1
HEROES
It was another picture-perfect day in the DappleWood. The sun smiled, the grasses hushed, and Arthur Benton entertained an audience of chickens, ducks, squirrels, rabbits, reptiles, toads, and (he tried not to meet their beady little eyes) mice.
“Yesterday,” Arthur called from the stage of the DappleWood amphitheater, “I concluded the tale of my meteoric rise from humble street thief to unpaid consultant of the Wardens of Weirdwood, defenders of humans and Fae-born alike!”
The air shook with stomping paws and clapping wings as a barnyard excitement spread through the audience. Arthur’s crowds had grown so large that Pyra had brewed him a special potion that made his voice carry to the critters all the way in the back.
“Having rid Kingsport of unspeakable horrors,” Arthur continued, “brought a monster hospital screeching out of the sky, and gracefully retired the Gentleman Thief Garnett Lacroix, I was ready for the next step in my magical education.” Arthur arched an eyebrow. “But fate had other plans.”
The crowd grew rapt and silent.
“As you’ll remember,” Arthur said, voice low and urgent, “Weirdwood Manor was on the fritz, leaping wildly from pocket-world to pocket-world, like an untethered balloon on too much caffeine.”
In the front row, a squirrel scout raised her paw. “What’s caffeine?”
“Please hold your questions till the end,” Arthur said.
He proceeded to tell his captive critter audience about his descent into the Manor’s Abyssment to try and stop the root-chewing Scarabs.
“Breeth, who was still a ghost at the time, bested those Scarabs by possessing Ludwig, the giant plant carpenter. You’ve probably seen them around town. It’s good to keep friends nearby. They can get you out of any pickle.”
The squirrel scout’s paw shot into the air, then was quickly lowered again.
Arthur neglected to mention that the Scarabs had been his fault … or that he was mind-controlled after inhaling the spores of a psychotic mushroom … or that Lady Weirdwood ejected him from the Manor for abusing magic with a dragon-bone Quill. But it was difficult to weave an inspiring tale around those less-than-flattering moments. And after the trauma of seeing their town erased, the DappleWood citizens could use some inspiration.
“I decided to return to Kingsport to focus on more charitable efforts.” He paced the stage, telling the DappleWood citizens how he had written obituaries to console Kingsport’s grieving citizens. He expounded, breathlessly, on being chased by the Order of Eldar—“one with teeth of rust, one with a tongue of silver, and one with skin of stone”—through multiple pocket-worlds to the Whirling City, where the dragons dwell, and finally back to the Manor where Lady Weirdwood dueled the dragon duchess by magically spending her years and wisdom.
He didn’t mention the horrible death of Huamei the dragon boy. There were bunnies in the audience, after all.
As the sun dipped into purple twilight, Arthur finished his tale with the Battle of the Great Elsewhere. “At the climax of the fight, I discovered that I had created the storm cloud city with the very obituaries I had written!” He brought his voice to a stage whisper, waggling his fingers as if each was a wand of indescribable power. “Little did I know I could spin a story so convincing that it magically appeared as an entire pocket-world unto itself—ghosts included.”
The audience gasped.
“Whooooaaaaaaa,” a lone hedgehog said.
Arthur didn’t think his audience needed to know that these ghosts were not the beloved souls of the dearly departed. They were copies. Mirages. Magical creations. It turned out there was only one way to reach the afterlife. And it wasn’t pleasant.
“And so,” Arthur said, voice rising in triumph, “I convinced my newfound ghost army to knock that evil Order through the clouds, where they could rust, command, and smash no more!”
The audience burst into applause, feathers and dander wafting throughout the theater.
“Some might use the power to create pocket-worlds to give themselves untold riches,” Arthur shouted over the cheers, “but I wanted to help those who had lost their homes.” He spread his hands toward the sky. “So, I created the DappleWood!” He cleared his throat and mumbled, “With the citizens’ input, of course.”
The crowd didn’t hear him. The birds chirped and squawked, the reptiles chomped their teeth and whirled their tails, and the rodents squeaked and shivered with excitement.
Arthur bowed deep. “And that, my dear chickens, lizards, and m-m-mice is how I became a Novitiate with the world-skipping, Rift-fixing, lifesaving Wardens of Weirdwood! Any questions?”
A portly frog raised his slimy hand. “What—brr-brrt—happened next?”
Arthur shook his finger at the frog with a grin. “You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow’s performance! Any other questions?”
A fox kit raised a trembling paw and spoke with a lisp. “Ith the Nothing Man gonna come back and erathe uth?”
There was a murmur among the audience.
The hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck prickled. Of all the parts he’d left out of his story, the Eraser was the scariest. He didn’t want these innocent critters to worry that the entity that had erased their town was still on the loose, spreading through the pocket-worlds and leaving massive Voids in its wake. That it could show up at any moment and erase the DappleWood and all its citizens forever. That their storybook lives were as fragile as a page.
Arthur looked out across the fuzzy, feathered, and scaled faces of his audience. He didn’t have the stomach to reveal that the Eraser was actually Garnett Lacroix. That Arthur had created this terrifying Void when he retired the Gentleman Thief from existence. How could the DappleWood citizens believe they were safe if they knew that one of the people who was meant to protect them had caused all their problems in the first place?
“If the Eraser so much as glances at the DappleWood,” Arthur said, “the Wardens and I will splash it with so much ink, they’ll start calling it the Pen.”
It wasn’t Arthur’s best joke, but the crowd still chuckled with relief. The truth was he had no idea how to defeat the Eraser. No one did. Still, he winked at the fox kit and watched the fear melt from her whiskers.
“Any more questions?” Arthur said. “Happier ones?”
A mouse maiden shyly raised her paw and squeaked, “D-do you have a girlfriend?”
Arthur couldn’t keep his skin from crawling. The only rodentish creature he could stand to be around was Audrey. But the ferret seamstress was still missing.
“I did have a girlfriend once,” he said whimsically, staring toward the darkening clouds. “But she’s a rook now.”
One of the spring chickens whispered to another, “Told ya he was into birds.”
Arthur clapped his hands. “This concludes today’s performance! I’ll see you all back here tomorrow!”
As the DappleWood citizens waddled, skittered, and slithered toward the exits, Arthur left through the backstage, stepping into a lonely twist of alley. It was here, away from his adoring fans, that he finally let his shoulders sag and his smile fade. He tucked his hands in his pockets and headed toward Audrey’s house.
The sky was a masterpiece that night. A swirl of purples with faint threads of gold, as if painted to suit Arthur’s mood. He didn’t like to lie. Not anymore. But every time he stepped onto that stage it reignited his confidence. It reminded him that it was important to tell stories. It was important to have heroes that inspired you to continue when everything seemed hopeless. Arthur had had Garnett Lacroix to guide him. And the DappleWood citizens had the Wardens of Weirdwood. And they had Arthur.
He stepped out of the alley into the open street, which wound through the charming little cottages in one direction and stretched in the other direction through golden fields to a happy little wood on the town’s horizon.
“It’s him!”
“Hee hee hee!”
“Shh-hh-hh! Stop laughing!”
A troop of squirrel scouts had spotted Arthur and was hopping up and down, chittering and waving their paws. Arthur quickly put on a smile and waved back.
“Can’t wait for the next part of the story!” one of the scouts cried.
“It’s gonna be a doozy!” Arthur called back.
“Oh my gosh, he answered!”
“I am freaking out!”
“Quiet! He’s still looking at us!”
Arthur turned his back, and his smile vanished. What would he tell his audience the next day? After the Wardens lost the Manor, the stories had come to a screeching halt. Maybe he could feign sickness. Or hide for a few days and have Sekhmet tell his eager audience that he was on a secret mission to recover Wally.
Arthur sighed. He still couldn’t get his head around it. How could his best friend betray the Wardens of Weirdwood by stealing their Manor? The Wardens saved people’s lives from dangerous Fae-born. They were heroes. Had Graham brainwashed Wally? Was Arthur’s best friend a bad guy now?
“Yoo-hoo!” a voice bellowed from above. “Arsur!”
Arthur looked up and found Ludwig hailing him from the thatched roof of the claw salon. The giant descended the rungs of a ladder. In a sling on his back was Baby Weirdwood—BW for short—red-faced and blinking in the fading sunlight.
“Hey, Ludwig,” Arthur said. “What are you working on up there?”
“Oh, I am just fixing ze structures of your imaginings,” Ludwig said, wiping some sugary sweat from his forehead. He chuckled. “You may know vhat a building looks like, but zat does not mean you know how to make zem to stand!”
Arthur swallowed some embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”
“Do not be sorry!” the giant said. “Zis is vhat I am for!” He removed the sling from his back. “Here,” he said, thrusting BW toward Arthur. “Zis little vun has had enough sawdust for vun day. And she is not paid in ze sunlight like I am!”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Arthur quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I can’t babysit. I, uh, have to do my Novitiate work. Amelia told me to practice my spells.”
While Lady Weirdwood was indisposed in infant form, the staff’s captain had tasked him with simple writing assignments—creating new items in the DappleWood that were preferably helpful and definitely harmless. A wheel maybe. Or a butter churn.
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