PB&G - The Mad Wizard

[joegoda]

Pewitt, leaned forward against the neck of his horse and patted the chestnut neck. "Good boy, you know where we're going, don't you?"

"It's a mare." said Weehawk.

"Oh."

Miles ago they had started at sun up, the big orb shining just over the lip of the wall. Bags pointed in a direction and told them to just keep riding south till the came to the mountains. The spot they were looking for was a big cleft in the Ridges. If they got lost, they were to ask directions, and pretty much ever one in the area should know about the Mad Wizard's mountain.

The horses would know the way to go. Or so he said.

Grizelda made sure they had plenty of dried meats and fruits to last them a few weeks. Each boy had one jar of plum preserves, which Grizelda said would help them avoid desert madness. The horses were laden with bag upon bag of supplies that she had figured they would need for the road.

"When you go into a new town, make sure you change your shirt." She warned. "They'll know you've been riding, but if your shirts are a mess, they will know you've been riding a long time. That will make them immediately suspicious. Clothes make the man, or so I've heard."

"And," injected Bags, "for goddess sake, don't mention either me or Pockets' name anywhere you stop."

"Why not?" asked Pewitt.

Bags looked over at Grizelda, a weak smile on his face. "Let's just say that there may be a few places where they still remember us in our younger, wilder days." He shrugged and continued. "We used to be ... uh... thieves, sorta."

"Thieves? You were a thief?" Weehawk perked up from his constantly glum position. "Ever make any big scores?"

Bags withered a look at Weehawk, and said "It wasn't like that. It was desperate times. We were young and broke. Pockets tended to find things and keep 'em. That's all."

Weehawk laughed the wither off and said, "Oh. Ok. Young and broke. Yeah, we see a lot of that in the outskirts." He winked at Bags. "I gotcha."

Grizelda broke the tension that was building in Bags by placing her hand on his arm. "Boys, it would just be better to keep why you're looking for the Wizards Mountain just between yourselves, all right?" She looked directly, sweetly, dearly at Weehawk and said plainly, "I really don't think you'd like BeJay to hear that you went shooting your mouth off, when you were told to keep on the QT, now would you?"

Weehawk paled a bit, not difficult considering how dark he was, and said "No ma'am. We'll keep it on the QT, just like you said." He poked Pewitt, "Right?"

"I wasn't going to say anything anyway, your Majesty." he said. "Your wish is my command."

"Suck up", Weehawk grumbled under his breath.

Now, two days and miles away from anything they knew, following the eastern edge of the desert, the Ridges were starting to show in the distance, gray and misty and just a tad foreboding.

"Do you believe all of what the King said? All that stuff about big machines and mad wizards and monsters the size of trees?" Pewitt asked.

"I believe what my eyes tell me." Weehawk grumbled. "Everything else is just what someone else says they've seen."

"Oh."

Silence passed between the two for a while, each kept in his own internal wanderings.

"Did you ever think you would find yourself on an adventure like this, Weehawk." Pewitt spread his arms wide, encompassing everything. "We're going to go find a Wizard, and not just any wizard, but the Mad Wizard! Kind of scary, if you think about it. Rather exciting, though. A scary exciting, you know what I mean?"

Weehawk looked over at his companion. "Look... Milt. I didn't exactly sign up for this. I mean, yeah, I was looking for something, and when they asked, I was glad to get picked. But I'm not gonna get all googly eyed over it. It's just a thing, okay?"

He pulled the reigns a bit to guide the horse so that he was closer to Pewitt.

"I'm gonna tell you a secret, and you have got to promise me that you won't tell anyone, okay?" Weehawk held up a hand, spit in it and held it out. "You're gonna have to shake on it."

Pewitt looked at Weehawk's hand as if it were a snake that would bite him. He paused a long time, long enough that Weehawk said "Fergit it, then." and started to pull his hand back.

Quickly, Pewitt spit in his own hand and reached out to take Weehawk's. "I agree. I won't tell a living soul."

"Took you long enough." Weehawk smiled. "Listen... this is the secret. I went to the pub to rob someone. I just got dumb lucky enough to get picked for this stupid thing."

Pewitt gasped. "You were there to ROB someone?" He looked around, as if expecting someone to be right there, listening.

Weehawk laughed, a gentle sound coming from his chest. "Yeah. It was a dare from one of the guys in the outskirts. I was supposed to come back with something of Bags'." Another chuckle. "Didn't get very far, huh?"

"I should say not!" Pewit exclaimed, shocked. "And I must say, I'm glad you didn't. I would have hated to think what Bags would have done if he had caught you."

"He wouldn't have." Weehawk said. "I'm just that good."

"Still... it wouldn't have been a very nice thing to do. Bags is our King."

"Bags is just a man, Milt. Granted, he could have put my head on the wall or he could have banished me, like he did the old Chancellor."

Pewitt thought a bit. "Maybe he did Weehawk. We may not come back from this, you know."

