Hero's Manual: Chapter 18
Sep. 16th, 2006 04:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sickle_storiesA/N: Both the "camel hump" reference and the phrase about the Black King stem from NGaiman's Shoggoth's Old Peculair and the title he gives for HPLovecraft's Nyarlathotep. The "Lord of the Woods" also comes from Lovecraft: Whisperer in the darkness (1931), but the "Darth" bit is just Sithly. Quasi's fear came out more serious than I'd first intended.
Chapter 18: Four-Legged Brethren
“I don’t see why you couldn’t have packed the mattress, Quasi,” muttered Vicky.
Quasi nudged Clyde again, just to see if their speed changed, and winced at Vicky’s tight grip on his middle. “There was no room, master, and certainly no time,” he said, “to bring a mattress, pillow, chair or any other luxury item.”
“But you managed to find room for your candlestick, did you?” Feeling Quasi’s back stiffen, Vicky burrowed his head in his shoulders.
“It is not,” managed Quasi, after a moment, “a luxury item.” He gave Clyde another hard prod with the grape-motif candlestick. He didn’t mention the can of polish in his front pocket. Besides, it too was necessary.
Quasi glanced at his pocket watch, straining to focus on it whilst swaying on the camel’s back, wishing they’d bought a dromedary instead. “We’ll lose the slime trail at this rate,” he said. “It decomposes under bright light, you see.”
“Less glow?”
“More stink.”
“Ah,” said Vicky. “Maybe a slight pick up on our speed then?”
Quasi grinned. Vicky knew that grin, knew what it meant and when to expect it. He was glad he couldn’t see it well from his vantage point behind Quasi, but shut his eyes anyway.
Quasi leaned forward, resting his left hand on Clyde’s neck. “Camel,” he whispered, and Clyde’s ears swiveled back. “Camel, you might want to kick up your heels.”
Clyde snorted and turned his head to face his driver, lips pursed to deliver a spit ball. He felt Quasi’s grip tighten on his neck and saw his right hand rise bearing the Staff-For-Light and swallowed hard.
Vicky was thrown back as Clyde broke into a gallop, the camel’s eyes tightly closed.
A few minutes later, Quasi saw a sign advertising the town of Astrophel flash past. Shortly after that, he saw the ground flash forward as Clyde swerved around something on the road.
The something bleeted.
Quasi groaned and stumbled to his feet, glancing around for Vicky and Clyde. Vicky, it turned out, had been thrown a bit farther than Quasi and was struggling out of a bush by the side of the road. It was with secret pleasure that Quasi refrained from mentioning the smudge of dirt on his face.
Clyde was somewhat easier to find, being as he was a large quadruped. He was standing right at the stop where he swerved, beside the obstacle he’d narrowly missed.
The two were getting on quite well.
Frank (Goat of Doom) didn’t seem intimidated by the camel’s larger bulk and Clyde was blissfully ignorant of the former’s reputation.
“Hey, ship-wreck,” said Quasi as he prodded Clyde with the candlestick, “leave that thing alone.” Clyde turned to the butler, lips pursed over yellowing teeth, and shook his head vigorously.
“Yaaargh! Oh, blasted flames of infinite depths! Ugh!” squealed Quasi as he was showered in camel spit. He wiped at his face vigorously with his sleeves, swiveling from one shoulder to the other. “You bloody stinker!” he hissed, waving his candlestick in Clyde’s face. “Just see if you dare do that again, you misbegotten llama.” Clyde flattened his ears at the sight of the Staff-for-Light but pursed his lips rebelliously.
A second later Clyde was balancing perilously on four very wobbly legs trying to make the world stop shaking. Quasi stuck his face against the camel’s suddenly tender muzzle.
“I’ll have you know,” whispered the butler, “I’ve never eaten a camel hump. I hear they’re just the thing for travelers.” With that Quasi turned, twirling the candlestick idly with one hand, and almost ran into the goat. He cursed.
The goat looked up at him, working its cud with all the relish of a chewing-tobacco addict.
A second, more creative, curse died on Quasi’s lips. He tightened his grip on the candle stick as he watched the industrious chewing of The Black King of the Ancients Who Dwells in the Forest and You Shall Not Know Him. Something deep down inside Quasi, the part that yearned for that full-year membership to The Dark Closet, Knew. It didn’t know exactly what it Knew, but it knew enough to make the body it was in back away slowly from the quadruped. It knew enough, even, to make the body’s hand search for sugar cubes in various pockets. The hand didn’t find any, but what the Something Knew made it look hard.
“Why’re you staring at the goat like it ate your kitten?”
“Geoffrey ate my kitten when I was six,” answered Quasi. “Werewolf.” He kept his eyes firmly on the Dark Lord of the Woods as he edged closer to Vicky.
“Splendid,” said Vicky, tetchy after extricating himself from the bush without assistance. “I’m sure it was memorable. Now give me a push.”
Quasi felt blindly behind him until he found Vicky’s backside, then heaved. Vicky’s curses were muffled by a mouthful of camel hair.
The goat continued to chew.
“Get on, you nitwit.”
Left, right, around. Left, right, around. Quasi had the feeling the goat could chew until the end of the world. Then the combined thought of the goat and the end of the world made the butler close his eyes tightly, swallow thickly and grope for Clyde’s shoulder. He heaved himself onto Clyde and prodded him forward in one movement.
