. Chapman gasped, turned abruptly, grasped at air and watched as Gafrinker Badmash faded to thin air. He uttered desperately. “Oh my. Beware Picaroon Crookback. I am no longer here to abide your needs.” And he crumpled to the floor on the landing above Tiffalor’s Loft.
Chapter 6
Gafrinker Badmash had a terrible advantage. He had a time travel spell and when his efforts to create time in other places in the treatise called Tanglemind, which takes place in his future he decided to go back to a time and place no one knew him and no one attempt to stop him. But as he made his plans and launched his campaign to conquer Or’ Yon’ Der all his conniving fell to shreds because Chapman Tiffalor had gone turncoat. And even after he murdered the turncoat he was still daunted by Picaroon Crookback who seemed to have a link of his own to the valley country.
When he returned from his did at Tiffalor House he thought Picaroon would be gone but he stood in his plateau lodge looking out the window watching as the airship descended to the town below.
Angrily he created a fire ball and was going to toss at the airship but just as he flung it the thing burst into dazzling, actually delightful sparkles and rain harmlessly down on the plateau which attracted the attention of the slave dwarves who all stopped working to marvel at the sight, and just at the same moment there come from the coal heaps a dwarf drinking song that started all the slaves dwarves stomping their feet and singing along, forgetting their slavery tasks.
And who knows where they came from but every dwarf had a jug of beer in his hand and they made a big wide circle and started dancing diesel, without spilling a drop of beer.
And then she appeared with a smile and a glint in her eyes. She had not managed to stop the fake magician entirely but she did avert the fire ball to harmlessness and she slowed the forging of metal for gears and iron plate for the fortress.
“Penelopy Crookback. How can you be here. I murdered you cleanly. You are dead.” Cried Badmash.
“You murdered that mortal thing I inhabited, not my spirit.” The Caboose witch replied merrily. And if I could halt your efforts here wholly I would but for some reason even I cannot see I can but make life difficult for a moment for you. Slow you down and,” waving her hand in a twirl, “make you wet your trousers and since you cannot change your trousers here because they are part of what you are you must return to Mundieland to change and that will delay you just a hint more.”
At that Badmash scowled meanly and looked down at the legs of his magicians trousers now wet with pee. Then he vanished, red faced with embarrassment.
Penelopy laughed out loud as she faded and returned to where ever she was calling home in her after mortal life.
The beer was drunk, the song was done, but the sun too was gone and the dusk was fading. The dwarves went off to there gruel and kip autonomously because the spell though interrupted had not been broken. Still, the fires of the forge and kilns and molds had all gone cold and would take day to raise again.
“Its is quiet on the plateau.” Said Rufus Pickaxe.
“I hear that.” Replied Picaroon Crookback. “We must take advantage of the night while all are sleeping. I wonder if Badmash is still watching?”
“I think not. Before I came down from the sing song on a gust of air that picked me off the cliff and set me down in your presence I saw Badmash who was out on his balcony, fade and vanish.” Rufus said.
“There seems to be some helpful magic afoot my friend and I suspect it is coming from auntie Penelopy, though I do not know how I know that or how she managed it. Nor does it really matter. What does matter is that we get up to the plateau and do what damage we can do to stop Badmash’s madness.”
“We need not climb if Badmash is away. Let us use the airship. We will be a lot in minutes rather than hours of climbing.” Rufus said.
Picaroon said anxiously, “Oh dear. It has started already, even without the tick tocking of the clock. “You said minutes and minutes is a measure of time. We must hurry and we must do our task in a way that returns you and yours to a time before Badmash came. Oh dear it is getting terrible like the wind before the storm. Hurry. Hurry. Take us up.”
The airship began to rise, straight up the cliff side and when it reached to edge of the cliff the Pedalers pedaled the ship into a position for landing.
And nothing on the plateau moved or made a sound except a wind that spoke from the north. Rufus said, “A north wind is never a good wind for it brings storms swooping down into the valley, but such things happen only when things are amiss beyond the mountains.”
Picaroon shivered then his mind was filled with the flash of a horrifying vision. For a split second he spied Tiffalor on the floor of the landing above Tiffalor’s Loft, still and silent with a knife protruding from his back.
“We must hurry. We must turn back time.” Picaroon cried out not caring in that moment if Rufus knew or cared about the plague of time.
“I will snatch the gear. You go deal with Badmash.” Said Rufus who was already bounding toward the pile of smoothed gears.
Picaroon was just half way to the fake magician’s lodge, a Swiss chalet affair when of a sudden he came to a skidding halt. There, just ahead stood a beast, something out of the darkest of all fairy tales and horror stories, salivating and gnashing its teeth with a sword in one hand and claws bared.
“This just keeps getting better.” Picaroon cried out as he stood there gawking at the werecat, not knowing what he could do to keep from being killed, with no weapon at hand.
The Werecat approached with stealth, warily even though it must have known it had a great advantage. Picaroon backstepped wondering why the beast had not attacked, but when he took just one more step it disappeared.
To test a theory that popped into his mind Picaroon took two steps forward and the beast reappeared the disappeared when he backed away.
Picaroon picked up a stone and stepped forward again. When he threw the stone at the beast, straight at the chest so he couldn’t miss the thing went through it harmlessly.
Then Picaroon moved even closer and closer and as he approached the Werecat he waited for the attack, which came but nothing happened. The Werecat went straight through Picaroon harmlessly, just like the rock had gone through the beast.
“An illusion.” Picaroon laughed. Just an illusion, a fake created by a fake. But why not use real magic drawn from the book?” Picaroon wondered aloud.
And the explanation came in a slow breeze like fashion as the idea grew. “Something has happened.”
Picaroon continued toward the chalet lodge more careful to watch for traps and maybe something that wasn’t an illusion and well he did because… well something crazy mad happened just as he crossed the threshold into the chalet. The illusion was a fake to hide the real magic so that the intruder might let down his guard, which foolishly Picaroon did thinking that somehow Badmash could no longer use the book, which was wrong thinking. The trap he looked for snatched at him when he was watching the closest for the trap was real magic.
Chapter 7
The fires and forges, molds and furnaces were all up and running full blast and the work force of slave dwarves had been doubled. The steam engine to drive the clock was in place and the gear plate and motor arms were installed. Several gears had already been attached. And Gafrinker Badmash sat in his favour armchair staring menacingly and joyfully at the prisoner locked in a cage. Avery special cage constructed of snakes with long venomous fangs.
It was of course Picaroon in the cage.
***
Rufus had long since buried an interlocking gear of such a small nature that it could go unnoticed while the clock was being built. It was a tiny thing that done right was connected to another gear just a little larger which was connected to another gear quite a bit larger, but with out the tiny gear nothing would turn above it and thus the tick and the tock would not work. The best part of this was even the designer of the machine would take a long time to discover the error because that little gear could not be seen unless you were standing in exactly the right place with your head cocked at just the right angle and your eye and the light worked together to see the glint of the gear, which was faint because, though it was exquisitely smooth it was not shiny. It was but a polished dull grey.
Pleased with his work Rufus set out to discover where Picaroon had gotten to and what had become of him. It seemed to the dwarf that his consort in covert action had been gone considerably longer than he should have been.
He was making toward the airship when he saw a light in the upper window of the chalet. It was a large window so he could see most of the room and what he saw was Badmash sitting in his chair and Picaroon imprisoned in the cage of snakes.
When he arrived at last at the airship he was stricken with despair unable to come up with a reasonable plan to rescue his friend and cohort. And for a long time he tarried in the gondola trying to come up with something workable cause he could not think how a dwarf could out clever a magician with a book of magic.
“What should we do Rufus?” aske one of the Pedalers.
“If only I knew Wibble. If only I knew.” Rufus replied distractedly.
“Might I make a suggestion?” The Pedaler inquired.
“Of course Wibble, if you have something in mind?”
“I think desperate situation sometimes need even more desperate resolves and I have thought of something desperately desperate and costly as well.” Wibble answered.
“Do tell Pedaler.”
“Well sir, we have this airship and we could float it and set it on course toward the lodge and ram it with the gondola causing not only damage but a decent diversion while we go in and rescue our friend. We will need something to break up the snakes.”
“And maybe the gondola id built stronger than the lodge, and the lodge will take more damage and leave the gondola useable so we can escape.”
And, by gummy it worked, maybe even better than they hoped because when the gondola hit the windows they disintegrated and when it smashed into the room it sent Badmash ass over Tea kettle across the room and down the stair and when that happened the snakes uncoiled from their cage shape and slithered away, down the stairs right behind Badmash and before you could say jack rabbit Picaroon was in the gondola, which was hardly damaged at all and the Pedalers back pedaled with all their strength and retracted the airship from the mess of the lodge.
And they flew off with Badmash standing at his front door shaking a mad fist at them while reading his magic book looking for a spell to retaliate with, but jus then Penelopy appeared and knocked him askew, and though she tried she could not steal back the book or green eye.
And down they went to Plateau Town where no one had even an inkling what went on over their heads and went about their evening business merrily as ever they did on a thousand time ten evenings before.
But, as you may already realize, of that happened the forges and furnaces molds and plating, rivets and screws were still being made and all that was left for them counted on that single nearly invisible little gear and, as Picaroon said, “There might be a retaliation but hopefully I can make one more try for the magic book and the eye or at least discover a way to banish Badmash from this place forever.
Picaroon was up in the airship the next day doing nothing but staring at the gorge between two mountains that made up the back side of the plateau. After a while he returned to the ground and asked again of Rufus.
He said, “Rufus, even if you are not sure do you have any inkling what is beyond the mountains?”
“I know lore of a kind, but you must know about lore. It is as valid as myths and legends.” Replied Rufus.
“Tell me the lore.” Demanded Picaroon.
“If you climb up from the plateau, about near the top of the valley between the mountain peaks there is a cavern. The cavern it is said goes under the earth and comes out the other side. It is said there is a sea there, the very sea that feeds the waters of our rivers and lakes. And there are monsters in that sea that eat anyone who dares go through the cavern.”
“Ok, but what if we fly?” Picaroon queried.
“I don’t know and to be honest I don’t want to know. Besides what good will it be to know against our nemesis of now?”
“I tell you when I know unless you care to go with me over the Northern peaks to have a look. Maybe there will be help to be had.” Said Picaroon.
“I’ll not let our paladin go into unknown dangers alone though it may be my death.” Said Rufus.
bravely, though nervously.
“And you will need an experienced Pedaler.” Said Wibble.
“Then we have a company of adventurers.” Picaroon replied cheerfully.
“We will go by night.” Wibble suggested. “That way we may get past the plateau unseen, before the moon rises.”
“Well thought out Pedaler Wibble. You I am sure will prove most helpful on our exploration.”
And so it was all set for a clandestine voyage into an unknown region and had Badmash known he might have been Leary but he didn’t because Wibble was quite right. No one saw or heard them soaring up past the plateau and ever the valley between the two mountain peaks.
And you will learn everything that happened in the strange land over the mountain but first I must tell you what happened while our heroes were away. It was indeed the best of things and the worst of things.
Chapter 8
Gafrinker Badmash was mad with anger over what Picaroon Crookback had done to his house and wanted revenge, which might have been sort of good and sort of bad. Bad because someone…or ones would suffer the consequences, but in the end nothing ever successful comes out of revenge and your efforts usually backfire.
Badmash conjured up a band of gargoyles, of the nasties sort to go down into the valley and bring Picaroon and the dwarf Rufus back to the plateau for punishment. But after an extensive search the gargoyles returned with news that Picaroon and Rufus had left the valley country by means unknown but most like by magic. Which we know is not the case at all but if anyone knew no one was saying the truth.