This brought another laugh and a wave of the hand from Weehawk. "Phooey on that. We'll probably find Pockets sitting in that pub in Newton, drunk on his butt. I don't believe half of what Bags told us, and the other half... well, we'll just see, won't we?" He reached back toward the saddle bags. "I wonder how this plum stuff tastes?"

*****

Grizelda leaned on one elbow looking at Bags. Bags lay on his back, eyes closed, trying to sleep. Grizelda lay next to him, not trying to sleep. The baby had kicked her hard enough that it woke her up, and she had decided that the two of them needed company. Bags was her target.

"Bags." she said, gently.

Snort was the reply.

"Bags..." a little less gently.

Snort, snuffle, roll to the side.

Poke. "Oh Bags..."

"Wha...?" grumpled reply from sleepy Bags.

Poke, Poke. "The baby woke me up."

"Oh." A lifeless word breathed out. "He'll go back to sleep. You should too." came a hopeful, quiet pleading.

Grizelda hmphed, lay back down, but now her mind was spinning. The boys had left almost sixteen hours ago, and her mind drifted toward them.

"I hope they'll be fine." she mused. She lay as quiet as she could. Her mind's focus changed, following the course of Pewitt and Weehawk to the Wizard's mountain, which led, naturally to Pockets. The baby kicked. She rolled on her side, which the baby liked even less. Back she rolled onto her back.

"Bags..." she said, quietly.

"Mmmmm. Sleep." gentle whisper, urgently made.

"I can't." she complained. "The baby kicks and I can't stop thinking about Pockets. I never did ask you much about what you two went through in the mountain. I know that's not the best time of your life, and I figured you'd tell me about it when you felt like it. But maybe if you tell me some of it, I'll get sleepy and drift off."

Bags, deciding he wasn't going to get any sleep until the baby did, rolled over and looked at his wife. "You want to know some of the scary crap that went on, and you think it will help you sleep?"

Grizelda let her eyes get soft and big, nodded her head in her very best five year old way, and said "Uh huh."

Sigh. "All right, honey. If you think that's what you need, then that's what we'll do. I'm just glad you didn't ask for spring pickles or something."

"Oooooh! Spring pickles!" Grizelda salivated. "That would be soooo goo..." she stopped, seeing the face on Bags. "I'm kidding. Really." He still had that look, that look of tolerant murder, of the eternally patient, just waiting his turn. She got her earnest face on and laid a hand on his arm. "No. Really. Tell me about long ago and far away. Tell me a story, Bags."

"All right." He said, lifting himself to prop against the headboard.

"Spring pickles." Grizelda whispered.

"Griz!"

"Okay, okay. I'll hush."


Bags was asleep when Pockets entered the room. He woke up to Pockets curled up on his bed, sobbing quietly. He didn't really want to get up. He had spent the last three nights in Newton, letting his wild seventeen year old hormones dictate which direction he went, what he did, and whose bed he woke up in. In short, Bags was becoming Bags.

He rolled over, squinted in the dark towards the lumpy form of Pockets. "You okay over there, Bud?" he asked.

Immediately the sobs stopped. There was a pause you could drive an ox cart through and then "Yes." A long breath shattering sigh. "I'm okay, Bags."

The darkness made the empty lie even more solid. Something in Pockets voice caused Bags get up and crossed over to Pockets bed. The turned on one of the gas lamps, and then he reached down and touched the smaller boy's shoulder.

Though Bags was only a few months older, it was enough to cause an eternal debate at how old Bags really was. It was also evident as Bags had filled up and out, gaining height and muscles. Pockets stayed the same size he was when he was eleven, only filling out, gaining muscle that made him stocky and roundish.

"You sure you're okay, Chester?" Bags asked, tenderly. He pulled gently till Pockets was laying face up. Bags gasped.

Pockets' face was puffy, and his eyes were red. That wasn't the alarming part. What was alarming was the crown of dark blue diamond shaped bruises the ringed the crown of his head. Bags reached down and touched one of the bruises. "What the hell? Where did these come from?"

"What do you care?" came the sullen reply. "I'm fine, Bags. You just go back to your wet dreams or whatever you're doing." Pockets pulled his shoulder away, and winced with the pain it appeared to cause him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Bags flipped his hands up. "I know I've been gone a lot, but I don't think I deserved that."

"I don't know what you deserve, Bags," Pockets growled. "I do know that I've been coming back to this room and you haven't been here. I needed to talk to you, and you haven't been here."

"Well, hell, Pockets. How was I supposed to know?" Bags said, defensively. "It's not like there's a load of fun for me here, you know? It's not like I plan to stay in town... it's just that I get invited to."

"Oh sure! Sure you do." Pockets shot back, nodding his head furiously. The diamond shapes seemed to glow darkly in the night. "I'm sure that the ladies out there just see you sitting, all virginal and all, not wanting anything at all, and they all come to you and ask them to just share their bed." He turned roughly away. "I'm sure that's what happens."

Bags reached down to the shoulder again, but before he could touch his friend "I said I'm all right, Bags. Go back to bed."