Over Clyde’s steady plodding, Vicky’s mutterings about muddied vests and the grinding of his teeth, Quasi was sure he heard the sound four hooves walking slowly behind them. He tightened his grip on his candlestick.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t have packed the mattress, Quasi,” muttered Vicky.
Quasi nudged Clyde again, just to see if their speed changed, and winced at Vicky’s tight grip on his middle. “There was no room, master, and certainly no time,” he said, “to bring a mattress, pillow, chair or any other luxury item.”
“But you managed to find room for your candlestick, did you?” Feeling Quasi’s back stiffen, Vicky burrowed his head in his shoulders.
“It is not,” managed Quasi, after a moment, “a luxury item.” He gave Clyde another hard prod with the grape-motif candlestick. He didn’t mention the can of polish in his front pocket. Besides, it too was necessary.
Quasi glanced at his pocket watch, straining to focus on it whilst swaying on the camel’s back, wishing they’d bought a dromedary instead. “We’ll lose the slime trail at this rate,” he said. “It decomposes under bright light, you see.”
“Less glow?”
“More stink.”
“Ah,” said Vicky. “Maybe a slight pick up on our speed then?”
Quasi grinned. Vicky knew that grin, knew what it meant and when to expect it. He was glad he couldn’t see it well from his vantage point behind Quasi, but shut his eyes anyway.
Quasi leaned forward, resting his left hand on Clyde’s neck. “Camel,” he whispered, and Clyde’s ears swiveled back. “Camel, you might want to kick up your heels.”
Clyde snorted and turned his head to face his driver, lips pursed to deliver a spit ball. He felt Quasi’s grip tighten on his neck and saw his right hand rise bearing the Staff-For-Light and swallowed hard.
Vicky was thrown back as Clyde broke into a gallop, the camel’s eyes tightly closed.
A few minutes later, Quasi saw a sign advertising the town of Astrophel flash past. Shortly after that, he saw the ground flash forward as Clyde swerved around something on the road.
The something bleeted.
Quasi groaned and stumbled to his feet, glancing around for Vicky and Clyde. Vicky, it turned out, had been thrown a bit farther than Quasi and was struggling out of a bush by the side of the road. It was with secret pleasure that Quasi refrained from mentioning the smudge of dirt on his face.
Clyde was somewhat easier to find, being as he was a large quadruped. He was standing right at the stop where he swerved, beside the obstacle he’d narrowly missed.
The two were getting on quite well.
Frank (Goat of Doom) didn’t seem intimidated by the camel’s larger bulk and Clyde was blissfully ignorant of the former’s reputation.
“Hey, ship-wreck,” said Quasi as he prodded Clyde with the candlestick, “leave that thing alone.” Clyde turned to the butler, lips pursed over yellowing teeth, and shook his head vigorously.
“Yaaargh! Oh, blasted flames of infinite depths! Ugh!” squealed Quasi as he was showered in camel spit. He wiped at his face vigorously with his sleeves, swiveling from one shoulder to the other. “You bloody stinker!” he hissed, waving his candlestick in Clyde’s face. “Just see if you dare do that again, you misbegotten llama.” Clyde flattened his ears at the sight of the Staff-for-Light but pursed his lips rebelliously.
A second later Clyde was balancing perilously on four very wobbly legs trying to make the world stop shaking. Quasi stuck his face against the camel’s suddenly tender muzzle.
“I’ll have you know,” whispered the butler, “I’ve never eaten a camel hump. I hear they’re just the thing for travelers.” With that Quasi turned, twirling the candlestick idly with one hand, and almost ran into the goat. He cursed.
The goat looked up at him, working its cud with all the relish of a chewing-tobacco addict.
A second, more creative, curse died on Quasi’s lips. He tightened his grip on the candle stick as he watched the industrious chewing of The Black King of the Ancients Who Dwells in the Forest and You Shall Not Know Him. Something deep down inside Quasi, the part that yearned for that full-year membership to The Dark Closet, Knew. It didn’t know exactly what it Knew, but it knew enough to make the body it was in back away slowly from the quadruped. It knew enough, even, to make the body’s hand search for sugar cubes in various pockets. The hand didn’t find any, but what the Something Knew made it look hard.
“Why’re you staring at the goat like it ate your kitten?”
“Geoffrey ate my kitten when I was six,” answered Quasi. “Werewolf.” He kept his eyes firmly on the Dark Lord of the Woods as he edged closer to Vicky.
“Splendid,” said Vicky, tetchy after extricating himself from the bush without assistance. “I’m sure it was memorable. Now give me a push.”
Quasi felt blindly behind him until he found Vicky’s backside, then heaved. Vicky’s curses were muffled by a mouthful of camel hair.
The goat continued to chew.
“Get on, you nitwit.”
Left, right, around. Left, right, around. Quasi had the feeling the goat could chew until the end of the world. Then the combined thought of the goat and the end of the world made the butler close his eyes tightly, swallow thickly and grope for Clyde’s shoulder. He heaved himself onto Clyde and prodded him forward in one movement.
Over Clyde’s steady plodding, Vicky’s mutterings about muddied vests and the grinding of his teeth, Quasi was sure he heard the sound four hooves walking slowly behind them. He tightened his grip on his candlestick.