And that made Badmash even crazy madder and nearly insane with the lust for revenge and since he couldn’t get revenge on Picaroon and company he decided to take it out on Or’ Yon’ Der. But he decided to wait until the clock was finished and started time flowing across the valley country. Besides that is what his objective was. Invent time, make things grow old while he tapped the life essence for his own and make him immortal.
It took some time to complete the clock but one day the clock maker came to Badmash and with a bow and no little pride he announce the clock was ready to tick and tock.
So elated was Badmash that he invited as many people of the valley to the plateau as could fit to witness the starting of the clock and the invention of passing time, though the latter would not be realized for a least months and what would really be interesting and frightening would be the birth of animals and then children and they mother and father would see the infant grow.
But of course none of that happened when Badmash expected it to happen.
All the guest were gathered…oh…wait…I forgot…The valley folk, save for a very few who wanted things kept quiet knew just how terrible Badmash was. They knew he was a mystery and there is no such thing as a good mystery but they didn’t know he was a murderer and an enslaver of dwarfs and a creator of a plague that would ultimately ruin their lives…in time.
Now, as I was saying, all the guest were gathered on the plateau watching as firemen stoked the steam engine into life and listened to this that and another whistle blow a tune, which you would know if you had heard it because every one has heard the bells of Big Ben or the Whistle of the steam clock in Gastown in the city of Vancouver.
And when the tune was played and the drive arm began to drive, much like it works on steam train only up and down instead of back and forth. And the main gear began to gear and the next gear drove the next and the next and it should have gone all the way up to turn the second hand, the minute hand and finally the hour hand. There should have been a loud tick and a loud tock and a wave of something strange should have swept over them and the whole valley, but none of that happened. Instead, the gear spun and spun but only about mid-way to the top. The gears above remained absolutely still as the arms of the clock and there was not even one tick let alone a tock.
And if Gafrinker Badmash had been able to blow steam out a blown gasket he would have, but instead his face turned bloody red and a scream like a tormented whistle came from his mouth bearing the fired words, “Where is the clock maker. Bring me the clock maker so I can lop off his ugly head. Where is my clock and where is time passing. What has gone wrong.”
And a flock of gargoyles delivered the clock maker to Badmash’s feet who said with a flood of fear and tears, “Master Badmash. I know not what has gone wrong. I must inspect the machine for if the upper gears will not move something is amiss in the lower gears and that can only be that a gear is missing, a key gear.”
One cam never tell what a mad man’s mind will do but on this occasion something incredible happened. Badmash, instead of getting even angrier, nearly laughed because he knew at that moment that he had been tricked. But the humour only lasted a minute and was soon replaced by a deep quiet anger the precedes a horrifying outburst.
And oddly he said in a quiet controlled voice. “Clock Maker, we have been bamboozled by Picaroon Crookback and his confederates and I am as nearly responsible for this as you. So ask in my best mood voice that you discover what has gone a miss and fix it as soon as possible. My time is running out. Soon I will be taken back to Mundanie if I can’t make this fool clock create time passing. It is the only way I can move back and forth and, so on and still be immortal.”
“I will work as quickly as possible Master Badmash, but not so quickly as to over look something. I suspect it will take several day to check every gear to see which one is missing and then it will take time to find the missing gear or remold another.”
“Go then and make my clock go tick and tock as soon as you can.” Badmash said with something as near tolerance as he could manage. Then he turned to the people of the valley country and said in a deep and severe voice. “I give you this chance to turn my enemy over to me or at least tell me where they are.”
Out of the crowd came a Pedaler and yes the partner of Wibble whose name was Gunner. “I know.” He said. “They have gone out of Or’ Yon’ Der in an airship. They have gone beyond the mountain.”
Gunner did not tattle because he wanted to tattle. He tattled because he knew if he didn’t Badmash would exact such revenge of the valley people that they would never recover from the sorry[ow that would come of it.
Badmash should have been thankful but instead he turned as white in the face as he had turned red not just an hour before and one could see in his eyes a fear no man had ever shown before.
Quickly Badmash turned and ran to his lodge which had been sufficiently repaired to live in. He went to a special and hidden room with all kinds of locks and spells on the door and it took him several minutes to undo them all. The he went inside and lock it sufficiently but not so tight as he couldn’t get out quickly. Then he went to a lectern upon which laid a book, the book, the book of magic and from beneath his shirt he drew the green eye which hung on a golden chain.
With a dead calmness in his deepest spirit he opened the book and sought out a magic that would turn failure into victory, or so he believed.
When he found the incantation he spoke the words softly. And soon, outside in the valley everything stopped including the valley people. Then he said, any one who enters the valley will be stilled and it will remain so until my clock is ticking and tocking and I have had my revenge on my enemy. Let the word go out across the dimensions what I have done so Picaroon will be obliged to return so I may punish him.” The quieter he spoke the deeper into madness his anger drove him.
Chapter 9
Now over the mountain where this story takes a very weird change in direction but doesn’t change the purpose. In fact it proved in the end to be the resolve of the whole ugly issue, however indirectly and it involves time and space shifts.
You know of and have briefly experience the Crossing place where you move from one dimension to the next or experience a kind of juxtaposed lateral shift. It all feels the same and the dynamics are the same, its simply a matter of configuration.
So when Picaroon and Rufus came over the mountain the found the sea just like Rufus had described only it was a salt so there was magic at hand when the water from that sea seeped into Or’ Yon’ Der.
It is only fair that I tell you directly, though I slightly alluded to it earlier that this story is an extension, a prequel if you will to tales remitted under the general title of Tanglemind and that Gafrinker Badmash is a major villain throughout. You might also like to know that this story is not so far off its own version of ending but like all such stories they never really end. They just change.
Not far out to sea they spied a shoreline but before they actually reached it they came to a place where the airship descended and landed of its own accord and they were on a bridge made of sea spray, a very dense sort of spray that took their weight. They had just disembarked from the airship when it faded away. The after only a few steps they found them selves on a pier with a sign that read, The Port Docks Of Lightfield Harbour. And to Picaroon’s surprise and delight he was met by Penelopy Crookback whom as you know is his aunt and a witch, who was murdered by Badmash but only in Mundanieland so you can guess from that that, that Lightfield harbour was not located in Mundanieland but it was only a Juxtaposed Shift from being there and known as Raintown or more technically Vancouver. But what is most interesting I not far from that dock was a clock…a steam clock that looked amazingly like Badmash’s steam clock in Or’ Yon’ Der, only not made of iron.
From the dock they took a single step, including Auntie Penelopy and they were all standing next to that clock wrapped in an early evening mist.
“Should I ask why we are here and why and how you are here,” Picaroon asked of his aunt.
“How nephew is a matter of pretty ordinary magic that even you could do if you wished but it also happens quite on its own. As for me, this is where I am now and probably where I was before I had my journey through Mundanieland and was murdered. Did you know that being murdered hurts terrible but only for a second and there is a kind of euphoria that accompanies you through the change which I suppose is just another version of the Crossing place.”
“Sure. That’s all nice Auntie but we have left our friends back in Or’ Yon’ Der in a pickle and we came over the mountain to see if we could find help.” Picaroon replied a little anxiously.
“I know and you will find it though not in the way you expect. You see this version of Lightfield Harbour is where the trouble with Gafrinker Badmash all began.” Penelopy replied.
“Ah. I see. We stop Badmash here in the past and every thing in the future changes.” Picaroon interjected.”
“Well no. I doesn’t work that way Nephew, though you will meet Badmash here when he first learned the art of slight of hand, Legerdemain it is called technically.” Penelopy inserted meaningfully.
“But I still don’t understand how this will help the valley people.” Picaroon argued.
Penelopy pointed at the steam clock. She said, “This is where Gafrinker Badmash came up with the idea of the clock time machine, after of course he attempted to use a magical egg timer, a rather large one I would add.”
“I still don’t get it Auntie.” Picaroon responded dolefully.
“I should have taught you more about transient magic when you were in my charge, more about magic of all kind, but I never dreamed you would become part of all this. Your parents tried everything to keep you out of it, but it seems if you are connected it will find you and get you involved no matter how hard some tries to protect you.”
“If I wasn’t confused before I am now. All I want to do is fix Or’ Yon’ Der and get back to being who I am…was…just a Hobo who lived in the Chicago Jungle.”
“Sorry kid. It’s too late for that. You are in it up to your bindle and by the way here is your bindle stick which you left behind at Tiffalor’s house.”
“That reminds me. Is he dead?”
“Not here and not now and that my young nephew is the solution to your quest to save Or’Yon’ Der.” Penelopy noted in a eureka moment. “Why didn’t I think of it before? But Your friends must go back. The can be of no help here.”
“I would be only to happy to leave this place. My heart is already feeling strange and I am thinking odd things that are terribly frightening. And worst of all I know what time is and for that might be good about it, it is inherently evil.” Rufus said.
“And that goes for me too.” Wibble piped up. “Now how do we get back if our airship is gone?”
Penelopy said warmly, “Just walk into the mist, both of you. You might want to hold hands so you arrive home together.”
They said their goodbyes and good lucks then turned and stepped into the mist gathering around the steam clock. Penelopy produce a wand of hemlock, twirled it twice diesel and whispered something. In the next step the Or’ Yon’ Ders took they faded away.
Penelopy sighed and said, I think first you see meet Gafrinker Badmash before he turned completely sour, though he was a mere murder away from becoming Gafrinker the Magnificent.”
“What was he before that?” Picaroon queried.
“Herman Heatmocker Legerdemain something or other.”
They came to a comedy club with three names displayed on the marquee, Herman Heatmocker’s was at the bottom.
Penelopy said, “He was not very good at it but managed to fake his way through.”
“And that is how he became know as a fake.” Picaroon mused.
They arrived just as Herman was being introduced and the reception was not becoming. There were even some boos involved but Herman continued and for once did manage to entertain the audience and received a fair applause for once. Of course he had a little help from the audience, Penelopy.
“Why did you help him. He will soon murder you and steal the book of magic and the green eye.” Picaroon scolded.
“Not matter what Nephew. It never hurts to be kind. Maybe that little kindness will help.” Penelopy replied hopefully…but as you already know, it didn’t.
“So what now?” Picaroon asked.
“Now we go visit Chapman Tiffalor. He too is a bit of a magic connoisseur, though he is but a student and does not practice it.” Penelopy answered thoughtfully.
“This is before he found your carcass in the caboose?!” Picaroon said.
“Yes but not so long as all that. This is when he bought his old van and was going on a tour to see the world, but you can’t leave Lightfield Harbour and remain in this Juxtaposition. Once you drive through mist you find yourself in Vancouver. But I won’t try and explain those dynamics now, or probably ever.”
They found Chapman at his job, working as a server in a coffee shop. They found him in fact on his last day already in possession of his van.
“Well. I seem to be a little off in my timing, a little further ahead in time. But it matters not. Before he gets away we must speak with him.” Penelopy noted.
And they did and this is what Picaroon said to him because it was picaroon who fit into the story you have just read most directly.
“Hey Chapman. Chapman Tiffalor. I must speak with you. There is something you must know, something you must know and not do in the future.” Picaroon beckoned the ex-café server just as he was going to climb into his new van.
“What. What’s that you say. Who are you?” Chapman responded curiously.
“Please listen and believe me. It will mean the world to some people very special to me.” Picaroon drew near and offered a hand shake saying, “My name is Picaroon Crookback.”
Chapman accepted the gesture and as he did Penelopy put her hand over both their hands.
Chapman swooned a little but collected himself with a shake of his head. “Ok. I will listen.” He said a little distractedly but staring straight at Picaroon.