Bags rose, turned off the gas light again, and lay back down on his bunk. He laced his fingers behind his head and thought. It wasn't like Pockets to just snap at him like this. They had been together for... what?... over thirteen years. More, really. In that whole time, he had never heard Pockets say anything that was mean or spiteful. It was almost like jealously. Maybe that was what it was.

"You know, you could come with me some nights." Bags offered.

"I don't think so." was the muffled reply.

"Why not? You need to get out of this place, Pockets. It's making you mean."

"Oh, Bags, you don't know the half of it." Pockets rolled over to face Bags in the dark. "It's not making me mean. It's making me smarter."

"Smarter and mean." Bags countered.

"Perhaps there is some residual effects that cause some minor emotional outbursts, but they tend to be negated by the time the morning comes. Not that you would know. They are minor compared to what I am learning, Bags."

"And what are you learning, Pockets?" Bags knew that the best way to counter anything Pockets might be feeling was to draw him into conversation. And the best conversation to have with Pockets involved knowledge and, of course, Pockets himself.

"Oh God, Bags." Pockets said, hushed, excited. "It's stuff beyond anything you could even imagine. In the tower there's this chair I sit in and put on this crown. It's not like a crown you would see a King wear. This is a crown that has long cables running out of it, up and away to something called a computer. It's an old dead word that means 'thinking machine'."

"Thinking machine?" Bags asked, urging his friend to talk. "Machines can't think."

"And that is exactly what I thought, Bags." Pockets lifted himself onto his elbows. "This is not like a machine we know of. This isn't wheels and belts and gears and cogs. No, it's not."

"This is a machine that has no moving parts at all. It's nothing but little stones and wires and cables. That's all. It's nothing like what we've ever seen before." He paused. "But it does think, Bags. It's been taught to."

"Taught to think?" Bags wondered, "Taught by who?"

"Taught by whom, Bags." Pockets corrected. "Fletcher says it was so long ago, that nobody, not even Fletcher himself knows. He says it was taught by something called programs."

"Huh." was Bags noncommittal comment.

"Yeah, huh indeed!" said Pockets. "And when I wear this crown, I can talk to it, and it can talk to me."

"So it thinks and talks." commented Bags. "What does it talk about?"

"It fills my head with all sorts of stuff. It tells me about the weather, which before now seemed very complicated, but now it's so simple. It tells me about everyone on the planet. It tells me about everything that happens on the planet." Pockets pauses. "Did you know that this is a planet called Nowhere? Did you know it travels around a small sun in a thing called a glaxy, that travels around a big central hub, and that hub itself travels round and round through the universe?"

"Pockets, that's far too many words for this late at night." Bags said.

"Did you know that pub you go to is the oldest one on Nowhere? That your friends Zeb and Zack are over two thousand years old?"

"That's impossible, Pockets. Nobody is that old." Bags was yawning, almost regretting having pulled his friend out of his pain.

"That's what I thought, too. But the computer showed me pictures of their birth. Pretty gross, I can tell you. And it was over two thousand years ago."

"Did anyone else tell you this besides this computer thing?"

"It's in the birth records in the library. I can take you there and show you if you want."

"Maybe tomorrow, Pockets. In fact, I'll go to the library and you can show me all sorts of things... tomorrow, okay?" Big yawn.

"Okay! It's a deal." Pockets flopped back onto the bed, was silent briefly, then "And Bags?"

"Yes, Pockets?"

"I'm sorry I was mean to you. I'll go to the pub with you if you want."

"Okay, Pockets."

"But it'll have to wait till after tomorrow. Tomorrow something really big is going to happen."

"Oh?" Sleepy question.

"Yeah. Fletcher says it's probably the biggest, most important thing there is. It's what I've been learning all this stuff for, all these years. He said it was something that would have to wait till I was ready for it, and now I am."

Another big yawn, and "What is it that you're ready for, Pockets?"

Pockets got out of his bunk, walked over to Bags' and knelt down. He placed his mouth close to his friends nearly sleeping ear.

"Tomorrow, I go to talk with God." he whispered. Pockets crossed back to his bunk and lay down. "G'night, Bags."

Bags did not sleep that night.

Comments

[starseeking.livejournal.com]

Wow, this was amazing. Something about your writings always touches my soul.

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Kevin. 'preciate you saying that. I'd like to brag it's cuz I've got so many of you folks out there in my head and heart that the multiple personalites just jump out onto the keyboard. I say... I'd like to brag that.

[shackrlu.livejournal.com]

Thank you for my..uh..the story!! I LOVW IT. 'specially this line..
She got her earnest face on and laid a hand on his arm. "No. Really. Tell me about long ago and far away. Tell me a story, Bags."</>

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

I kinda liked the Grizelda and Bags interplay myself. Pewitt and Weehawk are starting to develop some decent characteristics. Somehow, I'm not sure they'll make it to the mountains and find Pockets. I suspect they may get lost in the Scary Wood.

[fairyoffire.livejournal.com]

Yay for a great read this early in the morning! :)

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

You are very welcome!