“Ok. Good. “In the not too distant future much is going to happen but most importantly you are going to win an old manor house in a game of Jokers Wild.”
“Jokers Wild. I love that game and I am clever at it. I wouldn’t gamble a penny if I wasn’t.” Chapman interjected.
“Well you are going to gamble and win the manor. Then you will turn it into a special B&B for special people, using some books and witch’s stuff you will have acquired. Magic books and potions. You will create a place in the top of your house called Tiffalor’s Loft and it will be a very wonderful and magical place.”
“Funny thing you should mention that. I have always fantasized about creating a world, but only in a fairytale. I want to be a writer.” Chapman Interjected again.
Picaroon continued patiently.
“One night you are going to get a visit from a man who is going ask a favour. His read name is Herman Heatmocker and he is a magician. Not a good magician but he works very hard at it. But his over come by pride and desire and commits murder to acquire a vey special book of magic that requires a green eye to read. He is going to ask you to let him into Tiffalor’s Loft. He may use the name Gafrinker Badmash or another alias, but you will recognize him. He will be very fat and resemble half a bowling pin. What ever you do, DO NOT allow him access to Tiffalor’s Loft. His intentions are evil.”
Chapman climbed into his van and before he drove away he said. “We couldn’t allow evil into my dream then could we.” Then he drove off.
Chapter 10
A knock came to the front entrance of Tiffalor House. Chapman Tiffalor was not expecting anyone, at least not from the street. When he opened the door and saw a large, vey fat man who looked like half a bowling pin dressed up like a magician he immediately remembered something he had not thought about for years.
Sir. I am Gafrinker Badmash The Magnificent and a very talented magician. You may have heard of me. I come begging a favour because I have heard of you and your B&B and that you have a very special room called Tiffalor’s Loft. I am also aware that it requires very special permission to enter this room and only you Chapman Tiffalor has and can give that permission.”
“It is not permission exactly. It is a combination of an equation, a formula and an incantation, all applied in a certain order. But I will tell you now Herman Heatmocker. I know you murdered a witch named Penelopy and stole the book of magic and the green eye from her dead arms. I know this because in a strange way I inherited all that she left behind. I found her carcass you see and had had many dreams about the woods and the caboose.
But that is here nor there. My real point is Mr. Faker is, I will not give you permission even to cross the threshold into my house let alone to enter Tiffalor’s Loft. I know you for what you are and that is you are among the most evil of fiends. Now turn about and run away before I lose patience and call the police or better yet call on the ghost of Penelopy, the witch you murdered.”
Gafrinker turned deathly pale and sputtered, “But h…h…how could you know?”
“Real magic I think.”
***
And Tiffalor’s Loft/ or should I say/ Or’ Yon’ Der, never saw or even heard of Gafrinker Badmash and so there nothing out of the ordinary happened.
But somethings were not changed. Penelopy was still murdered though that could have been avoided if she had preferred, but she was rather enjoying her life much better in Lightfield Harbour than a reclusive witch living in a caboose in the woods just outside the village where Tiffalor House stood.
One evening some weeks after Chapman Tiffalor sent Badmash packing from his front door there came another knock. A quiet gentle thing that Chapman was almost expecting. He knew, or at least sensed who would be calling and when he opened the door and saw Picaroon Crookback standing there hat in one hand and bindle and bindle stick in the other he smiled and said, “I trust you are aware that I did as you asked and that all is well.”
Picaroon smile delightfully and replied, “As well as we arranged and I suppose it all turned out for the best for everyone involved and I am glad I came and got it all confirmed. But I have come for another reason. It seems our Nemesis is still afoot causing trouble and was wondering if you would consider helping again.”
“Please come in Picaroon Crookback. I have breakfast ready in abundance and I have a wonderful table of guests who have also come to discuss the ill-doings of Gafrinker Badmash.”
The Adventures Of Picaroon Crookback(Donald Harry Roberts)
The Adventures Of
Picaroon Crookback
Tiffalor’s Loft
By
A Donald Harry Roberts Fanciful Flight of Fantasy
Introduction
I suppose something should be said about Tiffalor’s Loft before we go a step further.
First things first. There are only two ways to find Tiffalor’s Loft. One is by stealth, in the night and knowing exactly where to be at exactly the right time, which hardly ever happens because Tiffalor hates just about everybody and hardly lets anyone past the threshold of his door. Of course if you say just the right thing at just the right moment he’ll become the nicest fellow you ever met and invite you, not only into his house but up to his loft, which you will learn in time is the ultimate of magical places.
The other means of entry to Tiffalor’s Loft is a little more complicated, meaning, you have to know the equation and the formula. And to add to the complication of the whole mess is you can’t use any of the known methods of compiling an equation or formula. You have to have read Tiffalor’s Book of Magical Symbols.
Next I must tell you about Chapman Tiffalor who won Tiffalor House in a game of Joker’s Wild, which I will describe in the near future but has more to do with chess than cards and little bit of both as well as a pair of six sided die.
As you can guess it wasn’t until Tiffalor won the house that it became known as Tiffalor’s House and the loft was just a loft until Chapman Tiffalor read from one of his dozens of books on magic and transformed the loft into Tiffalor’s Loft.
Before he won the house Chapman Tiffalor was a peddler/alchemist/magician and part time apothecary who had inherited his library of Magic Books by accident, having found them in a caboose in the wilderness where a witch lived whose bones are probably still laying there under a nice wool blanket that Chapman put over her and said some nice departing words. The caboose was loaded with books and witch’s things, all of which he gathered, stowed away in his camper van and clung on to until he won Tiffalor’s House.
The house was a tear it down eyesore but with the help of his magic books Chapman turned it into a very nice Bed & Breakfast of an odd configuration, not meant for the usual, run of the mill Bed and Breakfasters.
Now we come to Picaroon Crookback, character extraordinaire who was one of those special kind of people who just knew things because he knew them and could learn other things with out much difficulties if that managed to find their way into air…in an odd sort of way, thoughts on the wind…kind of airborne like a virus only useful instead of bothersome.
Now one morning just as breakfast was being set for the guests of the B&B there came a knock, knock, knock at the front door of the house. Chapman’s butler came in answer, but soon beckoned his employer to attend the visitor.
It was of course Picaroon Crookback standing on the threshold and when Chapman Tiffalor said, “May I be of some small service,” Picaroon replied with a very long formulamatic, equationary spew that flabbergasted his host and which gained him immediate and unquestioned entry to the house and the loft.
Picaroon Crookback recited, “Floccinaucinihilipilification.”
With arms awide, a smile to dull all other smiles Chapman invited the man in and ushered him to the breakfast table. As Picaroon took his chair Chapman said, “I do believe your departed aunt has guided us from the spirit world because as it is you have come at just the right moment when you are most needed and can be most useful and we know that old witch thought of everything and everyone as useful or useless.”
Picaroon Crookback replied, “And how did you know that old carcass was my aunt?”
“Why it was mentioned in one of her books of knowledge, not of a magical tome but of memorable ramblings. She said too that should you ever come a calling to feed you properly because you will be most useful when you do show up, not early, not late but just when you’d be most useful.”
“Penelopy Crookback was like that,” replied Picaroon Crookback. She raised me from my diapers to the day she shooed me out the door to make my own way in the world. She taught me all my schooling and I wrote all the tests all legit like so’s I wouldn’t be wandering about an uneducated man, even if I am a natural born Hobo. That’s the way of Crookback’s she said and she said my mother and father, father being a Crookback had gone off to do some work some where in the world and would come back when they could. Seems so far they couldn’t.”
“And what thing beckoned you to Tiffalor’s House on this odd occasion?” Asked Chapman Tiffalor.
“Well, you see it was like this. I was lollygagging round the Windy City Hobo Jungle like I do every year bout this time when of a sudden I get this jingling in my ears and old auntie’s voice squeaking in me’ ed. She’s hollering, Picaroon, you git yer sorry trousers off to a joint called Tiffalor House and I got a mental map where yer at. So I hopped this train and that and then another and here I am just like she told me to do.”
“Well Picaroon, it’s my guess it ain’t about the house. I figure it has to do with the loft, I call it Tiffalor’s Loft and the oddity it harbours is called Tiffalor’s Loft as well, but that’s just because that’s what I call it. Yer old auntie called it Caboose In The Woods, but its exactly the same place with exactly the same people and exactly the same goings on except apparently there’s some trouble there and its up to you to go up the ladder, jump in the loft and fix what evers broke, or something like that.”
Picaroon Crookback looked around the table then smile politely and said, “A you lot are here to enlighten me I suspect, you being probably the heads of council there.”
A fellow with horns in his fore’ ed and hooves for feet stood and said, “I am Vido, voted spokes Satyr for us lot and we call our country Or’ Yon’ Der and it is true we are in heaps’ oh trouble that we can’t fix ourselves because some kinda thing called Badmash’s Revenge has come upon us and we’re getting sick…mostly in the head, but some of just conk out periodically and sleep for a bit, then wake up outa really bad dreams. And this Badmash creep has been making the rounds trying make’ im self immortal.”
Picaroon Crookback said, “And you can’t fix this yourself?!”
“Nope, cause every time we try we just conk out.” Replied Vido. “The thingy is, He’s actually a fake. He wouldn’t’ av no power at all if he didn’t have that book’ o’ magic and the green eye to read it with.”
“So what I am suppose to do is get rid of Badmash or snatch the book and eye and probably bring it back here where it came from in the first place, stolen from Auntie Penelopy.” Said Picaroon Crookback.
“I suspect so and I am sorry to hear that she has passed on.” replied Vido.
Picaroon Crookback nodded and turned back to speak with Chapman Tiffalor. “I will fill my belly and then have me a recon through the dimensioscope. You do have one.”
“I do. There was one among your Aunt’s goods, wares, and paraphernalia.”
“ Good, and please a whole pot of coffee before I venture into this adventure.
***
Tiffalor House is an odd sort of architectural wonder of wonders which can only be described as a sidewise, inverted, backsplit with lopsided gables and multi-peaked rooves. If you stare at it long enough you go crossed and if you try to figure out which room is which from the exterior you’ll probably go wobbly brained.
The loft is somewhere up two sets of steps down three, around the corner, down the hall, down a long flight of stairs and the up an even longer flight of stairs that somehow takes you to the top room of the house just under the attic. But you are not there yet until you climb the stairs up to the loft which is enormous and…well…I’ll get to the and part indue and proper time. It’s a calamity of explanations at best.
And now I suppose it is time to get on with the story which starts some time ago on a cold winter’s night in the woods and something rather tragic and demonically illegal occurred.
Chapter 1
Once upon a time there was an old witch who played the part of a gypsy but was never really a gypsy. She just played at being a gypsy because in a carnival where she lived and worked people believe in gypsies than they did witches. Nonetheless she was a witch and I must tell you, she was a real witch and everything she had, books and a lot of real witchy stuff and some non-witchy stuff she carried around in an old, converted caboose with street wheels instead of train track wheels and it was pulled about with an old pick up truck that was in immaculate shape and kept that way, most said, by magic.
As alluded to, Penelopy, Penelopy Crookback, was her name, travelled with a carnival, which travelled with a circus which for many years travelled hither and yon across the entire North American continent. But one day news came down the grapevine that the circus was closing up because it was going broke because no one went to see circuses anymore. That meant there was no place for the carnival to go because…well…for the same reason the circus was shutting down.
And so Penelopy Crookback found herself homeless, thought not entirely without savings, enough in fact hat she could afford to purchase a small piece of forest some miles from a little town in a township that was unincorporated so all she had to do was park her caboose in a nice little clearing beside the creek that ran through the property which very conveniently ran fresh year round fed by a spring which was also on her newly acquired property.
Mostly she kept to herself but in the nearby town they had special events throughout the tourist season and she participated to the delight of the towns people and the tourists and Penelopy soon became one of the major attractions. There was even a small, pseudo-carnival that came to town.
Penelopy used her real magic but made it look like just slight of hand and other tricks to fool the eyes and senses.
Now I must back up to the closing of the Circus and Carnival because someone else was effected by the shut down and was not at all happy. He was Badmash The Magician who was not a real magician but a fake and everything he did was slight of hand made to look like magic and for all the years he travelled with Penelopy in the carnival he envied her and even loathed her realness, though he often tried to convince people she and not he was the fake.
Penelopy, though sad that the circus and carnival were shutting down she was quite happy to be getting away from Badmash who was always trying to steal something from here, especially a very special magic book with a green eye to read it with. No one could read the book without the green eye, not even Penelopy who could read just about anything in just about any language, and her magic books came in many languages. But the special book was written in an unknown language in a code that only the green eye could decipher, so even if you could read the language of the book you couldn’t read it because it was all done in code.
Badmash went one way and Penelopy went another and it was many years before that fateful day in the small town at the harvest festival that Badmash showed up with the travelling carnival.
Now back to the years of happiness before that ugly fateful day.
One day, not long after settling in to her new home Penelopy’s brother and his bride came to visit. With them they had their child, a son named Picaroon.
Her brother whose name was Fankle said to his sister, “Sister Penelopy/ Something terrible has happened and Dorylander and must go off to take up a place in a great battle, and we are told that without us the battle will be lost. But we can not take our son with us.”
Penelopy understood completely because her brother was a warlock in the guild of warriors and his wife was a witch in her own right. So she took in Picaroon willingly for as long as he needed her. That turned out to be until he was sixteen and ready to go Hoboing, for that is what he was, a Hobo and a wizard, a thing he kept in practice but hardy ever used in his day to day life. Mostly he used it to eat and…other necessities of life, and always in secret, though occasionally he delighted kids here and there in trifles of magic made to appear like sleight of hand.
Another four years of blissful living passed. No one in the town or in the surrounding area ever suspected Penelopy of being a real witch though she did have some pretty amazing herbal remedies that worked amazingly well for colds and flus and pain and aches and the likes.
Then came the festival of the Harvest late in September which brought the carnival which brought Badmash to town.
The reunion was not so bad as it could have been because Badmash seemed only interested in his own business and though he spoke to Penelopy once or twice and they did have tea and talk about the old days and Badmash apologized profusely for being such a prig. In fact he said nothing contrary about Penelopy and not once attempted to steal anything, but that was probably because he didn’t know where Penelopy lived, or he made her believe that.
Then, with the end of the festival the carnival closed up to move on to another town with Badmash following right along with them, after a pleasant farewell to Penelopy, and it seemed to her all was well. And it was until one cold winter’s night when…well…this is what happened.
Penelopy was out of doors nursing a warm camp fire and a nice cup of hot tea after a delightful supper of fish from the creek and rice and boiled carrots. It was snowing gently but she was under a canopy and the camp fire was hot enough to melt what ever snow fell on it without getting dampen out.
She was actually looking in on Picaroon when suddenly she heard a scurrying of neighbouring squirrels and chipmunks and winter birds a short distance down the road into her caboose.
At first she though it might have been a wolf passing through, which happened or a Bob cat or Lynx, but it wasn’t any of them. It was a man who resembled most a half bowling pin with a too large head. And Penelopy recognized him immediately but not quickly enough to conjure up some protective magic. He was on her and had her bounded up like pig to market and stuffed in her bed before she could even yelp. He was that fast, even for a half a bowling pin.
And then he grabbed what he wanted. Just one thing. The special magic book and the green eye to read it with.
One might have thought that once he had his treasure Badmash would have run off but he was an evil thing and wanted nothing to worry about over who might come after him so he struck Penelopy hard upon the head. Hard enough that she gasped once and then her eyes went cloudy and cold as she died. And there she laid, (no one came to look in on her because she never came to town in the winter and no one ever went out to visit her. It was just a thing everyone understood.
So it happened that it wasn’t until Chapman Tiffalor, who had purchase his house on the outskirts of the little town came along to meet the witch in the caboose finding sadly only her carcass was discovered, mere bones in rotting rags.
And the rest I have already told you about so it is time to move on back to the pending adventures of Picaroon Crookback’s adventures.
Chapter 2
It was mid-morning when the council of Tiffalor’s Loft departed and assumedly returned to their home, retiring through a pantry door. Then after a quick clean up of the breakfast dishes, left to be washed by the kitchen staff, Chapman led Picaroon through the rather disjointed twists and turns of the house, up and down, sidewise and back, through over and around, which would have gotten anyone else thoroughly lost to Tiffalor’s loft, which if spied upon with the naked eye was very curious but just a model of fields and meadows, forests and towns, rivers and lakes, houses, barns, a castle at one end and a train that weaved everywhere, even up into the mountains where there were small mountain hamlets.
But that is what one saw with the naked eye.
To see more they climbed a ladder to a lookout where stood a very curious looking kind of telescope actually called a Dimensiascope that was pointed down into Tiffalor’s Loft. And when you looked through the Dimensiascope you could see the living reality spreading nearly out of sight set into a wide long valley surround by majestic mountains with sharp snow capped peaks. You could see the trains chugging along the intricate ribbon of tracks, and airships floating just below the clouds. It was a whole world of wonder but it was not all beautiful. Far, far away some hundreds of feet up the slope of a mountain on a wide terrace there billowed thick black smoke coming from what looked like a huge forge.
Picaroon looked away with disgust.
***
Badmash. This is not the first the world has heard about this devilish creature who is mostly a fake at everything he does or has done, but it is something of a prequel to other stories he has been the villain in. This in fact was the very beginning of his treacherous romp through the multi-dimensional realities of existence and sadly he has not been apprehended yet. But that belongs at another time and another place. For now we tell about his first venture into villainy and his endless search for immortality.
As you have been told, Badmash committed murder and stole a very powerful and special book of magic along with the green eye it needs to be read and of course as soon as he was in someplace safe he read it, learning about all sorts of magic that in good hands would be wonderful but in his it was turned to dark and treacherous use.
It is unknown how he came to be in the world we have called Tiffalor’s Loft and I suppose how is unimportant. That he went there is however as is/was his reason for it. It was here that he first discovered that most places out side the mundane world did not have the element of time, before after or moving in any shape or form. Life in most other worlds simply is and all things happen at once together, and usually in harmony though the different facets of existence are not always aware of one another. It was in this place that Badmash began his villainy.
It is known only that he came in from a winter’s storm when the season of his destination was high summer and though the gelid blast only lasted in a brief gust many of the crops in the north of Tiffalor’s Loft were ruined and that started the dark ball rolling. Because Badmash made promises to help them that he never intended to keep, making him look to them as he being a good guy. They knew not it was he that started the calamity in the first place.
Now I think you should know that in many places beyond here you are what you call yourself. Badmash called himself a Magician but he also knew he was a fake magician, so that’s what he looked like, top hat waste coat and all. If it hadn’t been for the book of magic and the green eye he might have come out looking the foolish magician, but he had the book so he created trouble in the country, like a swarm of gargoyles who, in all his glory fought a great battle using fire and brimstone and a murder of crows to drive them off. Of course the gargoyles were his magic and were playing his game so they did a bang up job of making Badmash look like a hero.
But Badmash learned something from the book that would actually devastate the country with the people not realizing what was happening to them until it was too late. Badmash was going to create a time and he was building a great clock made of wood, metal, gears and pulleys and magic to start time tick tocking one second, one minute, one hour, a day, a week, a month and…a year at a time. With time came aging with that came the magic with which Badmash could soak up the life of the aging, the old and the dying and he would live forever.
At the very north reach of the country he built his forge and it was from that forge that came the black coal smoke from coal brought from the dwarf mines, though until Badmash mesmerized them into automatons, using the book of magic they had never mined coal before. They thought they were mining black diamonds.
“What am I seeing?” Picaroon asked anxiously.
“I do believe it is what is to become of Tiffalor’s Loft in the very near future,” answered Chapman Tiffalor.
“I wonder what the people there are calling their home now?” Picaroon asked in a whisper. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
“So how do I get into Tiffalor’s Loft?” Picaroon queried mirthfully.
“Jump over the edge and you will go through the Crossing Place and land safely in a town. I can not say which town that might be. It depends on how the etherwind is blowing. Hopefully though it will be near the forge for if not even by train it is a long journey from one end to the other.” Chapman Tiffalor answered.
Picaroon thought for a moment then said a little suspiciously. “If you named this place and it is in your charge why aren’t you going there yourself to fix things.”
Chapman got a real sad look on his face and said, “I tried but when I jumped in the wind blew me back out. I believe it is you who are the only one to fix things.”
Picaroon nodded acceptingly then prepared himself to jump into Tiffalor’s Loft.
As Picaroon Crookback leapt from the platform into Tiffalor’s Loft and was plummeting downward when he began to question his sanity, but suddenly he was caught by an up draft.
“Well, that was scary.” He said out loud as the world around him started grow, and grow until it was humongous and for a moment all he could see was an oval of snowcapped mountain peaks encircling the ever expanding Tiffalor’s Loft below, which he realized wasn’t just a small place but an entire country with cities and towns and villages and habitats and in the farthest reach which appeared to be north he saw the great billowing clouds of black smoke and he noticed, as he turned to look behind him the sun was topping the last mountain peak like an orb or a golden eye.
Then for a moment he saw a great bridge made out of clouds and the draft of wind set him down on it. Picaroon was utterly amazed that he did not fall through and even more so when the sky above him turned to night and it seemed he could see all the stars in the cosmos all the way to the beginning of the universe.
And then he was falling again until the wind swept him up into a whirling cradle.
“That must have been the crossing place Chapman told me about.” Picaroon muttered almost delightfully. Then he could see Tiffalor’s Loft again only now he was well below the peaks of the mountains and to his delight there was no longer a black billowing cloud puffing up in the north.
“I have time.”
He watched the country grow and he was excited to see the labyrinth of train tracks threading from north to south and south to north and winding luxuriously around countless lakes and following the course of rivers that joined the lakes and sometimes disappeared underground. And there were roads abundant paved in cobblestone travelled by cart and carriage. There were saddle horses bearing their masters, but not a car or truck in sight. And as he slipped closer to the ground he had do swim to avoid hitting an airship coursing along with a Pedaler turning a propellor and using handle bars to turn the rudder.
And if you can imagine, they towns and cities, villages and hamlets seemed to reflect those of the medieval ages, though there were streetlamps of a later date and many travellers went by bicycle with gears rather than chains.
Chapter 3
At last Picaroon was set down in a village at the south end of the country which came to a rather close rounded point in a grotto at the foot of the last southerly mountain. It was called exactly what it was and the little sign read Welcome to Grottoville.
Picaroon shrugged his shoulders and giggled a little saying, “Most practical. I wonder if every thing is most practical here.
The sun had set though it was still quite light out and if you know anything about mountain life you know that dawns and dusks last much long than the sun does arcing across the sky, but in this case you must realize that the cycle of the sun does not mark the cycle of time. In places like Tiffalor’s Loft there is no such thing as time, no clocks or watches, not even sun dials or egg timers. Things just happen when they happen if when can be used where there is no time. There is however night and day but folks in places like this call it simple Sunsky and Starsky. But there is one thing that contradicts a no time zone, which nobody in Tiffalor’s Loft seemed to be bothered with. The moon, which was huge went through its cycle from new to full and from full to knew. If the locals called it anything at all it was simply a thing of nature and not for us to question.
The street went ahead as straight as a pin for some distance. It etched between two rows of shops on the east and on the west side of the street, which was paved in gray cobble stones. There were carriages, mostly small, hauled by what we would know as Welsh ponies or something along that nature, and dog carts which are smaller yet and drawn by dogs, of course but also goats, so I guess those would be called goat carts. What Picaroon noticed was there was nothing big about anything and the buildings were mostly single with the odd two story which general bore a sign dedicating it as an Inn. Contrary to that when the road divided where the grotto widened the was an octagonal building that reminded Picaroon of a pagoda which was six tiers high. The sign benoting its purpose read, House Of The Central Council of Or’ Yon’ Der Valley.
“Of course. It is not really Tiffalor’s Loft, at least not here over the Crossing Place.” Picaroon noted amusedly. “I must start using its proper name and it might be clever to stop in and announce my arrival.”
Just as he said that a fellow came out from a Vegetable Market shop not bothering to lock up. When he spied Picaroon he became cautious but approached Picaroon anyway.
Picaroon was delighted at seeing the vegetable marketer was in fact a ground hog of an anthropomorphic nature and speaking an old dialect of English Picaroon could not remember the name of. He stood about thirty inches tall and was dressed in a shop keepers trousers and shirt and still wore an apron.
When he was near he said, Carrot.” And handed Picaroon a carrot, nicely trimmed and peeled.
“Thank you.” Picaroon accepted and took a bite.
While he chewed the Ground hog said, Jen’ Ord Root is my name. I don’t recall seeing the likes of you anywhere in Or’ Yon’ Der, though I saw monsters of your kind in story books.”
“Well Mr. Root. My name is Picaroon Crookback. I have just come over the crossing place because your council said Or’ Yon’ Der was in big trouble or was going to be in big trouble soon. I am not sure which.”
“Ah. The Council and you probably spoke to that Satyr Vido who is the worst of all the council for stirring up trouble with his conspiracy theories about someone always wanting to take over the valley.” Replied the vegetable vendor, with a rift of politeness toward the council.
“It seems the others agree with him this time.” Picaroon said back.
“Well then that’s something to consider.” Said Jen’ Ord Root. “What’s it all about then?”
“It is about a Mundanie Magician who is a fake but who stole a magic book and the green eye to read it with from my auntie Penelopy, who is a witch and I was chosen for the job because she is dead and I am her nephew and it all falls to me.”
“Ah. A fake Magician. Well he’s visited here and seems not so fake. He offered our village great rewards if we help him convince the council to allow him to build a great fortress on the plateau at the north end of the valley. He claims that a great horde was coming from another dimension to try and conquer Or’ Yon’ Der and his intention was to protect us. He sad the horde would come through the north east gap.”
“Did you agree?” Picaroon queried.
“We said we would take it up with the council and they said they would take it up with the proper authorities on such matters which seems to be you.” The groundhog replied.
“So he is here already and already working on his plan.” Picaroon said more to himself than the groundhog.
“What plan would that be.” Jen’ Ord inquired suspiciously.
“I am not exactly sure but I think he wants to invent time here.” Picaroon replied thoughtfully.
“What is time?” The Vegetable vendor asked innocently.
“Never you mind my furry friend. You really don’t want to know. But tell me when was he here?”
“Ah. New Moon Last. It is half-moon wax now.”
“So. He could make time work because the moon goes through its phases which marks time but has not touched the valley. And he could make a magical moon clock.” Picaroon thought.
The night grew. The half moon waxed across the night sky against the back drop of starts. Falling stars streaked across the darkness and something twinkled far beyond.
It was obvious that the council had not been entirely transparent the people of Or’ Yon” Der. They knew a lot more than they were telling but maybe that is a good thing, or maybe I have come in a time before they knew what Badmash is up to. “Maybe I have time to stop him before he gets started. Maybe I am here to take back the back…Maybe. A dash, why am I here? “ Picaroon said out loud.
“I can tell you.” A cranky old but familiar voice came to mind.
“Auntie Penelopy.” Picaroon whispered as he turned in a circle until finally, in the circle of light from a street lamp Penelopy appeared. “Auntie.” He said again and went to her. “But you…you were murdered by Badmash. How can you be here?”
“It’s a tough thing to answer nephew in a few words. Just be glad I can be, I came to help as I can and that is with knowledge. Let us go for a brew at a tavern and I’ll tell you all about it.”
In a few minutes they were sitting in a booth in a small tavern sipping ale.
“Are my parents here?” Picaroon voiced a thought.
“No nephew. Not here.”
“Auntie. Are they still alive?”
“Like I am alive to you now Picaroon. Just leave it at that. Someday you will know all you need to know. For now you have a job to do and it means going up against Gafrinker Badmash.”
“Do I have to rescue the book and eye?” Picaroon asked nervously.
“If you can that would be good but for now you must stop the fake magician from creating time. He wants to build a clock tower where he can build a clock that will start time here in Or’ Yon’ Der. He has the magic to seep the life from the people as they age or maybe age them as he seeps their life. They will learn about having children because he will teach them. They will be born and die and all that life will make him immortal as long as he keeps returning with the motion of the moon and his clock.”
“How can I stop him if he has the magic book and eye and I have no magic.” Picaroon challenged.
“The clock will be magic because he puts the moon magic in it, but the clock itself will be just metal and wood, gears and springs like any other clock and maybe steam. You need but keep the clock from starting or if it does start find a way to stop it. If it stops before the full cycle of the moon things will go back to the way they were and no one will remember it ever happened.’
“What about after a full cycle Auntie.”
“Then its done. Or’Yon’ Der will have time forever and the only thin left is to keep Badmash from stealing the life they expend.” Penelopy answered miserably.
“Then I ha better stop him before that happens, even if I have to kill him. I hate the thought of committing murder, but I will if no other way can be found.” Picaroon replied.
And at that Auntie Penelopy vanished, ale and all.
The barmaid came to the booth not surprised that Picaroon was alone. She set another mug of ale on the table and smiled warmly. “She said it was for you.” The barmaid explained. Picaroon didn’t try to figure it out. Instead he asked, “How far is it to the plateau?”
“Four hundred leagues as the crow flies, if a crow would fly so far.” The barmaid answer then hurried away.
“Fourteen hundred miles if I know my leagues and miles right. That is a very long walk or ride in a carriage. If only I could fly…or…Geez. Of course. I can higher an airship. But in the morning. I am too tired to go any further today…tonight. I’ll get a room at an Inn.”
Chapter 4
First thing in the morning Picaroon went straight to the pagoda building and sought out Vido. He wondered why the council house was all the way in the south and not somewhere in the middle, a question Vido answered with an odd sort of logic. “Because that is the way it is and no one wants to change the way things are.”
The council was in the top tier. The other six were vacant. Picaroon decided it wasn’t worth asking why because he didn’t think it would serve any purpose and besides he wasn’t open to dealing with any more of Vido’s logic.
“Who are you and why are you here?” Vido inquired authoritatively.
“Well, that answers that question.” Picaroon replied. “You haven’t visited Chapman Tiffalor yet.”
“How would you…how could you possibly know that we plan to visit Mundanieland. We only spoke of it to the Witch Penelopy just last sunset.” Vido shot back in surprise.
“I am Penelopy’s nephew.”
Silence. The members of the council just stared dumbfoundedly at Picaroon.
“Well. That’ll put a slant on things.” Said a council member who looked like a bull frog said slowly. “Do we visit Mundieland or not, since what we planned to do in the first place is already done.”
Picaroon found a place to sit at the big seven sided table with benches long enough for a dozen on each bench. He said thoughtfully. Things go around and come around and since you have no concept of a certain element of Mundanieland I should think that you have already accomplished your goal and doing it twice would just complicate things.”
The Frog, who name was Julup Croaker said, “Ah. He speaks in riddles without knowing we are aware of the riddle of the moon and how it explains the riddle of time. Yes. We know what time is but not at all how it works except that it would do us grave harm should such a plague touch our valley.”
“Well, that helps.” Picaroon replied. “And that means you know that Gafrinker Badmash has every intention of bringing the time plague here.”
“He will try.” Said a councilor who looked like a fox said. “But Penelopy said help might come if we could talk to Chapman Tiffalor and apparently we did, some how though I or we have no idea how we did so.”
“Time is not all bad.” Picaroon replied, but it is mostly and it makes people grow old and die and…well…you don’t want the plague and you don’t want Badmash stealing you life. So I…or we, must stop him before it’s too late.”
“He has already started to build his tower. He claims it is part of a fortress to protect us from invaders.” Said the Satyr.
“Hmm. It’s gone that far and I suppose he has already built his forge as well.” Picaroon muttered.
“And he has convinced the mountain dwarves to dig him up coal.” Said a council member who was a dwarf. “My own people. I find it embarrassing.”
“Don’t be. He has a magic book that he can get spells from to mesmerize people. They probably believe they are digging for black diamonds.” Picaroon countered.
“Puffaw. There’s no such thing as black diamonds.” Argued the dwarf.
“True but coal does eventually become diamonds…with time.” Picaroon explained.
“With time. Without time there’d be no diamonds and without diamonds there’d be no jewels. So time is not all bad and it lives in the ground beneath our feet.” The dwarf babbled on. I must go dig with my people.”
“Stop.” Picaroon yelled as loud as he could and everyone jumped and the Dwarf, Rufus Pickaxe was his name frozen in his tracks. “You will stay here. Time does not live in the ground and diamonds are formed by pressure. Time is just a façade. The pressure does not need it. But you can see how Badmash’s magic works even without the magic book and spell.”
Rufus plopped back into his seat and grumbled, “Yes I understand and yes this plague called time is very bad.”
“But how can you stop him.” Vido queried worriedly.
“I must go there but not alone. I will need help. Do you have anyone who know about forges, gears, and steam.” Picaroon inquired.
“Yes. Our train masters know all about these things. They are dwarves and very clever but I am afraid a little naïve as well.’ Said Rufus.
“We must find one that is not naïve then.”
“I guess that would be me since I know at least to watch for the tricks. And I am a Master train master.” Rufus volunteered.
“Then we will leave for the Plateau as soon as possible and we will need an Airship. Any thing on the ground would take to long to travel such a great distance.” Picaroon advised.
“I am afraid that certain aspects of time do not require magic, just certain words.” Vido muttered. “Words we must never allow to run rampant in the valley.”
Picaroon thought of a reply, “It will be all about timing, doing things at just the right time,” but he decided to keep that to himself. Time was already being troublesome enough without adding more words to the plague.
I am the Commander of the Airship Fleet said a councilor who looked like an eagle…and was an eagle. I will assign our best Pedalers, four I think should be enough to reach the Plateau by first light after the next moon wax.”
Picaroon sat back and contemplated the passing of the moon. Indeed there was a form a time in Or’ Yon’ Der but it did not effect things, people, in particular but it did effect plants. Plants grew, blossomed and produce food. Trees were growing, “It’s just people, animal people that time does not effect.” He thought and then only because they do not understand the concept of it.
If they ever learn what a clock is. Oh bosh this is too complicated. I must stop trying to understand. They don’t have time here so I must stop it from coming and that means stopping Badmash. Stop him now before he gets anything significant built. When we leave everything will go back to normal. These people will forget we even exist, except in fairytales.”
“We must get there as soon as possible, and best if it is by night. This night.” He ordered aloud and at that they all jumped up and set out.
Before the sun was at its zenith they were high in the sky with not one but two Pedalers and two props pushing them with haste northward.
In the gondola Picaroon said to Rufus. “I must use words that will alarm you Rufus. I must use time and timing so that we can work efficiently together.”
“I know of timing. Our trains run on timing. The gears must be timed and that means I know something about the plague time. But until now I was never concerned. I know that in time our gears wear out.” Said the dwarf.
“Very well. Then you will understand that Badmash is making a magic clock to bring the time plague to the valley and the clock works on gears, timing, and steam, very much like your trains but instead of turning wheels the gears turn arms around a face with numbers on it. It is that we must stop as much as we stop Badmash from casting a spell on the machine. I do not know myself what that magic is but it will make your people grow old and die and …well…”
“Yes Picaroon. I understand and I am glad I understand because in understanding I think I know what needs to be done. I will take care of the machine and you take care of Badmash and his foul book.”
The roles were set and easily done so and Picaroon was glad of that because until Rufus solved the puzzle of who would do what Picaroon had no idea how he was going to explain it.
Chapter 5
The half moon was at its greatest height when they began descending into Plateau Town. Deep in the alcove of the plateau was the beginnings of a fortress and in the foreground burned a great forge. Mountainous piles of coal stood all around and dwarves were working like slaves, unaware of their plight. In the centre of the fortress stood the rudiments of what would become a gigantic steam clock.
Coal was being shoveled into the furnace and the first clouds of black smoke billowed from the chimneys. Rufus Pickaxe said distraughtly, “ What are they doing. They know better than that. They are dwarves. They should never burn coal and allow it to go untreated into the air. They know about filters and scrubbers and soot diffusers. We have that magic. And those chimneys are much to short. I cannot believe my people have done this. If the wind blows the wrong way the smoke will choke the valley.”
“Then first we must stop the furnaces.” Picaroon suggested.
“But that would only be a temporary fix. We must go for the root of the danger and hope the wind blows northward. I see the gears being molded and smoothed and many are already in place.” Rufus described. But I know what to do that will keep this machine from starting. This thing you call a clock is truly a monstrous thing. There is magic in it already and the magic is foul, set by a foul practitioner.”
“Then you know that magic is not inherently good or evil. Only the practitioner.” Picaroon said.
“Yes. Penelopy taught us well about the little magic we have.” Rufus said.
“Auntie never told me about this place.” Picaroon said thoughtfully. Then he asked, “What will you do?”
Nothing mechanical runs without all its parts and if you remove just the right part it is difficult to determine why the machine won’t run. I see the steam drive turns a main crank that bears the main gear, but there are many gears I see to operate this clock. Take out just one small seemingly insignificant gear and the whole issue just sits there steaming and puffing but nothing moves. I’ll take a small gear that won’t get noticed because there will be several builders and one builder will be depending on another to do his job right. I’ll take a gear that will force the builders to take the whole thing apart, or at least half of it.”
“That will give me plenty of time to deal with Badmash.” Picaroon replied.
“My job is easy compared to yours my friend. Anyone who would do this must be purely and certainly the most evil creature that ever lived. He deserves to die I think.”
“Maybe he does deserve to die Rufus, but it is not for me to make that choice. In my world its up to the courts and when I am done here I must deal with him there, he having murdered auntie Penelopy in Mundanieland.”
“We know of murder because even here it happens, when a citizen goes suddenly mad, but we have never been able to understand why it happens. We banish the citizen who is ushered off over the mountains.” Rufus said.
“What lies beyond the mountains?” Picaroon asked.
Rufus shrugged his shoulders, “No one knows. We just know that no one has ever come back.”
“Well Rufus, we all have our mysteries to solve or leave, but right now there is no mystery, just a job for each of us to do and hope we get it right. Now go find your gear and maybe try and snap your people out of Badmash’s spell.”
“I have an idea and it will certain cause a ruckus if I can get the dwarves singing a might beer drinking song. They must stop to rest sometime.” Rufus replied hopefully.
But first they had to land the airship out of sight and to do that they had to set it down below the plateau and then climb up the cliff, a least three hundred feet nearly straight up. Little did they know that spies had spied the ship and quickly run off to report the intrusion to Badmash, who merely shrugged his shoulders and ordered his minion guards to deal harshly with the interlopers. At that time it cannot be ascertained if he knew who Picaroon Crookback was or what he was up to. He simply knew that intruders of any sort meant trouble and he wanted none of it. He want his magic clock to tick and tock and bring time to the minds and bodies of the people of Or’ Yon’ Der.
***
Now for a moment we must leave our friends in Or’ Yon’ Der and look in on Chapman Tiffalor because things were not going well for him at Tiffalor House and it had a great deal to do with the events curling about in Tiffalor’s Loft.
I am sure you have heard of Gafrinker Badmash, especially if you have ever read the story of The Old Man and His Dragon which can be found in The Chronicles Of Tanglemind. If not maybe you should someday.
If things in Or’ Yon’ Der get resolved none of what you are about to read will have happened, but in the moment, while Picaroon Crookback was sparring with evil in that place known here as Tiffalor’s Loft Chapman Tiffalor was dealing with his own dilemma of evil, which somehow crept through the eddies and cracks sometimes found in the crossing place and allows all sorts of thing…and people through into places they don’t belong at times when the shouldn’t be there.
Please keep in mind that time is erratic and merely a concept for people who need to follow the ticking and tocking of the clock. Sometimes a minute is an hour and sometimes it can be forever…or it seems like that.
Chapman Tiffalor watched Picaroon take the leap into the loft. He watched him disappear into the mist and finally saw him standing on the Cloud Bridge in the Crossing Place. Then Picaroon faded with the bridge, but just before the clouds and mist dissipated there was an enormous flash of lightning and crash of thunder no longer than half a second later and Chapman was never sure if it came from the Crossing Place or out side of Tiffalor House. But in the end the only thing that mattered was a knock came to the front door then it burst open and something ghostly and dark ushered in with heavy menacing foot thuds. And it wasn’t until the dark shape formed completely that Chapman Tiffalor knew just how much trouble he was in.
“Dear me. What ever are you here for. I kept my side of the bargain.” Chapman said to the intruder.
“I agree. I must agree. You open the portal for me to enter your loft world. But now you are a traitor because you allowed an enemy to entre and I am charging you with the task of ridding me of him. I am talking about that scoundrel Picaroon Crookback. I saw him, or rather my spies saw him in his airship and he has landed it in Plateau Town. And I am sure he will be up to no good.
I would deal with it myself but I am very busy right now and cannot afford to be distracted.”
Chapman Tiffalor is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a courageous man. In fact he borders on cowardly. But even the most feint of hearts have their moment of bravery and, for what ever reason Chapman was struck with one of those moment as he stood before Gafrinker Badmash.
Said he in a most forceful voice which the fake magician was not expecting. “Badmash. When you came to me wanting entrance to my Loft I was afraid, yes very afraid and that made me cowardly. I was afraid because I knew you had committed murder once and would not hesitate to do so again if it suited your needs. I was afraid because you had the book of magic and the green eye to read it with and finally I was afraid because I was afraid to die, but I have learned something since then. I have learned that death is not the end really. It is the end of this mundanie existence yes, but not of the spirit that is me and the spirit of me is immortal. Maybe that is something you should consider. Maybe you are depriving yourself by trying to make your corporeal self-immortal, which by the way is a very confined limited existence and merely a stepping stone to something far more exciting and adventurous, a lesson I learned from your victim Penelopy Crookback.”
“Well then you won’t mind if I stick with my knife and send you to your immortality.” Replied the false magician.
“Actually I would mind. I have not completed my task in this life so I would chose to live.” Replied Chapman.
And with those words the two men in mortal form set to in a fight that went from the loft, down the stairs and up the stairs and everywhere a fight could go in the house, which was just about everywhere, Badmash with his knife and Chapman with piece of wood he snatched up while running through a work shop, somewhere in the bowels of the house.
But having a weapon brief delayed Badmash’s wrath and as they went up and down again and came again to the Loft Badmash thrust one time when Chapman’s back was turned and stuck the blade deep into the flesh. Chapman gasped, turned abruptly, grasped at air and watched as Gafrinker Badmash faded to thin air. He uttered desperately. “Oh my. Beware Picaroon Crookback. I am no longer here to abide your needs.” And he crumpled to the floor on the landing above Tiffalor’s Loft.
Chapter 6
Gafrinker Badmash had a terrible advantage. He had a time travel spell and when his efforts to create time in other places in the treatise called Tanglemind, which takes place in his future he decided to go back to a time and place no one knew him and no one attempt to stop him. But as he made his plans and launched his campaign to conquer Or’ Yon’ Der all his conniving fell to shreds because Chapman Tiffalor had gone turncoat. And even after he murdered the turncoat he was still daunted by Picaroon Crookback who seemed to have a link of his own to the valley country.
When he returned from his did at Tiffalor House he thought Picaroon would be gone but he stood in his plateau lodge looking out the window watching as the airship descended to the town below.
Angrily he created a fire ball and was going to toss at the airship but just as he flung it the thing burst into dazzling, actually delightful sparkles and rain harmlessly down on the plateau which attracted the attention of the slave dwarves who all stopped working to marvel at the sight, and just at the same moment there come from the coal heaps a dwarf drinking song that started all the slaves dwarves stomping their feet and singing along, forgetting their slavery tasks.
And who knows where they came from but every dwarf had a jug of beer in his hand and they made a big wide circle and started dancing diesel, without spilling a drop of beer.
And then she appeared with a smile and a glint in her eyes. She had not managed to stop the fake magician entirely but she did avert the fire ball to harmlessness and she slowed the forging of metal for gears and iron plate for the fortress.
“Penelopy Crookback. How can you be here. I murdered you cleanly. You are dead.” Cried Badmash.
“You murdered that mortal thing I inhabited, not my spirit.” The Caboose witch replied merrily. And if I could halt your efforts here wholly I would but for some reason even I cannot see I can but make life difficult for a moment for you. Slow you down and,” waving her hand in a twirl, “make you wet your trousers and since you cannot change your trousers here because they are part of what you are you must return to Mundieland to change and that will delay you just a hint more.”
At that Badmash scowled meanly and looked down at the legs of his magicians trousers now wet with pee. Then he vanished, red faced with embarrassment.
Penelopy laughed out loud as she faded and returned to where ever she was calling home in her after mortal life.
The beer was drunk, the song was done, but the sun too was gone and the dusk was fading. The dwarves went off to there gruel and kip autonomously because the spell though interrupted had not been broken. Still, the fires of the forge and kilns and molds had all gone cold and would take day to raise again.
“Its is quiet on the plateau.” Said Rufus Pickaxe.
“I hear that.” Replied Picaroon Crookback. “We must take advantage of the night while all are sleeping. I wonder if Badmash is still watching?”
“I think not. Before I came down from the sing song on a gust of air that picked me off the cliff and set me down in your presence I saw Badmash who was out on his balcony, fade and vanish.” Rufus said.
“There seems to be some helpful magic afoot my friend and I suspect it is coming from auntie Penelopy, though I do not know how I know that or how she managed it. Nor does it really matter. What does matter is that we get up to the plateau and do what damage we can do to stop Badmash’s madness.”
“We need not climb if Badmash is away. Let us use the airship. We will be a lot in minutes rather than hours of climbing.” Rufus said.
Picaroon said anxiously, “Oh dear. It has started already, even without the tick tocking of the clock. “You said minutes and minutes is a measure of time. We must hurry and we must do our task in a way that returns you and yours to a time before Badmash came. Oh dear it is getting terrible like the wind before the storm. Hurry. Hurry. Take us up.”
The airship began to rise, straight up the cliff side and when it reached to edge of the cliff the Pedalers pedaled the ship into a position for landing.
And nothing on the plateau moved or made a sound except a wind that spoke from the north. Rufus said, “A north wind is never a good wind for it brings storms swooping down into the valley, but such things happen only when things are amiss beyond the mountains.”
Picaroon shivered then his mind was filled with the flash of a horrifying vision. For a split second he spied Tiffalor on the floor of the landing above Tiffalor’s Loft, still and silent with a knife protruding from his back.
“We must hurry. We must turn back time.” Picaroon cried out not caring in that moment if Rufus knew or cared about the plague of time.
“I will snatch the gear. You go deal with Badmash.” Said Rufus who was already bounding toward the pile of smoothed gears.
Picaroon was just half way to the fake magician’s lodge, a Swiss chalet affair when of a sudden he came to a skidding halt. There, just ahead stood a beast, something out of the darkest of all fairy tales and horror stories, salivating and gnashing its teeth with a sword in one hand and claws bared.
“This just keeps getting better.” Picaroon cried out as he stood there gawking at the werecat, not knowing what he could do to keep from being killed, with no weapon at hand.
The Werecat approached with stealth, warily even though it must have known it had a great advantage. Picaroon backstepped wondering why the beast had not attacked, but when he took just one more step it disappeared.
To test a theory that popped into his mind Picaroon took two steps forward and the beast reappeared the disappeared when he backed away.
Picaroon picked up a stone and stepped forward again. When he threw the stone at the beast, straight at the chest so he couldn’t miss the thing went through it harmlessly.
Then Picaroon moved even closer and closer and as he approached the Werecat he waited for the attack, which came but nothing happened. The Werecat went straight through Picaroon harmlessly, just like the rock had gone through the beast.
“An illusion.” Picaroon laughed. Just an illusion, a fake created by a fake. But why not use real magic drawn from the book?” Picaroon wondered aloud.
And the explanation came in a slow breeze like fashion as the idea grew. “Something has happened.”
Picaroon continued toward the chalet lodge more careful to watch for traps and maybe something that wasn’t an illusion and well he did because… well something crazy mad happened just as he crossed the threshold into the chalet. The illusion was a fake to hide the real magic so that the intruder might let down his guard, which foolishly Picaroon did thinking that somehow Badmash could no longer use the book, which was wrong thinking. The trap he looked for snatched at him when he was watching the closest for the trap was real magic.
Chapter 7
The fires and forges, molds and furnaces were all up and running full blast and the work force of slave dwarves had been doubled. The steam engine to drive the clock was in place and the gear plate and motor arms were installed. Several gears had already been attached. And Gafrinker Badmash sat in his favour armchair staring menacingly and joyfully at the prisoner locked in a cage. Avery special cage constructed of snakes with long venomous fangs.
It was of course Picaroon in the cage.
***
Rufus had long since buried an interlocking gear of such a small nature that it could go unnoticed while the clock was being built. It was a tiny thing that done right was connected to another gear just a little larger which was connected to another gear quite a bit larger, but with out the tiny gear nothing would turn above it and thus the tick and the tock would not work. The best part of this was even the designer of the machine would take a long time to discover the error because that little gear could not be seen unless you were standing in exactly the right place with your head cocked at just the right angle and your eye and the light worked together to see the glint of the gear, which was faint because, though it was exquisitely smooth it was not shiny. It was but a polished dull grey.
Pleased with his work Rufus set out to discover where Picaroon had gotten to and what had become of him. It seemed to the dwarf that his consort in covert action had been gone considerably longer than he should have been.
He was making toward the airship when he saw a light in the upper window of the chalet. It was a large window so he could see most of the room and what he saw was Badmash sitting in his chair and Picaroon imprisoned in the cage of snakes.
When he arrived at last at the airship he was stricken with despair unable to come up with a reasonable plan to rescue his friend and cohort. And for a long time he tarried in the gondola trying to come up with something workable cause he could not think how a dwarf could out clever a magician with a book of magic.
“What should we do Rufus?” aske one of the Pedalers.
“If only I knew Wibble. If only I knew.” Rufus replied distractedly.
“Might I make a suggestion?” The Pedaler inquired.
“Of course Wibble, if you have something in mind?”
“I think desperate situation sometimes need even more desperate resolves and I have thought of something desperately desperate and costly as well.” Wibble answered.
“Do tell Pedaler.”
“Well sir, we have this airship and we could float it and set it on course toward the lodge and ram it with the gondola causing not only damage but a decent diversion while we go in and rescue our friend. We will need something to break up the snakes.”
“And maybe the gondola id built stronger than the lodge, and the lodge will take more damage and leave the gondola useable so we can escape.”
And, by gummy it worked, maybe even better than they hoped because when the gondola hit the windows they disintegrated and when it smashed into the room it sent Badmash ass over Tea kettle across the room and down the stair and when that happened the snakes uncoiled from their cage shape and slithered away, down the stairs right behind Badmash and before you could say jack rabbit Picaroon was in the gondola, which was hardly damaged at all and the Pedalers back pedaled with all their strength and retracted the airship from the mess of the lodge.
And they flew off with Badmash standing at his front door shaking a mad fist at them while reading his magic book looking for a spell to retaliate with, but jus then Penelopy appeared and knocked him askew, and though she tried she could not steal back the book or green eye.
And down they went to Plateau Town where no one had even an inkling what went on over their heads and went about their evening business merrily as ever they did on a thousand time ten evenings before.
But, as you may already realize, of that happened the forges and furnaces molds and plating, rivets and screws were still being made and all that was left for them counted on that single nearly invisible little gear and, as Picaroon said, “There might be a retaliation but hopefully I can make one more try for the magic book and the eye or at least discover a way to banish Badmash from this place forever.
Picaroon was up in the airship the next day doing nothing but staring at the gorge between two mountains that made up the back side of the plateau. After a while he returned to the ground and asked again of Rufus.
He said, “Rufus, even if you are not sure do you have any inkling what is beyond the mountains?”
“I know lore of a kind, but you must know about lore. It is as valid as myths and legends.” Replied Rufus.
“Tell me the lore.” Demanded Picaroon.
“If you climb up from the plateau, about near the top of the valley between the mountain peaks there is a cavern. The cavern it is said goes under the earth and comes out the other side. It is said there is a sea there, the very sea that feeds the waters of our rivers and lakes. And there are monsters in that sea that eat anyone who dares go through the cavern.”
“Ok, but what if we fly?” Picaroon queried.
“I don’t know and to be honest I don’t want to know. Besides what good will it be to know against our nemesis of now?”
“I tell you when I know unless you care to go with me over the Northern peaks to have a look. Maybe there will be help to be had.” Said Picaroon.
“I’ll not let our paladin go into unknown dangers alone though it may be my death.” Said Rufus.
bravely, though nervously.
“And you will need an experienced Pedaler.” Said Wibble.
“Then we have a company of adventurers.” Picaroon replied cheerfully.
“We will go by night.” Wibble suggested. “That way we may get past the plateau unseen, before the moon rises.”
“Well thought out Pedaler Wibble. You I am sure will prove most helpful on our exploration.”
And so it was all set for a clandestine voyage into an unknown region and had Badmash known he might have been Leary but he didn’t because Wibble was quite right. No one saw or heard them soaring up past the plateau and ever the valley between the two mountain peaks.
And you will learn everything that happened in the strange land over the mountain but first I must tell you what happened while our heroes were away. It was indeed the best of things and the worst of things.
Chapter 8
Gafrinker Badmash was mad with anger over what Picaroon Crookback had done to his house and wanted revenge, which might have been sort of good and sort of bad. Bad because someone…or ones would suffer the consequences, but in the end nothing ever successful comes out of revenge and your efforts usually backfire.
Badmash conjured up a band of gargoyles, of the nasties sort to go down into the valley and bring Picaroon and the dwarf Rufus back to the plateau for punishment. But after an extensive search the gargoyles returned with news that Picaroon and Rufus had left the valley country by means unknown but most like by magic. Which we know is not the case at all but if anyone knew no one was saying the truth.
And that made Badmash even crazy madder and nearly insane with the lust for revenge and since he couldn’t get revenge on Picaroon and company he decided to take it out on Or’ Yon’ Der. But he decided to wait until the clock was finished and started time flowing across the valley country. Besides that is what his objective was. Invent time, make things grow old while he tapped the life essence for his own and make him immortal.
It took some time to complete the clock but one day the clock maker came to Badmash and with a bow and no little pride he announce the clock was ready to tick and tock.
So elated was Badmash that he invited as many people of the valley to the plateau as could fit to witness the starting of the clock and the invention of passing time, though the latter would not be realized for a least months and what would really be interesting and frightening would be the birth of animals and then children and they mother and father would see the infant grow.
But of course none of that happened when Badmash expected it to happen.
All the guest were gathered…oh…wait…I forgot…The valley folk, save for a very few who wanted things kept quiet knew just how terrible Badmash was. They knew he was a mystery and there is no such thing as a good mystery but they didn’t know he was a murderer and an enslaver of dwarfs and a creator of a plague that would ultimately ruin their lives…in time.
Now, as I was saying, all the guest were gathered on the plateau watching as firemen stoked the steam engine into life and listened to this that and another whistle blow a tune, which you would know if you had heard it because every one has heard the bells of Big Ben or the Whistle of the steam clock in Gastown in the city of Vancouver.
And when the tune was played and the drive arm began to drive, much like it works on steam train only up and down instead of back and forth. And the main gear began to gear and the next gear drove the next and the next and it should have gone all the way up to turn the second hand, the minute hand and finally the hour hand. There should have been a loud tick and a loud tock and a wave of something strange should have swept over them and the whole valley, but none of that happened. Instead, the gear spun and spun but only about mid-way to the top. The gears above remained absolutely still as the arms of the clock and there was not even one tick let alone a tock.
And if Gafrinker Badmash had been able to blow steam out a blown gasket he would have, but instead his face turned bloody red and a scream like a tormented whistle came from his mouth bearing the fired words, “Where is the clock maker. Bring me the clock maker so I can lop off his ugly head. Where is my clock and where is time passing. What has gone wrong.”
And a flock of gargoyles delivered the clock maker to Badmash’s feet who said with a flood of fear and tears, “Master Badmash. I know not what has gone wrong. I must inspect the machine for if the upper gears will not move something is amiss in the lower gears and that can only be that a gear is missing, a key gear.”
One cam never tell what a mad man’s mind will do but on this occasion something incredible happened. Badmash, instead of getting even angrier, nearly laughed because he knew at that moment that he had been tricked. But the humour only lasted a minute and was soon replaced by a deep quiet anger the precedes a horrifying outburst.
And oddly he said in a quiet controlled voice. “Clock Maker, we have been bamboozled by Picaroon Crookback and his confederates and I am as nearly responsible for this as you. So ask in my best mood voice that you discover what has gone a miss and fix it as soon as possible. My time is running out. Soon I will be taken back to Mundanie if I can’t make this fool clock create time passing. It is the only way I can move back and forth and, so on and still be immortal.”
“I will work as quickly as possible Master Badmash, but not so quickly as to over look something. I suspect it will take several day to check every gear to see which one is missing and then it will take time to find the missing gear or remold another.”
“Go then and make my clock go tick and tock as soon as you can.” Badmash said with something as near tolerance as he could manage. Then he turned to the people of the valley country and said in a deep and severe voice. “I give you this chance to turn my enemy over to me or at least tell me where they are.”
Out of the crowd came a Pedaler and yes the partner of Wibble whose name was Gunner. “I know.” He said. “They have gone out of Or’ Yon’ Der in an airship. They have gone beyond the mountain.”
Gunner did not tattle because he wanted to tattle. He tattled because he knew if he didn’t Badmash would exact such revenge of the valley people that they would never recover from the sorry[ow that would come of it.
Badmash should have been thankful but instead he turned as white in the face as he had turned red not just an hour before and one could see in his eyes a fear no man had ever shown before.
Quickly Badmash turned and ran to his lodge which had been sufficiently repaired to live in. He went to a special and hidden room with all kinds of locks and spells on the door and it took him several minutes to undo them all. The he went inside and lock it sufficiently but not so tight as he couldn’t get out quickly. Then he went to a lectern upon which laid a book, the book, the book of magic and from beneath his shirt he drew the green eye which hung on a golden chain.
With a dead calmness in his deepest spirit he opened the book and sought out a magic that would turn failure into victory, or so he believed.
When he found the incantation he spoke the words softly. And soon, outside in the valley everything stopped including the valley people. Then he said, any one who enters the valley will be stilled and it will remain so until my clock is ticking and tocking and I have had my revenge on my enemy. Let the word go out across the dimensions what I have done so Picaroon will be obliged to return so I may punish him.” The quieter he spoke the deeper into madness his anger drove him.
Chapter 9
Now over the mountain where this story takes a very weird change in direction but doesn’t change the purpose. In fact it proved in the end to be the resolve of the whole ugly issue, however indirectly and it involves time and space shifts.
You know of and have briefly experience the Crossing place where you move from one dimension to the next or experience a kind of juxtaposed lateral shift. It all feels the same and the dynamics are the same, its simply a matter of configuration.
So when Picaroon and Rufus came over the mountain the found the sea just like Rufus had described only it was a salt so there was magic at hand when the water from that sea seeped into Or’ Yon’ Der.
It is only fair that I tell you directly, though I slightly alluded to it earlier that this story is an extension, a prequel if you will to tales remitted under the general title of Tanglemind and that Gafrinker Badmash is a major villain throughout. You might also like to know that this story is not so far off its own version of ending but like all such stories they never really end. They just change.
Not far out to sea they spied a shoreline but before they actually reached it they came to a place where the airship descended and landed of its own accord and they were on a bridge made of sea spray, a very dense sort of spray that took their weight. They had just disembarked from the airship when it faded away. The after only a few steps they found them selves on a pier with a sign that read, The Port Docks Of Lightfield Harbour. And to Picaroon’s surprise and delight he was met by Penelopy Crookback whom as you know is his aunt and a witch, who was murdered by Badmash but only in Mundanieland so you can guess from that that, that Lightfield harbour was not located in Mundanieland but it was only a Juxtaposed Shift from being there and known as Raintown or more technically Vancouver. But what is most interesting I not far from that dock was a clock…a steam clock that looked amazingly like Badmash’s steam clock in Or’ Yon’ Der, only not made of iron.
From the dock they took a single step, including Auntie Penelopy and they were all standing next to that clock wrapped in an early evening mist.
“Should I ask why we are here and why and how you are here,” Picaroon asked of his aunt.
“How nephew is a matter of pretty ordinary magic that even you could do if you wished but it also happens quite on its own. As for me, this is where I am now and probably where I was before I had my journey through Mundanieland and was murdered. Did you know that being murdered hurts terrible but only for a second and there is a kind of euphoria that accompanies you through the change which I suppose is just another version of the Crossing place.”
“Sure. That’s all nice Auntie but we have left our friends back in Or’ Yon’ Der in a pickle and we came over the mountain to see if we could find help.” Picaroon replied a little anxiously.
“I know and you will find it though not in the way you expect. You see this version of Lightfield Harbour is where the trouble with Gafrinker Badmash all began.” Penelopy replied.
“Ah. I see. We stop Badmash here in the past and every thing in the future changes.” Picaroon interjected.”
“Well no. I doesn’t work that way Nephew, though you will meet Badmash here when he first learned the art of slight of hand, Legerdemain it is called technically.” Penelopy inserted meaningfully.
“But I still don’t understand how this will help the valley people.” Picaroon argued.
Penelopy pointed at the steam clock. She said, “This is where Gafrinker Badmash came up with the idea of the clock time machine, after of course he attempted to use a magical egg timer, a rather large one I would add.”
“I still don’t get it Auntie.” Picaroon responded dolefully.
“I should have taught you more about transient magic when you were in my charge, more about magic of all kind, but I never dreamed you would become part of all this. Your parents tried everything to keep you out of it, but it seems if you are connected it will find you and get you involved no matter how hard some tries to protect you.”
“If I wasn’t confused before I am now. All I want to do is fix Or’ Yon’ Der and get back to being who I am…was…just a Hobo who lived in the Chicago Jungle.”
“Sorry kid. It’s too late for that. You are in it up to your bindle and by the way here is your bindle stick which you left behind at Tiffalor’s house.”
“That reminds me. Is he dead?”
“Not here and not now and that my young nephew is the solution to your quest to save Or’Yon’ Der.” Penelopy noted in a eureka moment. “Why didn’t I think of it before? But Your friends must go back. The can be of no help here.”
“I would be only to happy to leave this place. My heart is already feeling strange and I am thinking odd things that are terribly frightening. And worst of all I know what time is and for that might be good about it, it is inherently evil.” Rufus said.
“And that goes for me too.” Wibble piped up. “Now how do we get back if our airship is gone?”
Penelopy said warmly, “Just walk into the mist, both of you. You might want to hold hands so you arrive home together.”
They said their goodbyes and good lucks then turned and stepped into the mist gathering around the steam clock. Penelopy produce a wand of hemlock, twirled it twice diesel and whispered something. In the next step the Or’ Yon’ Ders took they faded away.
Penelopy sighed and said, I think first you see meet Gafrinker Badmash before he turned completely sour, though he was a mere murder away from becoming Gafrinker the Magnificent.”
“What was he before that?” Picaroon queried.
“Herman Heatmocker Legerdemain something or other.”
They came to a comedy club with three names displayed on the marquee, Herman Heatmocker’s was at the bottom.
Penelopy said, “He was not very good at it but managed to fake his way through.”
“And that is how he became know as a fake.” Picaroon mused.
They arrived just as Herman was being introduced and the reception was not becoming. There were even some boos involved but Herman continued and for once did manage to entertain the audience and received a fair applause for once. Of course he had a little help from the audience, Penelopy.
“Why did you help him. He will soon murder you and steal the book of magic and the green eye.” Picaroon scolded.
“Not matter what Nephew. It never hurts to be kind. Maybe that little kindness will help.” Penelopy replied hopefully…but as you already know, it didn’t.
“So what now?” Picaroon asked.
“Now we go visit Chapman Tiffalor. He too is a bit of a magic connoisseur, though he is but a student and does not practice it.” Penelopy answered thoughtfully.
“This is before he found your carcass in the caboose?!” Picaroon said.
“Yes but not so long as all that. This is when he bought his old van and was going on a tour to see the world, but you can’t leave Lightfield Harbour and remain in this Juxtaposition. Once you drive through mist you find yourself in Vancouver. But I won’t try and explain those dynamics now, or probably ever.”
They found Chapman at his job, working as a server in a coffee shop. They found him in fact on his last day already in possession of his van.
“Well. I seem to be a little off in my timing, a little further ahead in time. But it matters not. Before he gets away we must speak with him.” Penelopy noted.
And they did and this is what Picaroon said to him because it was picaroon who fit into the story you have just read most directly.
“Hey Chapman. Chapman Tiffalor. I must speak with you. There is something you must know, something you must know and not do in the future.” Picaroon beckoned the ex-café server just as he was going to climb into his new van.
“What. What’s that you say. Who are you?” Chapman responded curiously.
“Please listen and believe me. It will mean the world to some people very special to me.” Picaroon drew near and offered a hand shake saying, “My name is Picaroon Crookback.”
Chapman accepted the gesture and as he did Penelopy put her hand over both their hands.
Chapman swooned a little but collected himself with a shake of his head. “Ok. I will listen.” He said a little distractedly but staring straight at Picaroon.
“Ok. Good. “In the not too distant future much is going to happen but most importantly you are going to win an old manor house in a game of Jokers Wild.”
“Jokers Wild. I love that game and I am clever at it. I wouldn’t gamble a penny if I wasn’t.” Chapman interjected.
“Well you are going to gamble and win the manor. Then you will turn it into a special B&B for special people, using some books and witch’s stuff you will have acquired. Magic books and potions. You will create a place in the top of your house called Tiffalor’s Loft and it will be a very wonderful and magical place.”
“Funny thing you should mention that. I have always fantasized about creating a world, but only in a fairytale. I want to be a writer.” Chapman Interjected again.
Picaroon continued patiently.
“One night you are going to get a visit from a man who is going ask a favour. His read name is Herman Heatmocker and he is a magician. Not a good magician but he works very hard at it. But his over come by pride and desire and commits murder to acquire a vey special book of magic that requires a green eye to read. He is going to ask you to let him into Tiffalor’s Loft. He may use the name Gafrinker Badmash or another alias, but you will recognize him. He will be very fat and resemble half a bowling pin. What ever you do, DO NOT allow him access to Tiffalor’s Loft. His intentions are evil.”
Chapman climbed into his van and before he drove away he said. “We couldn’t allow evil into my dream then could we.” Then he drove off.
Chapter 10
A knock came to the front entrance of Tiffalor House. Chapman Tiffalor was not expecting anyone, at least not from the street. When he opened the door and saw a large, vey fat man who looked like half a bowling pin dressed up like a magician he immediately remembered something he had not thought about for years.
Sir. I am Gafrinker Badmash The Magnificent and a very talented magician. You may have heard of me. I come begging a favour because I have heard of you and your B&B and that you have a very special room called Tiffalor’s Loft. I am also aware that it requires very special permission to enter this room and only you Chapman Tiffalor has and can give that permission.”
“It is not permission exactly. It is a combination of an equation, a formula and an incantation, all applied in a certain order. But I will tell you now Herman Heatmocker. I know you murdered a witch named Penelopy and stole the book of magic and the green eye from her dead arms. I know this because in a strange way I inherited all that she left behind. I found her carcass you see and had had many dreams about the woods and the caboose.
But that is here nor there. My real point is Mr. Faker is, I will not give you permission even to cross the threshold into my house let alone to enter Tiffalor’s Loft. I know you for what you are and that is you are among the most evil of fiends. Now turn about and run away before I lose patience and call the police or better yet call on the ghost of Penelopy, the witch you murdered.”
Gafrinker turned deathly pale and sputtered, “But h…h…how could you know?”
“Real magic I think.”
***
And Tiffalor’s Loft/ or should I say/ Or’ Yon’ Der, never saw or even heard of Gafrinker Badmash and so there nothing out of the ordinary happened.
But somethings were not changed. Penelopy was still murdered though that could have been avoided if she had preferred, but she was rather enjoying her life much better in Lightfield Harbour than a reclusive witch living in a caboose in the woods just outside the village where Tiffalor House stood.
One evening some weeks after Chapman Tiffalor sent Badmash packing from his front door there came another knock. A quiet gentle thing that Chapman was almost expecting. He knew, or at least sensed who would be calling and when he opened the door and saw Picaroon Crookback standing there hat in one hand and bindle and bindle stick in the other he smiled and said, “I trust you are aware that I did as you asked and that all is well.”
Picaroon smile delightfully and replied, “As well as we arranged and I suppose it all turned out for the best for everyone involved and I am glad I came and got it all confirmed. But I have come for another reason. It seems our Nemesis is still afoot causing trouble and was wondering if you would consider helping again.”
“Please come in Picaroon Crookback. I have breakfast ready in abundance and I have a wonderful table of guests who have also come to discuss the ill-doings of Gafrinker Badmash.”
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