PB&G - The Mad Wizard

[joegoda]

Weehawk looked around in puzzlement. Behind him he expected to find sand, as they had just left the desert and were in the short stubby grasses that led to the foothills of the Ridge Mountains. To the left of him were short stubby grasses, reaching up to try to capture the sun with their razor sharp leaves. To the right of him were short stubby grasses, straining to drag all the moisture they could from earth greedy to give it up. Ahead, short stubby grasses. Behind, short stubby grasses.

"Um. Milt?" He called, as he pulled the reigns to bring his mare to a halt. "Do you have any idea where in the seven hells we are?"

Pewitt turned his mare to come back to where Weehawk waited. Once he had come abreast, he said, "Certainly, Weehawk. We are in the Steppes of the Great Ridge Mountains, which span our planet from one end to the other. My father used to talk about these places. How they were filled with magical and evil folks, waiting to snatch the soul from some unsuspecting child."

"That's not what I was talking about." Weehawk said. "I mean, weren't we just on the desert a few minutes ago? Look behind us, tell me what you see."

Pewitt turned in his saddle and looked behind. "Well," he said, "would you look at that. That's certainly something. Yes it is." He turned back in his saddle.

Weehawk just stared at Pewitt. "That's all you have to say? 'Would you look at that? That's interesting?' Milt, the desert has disappeared!"

Pewitt laughed a bit and said "Oh, I seriously doubt that, Weehawk. It's still there." He turned again to look behind. "I suspect what we are seeing is what is called a 'mirage'. It's a trick of the light to make the eyes see things that aren't really there. I assure you, the desert is still there. It's just that we've come about a half mile into the grasses and the desert is just not visible."

"Oh." Weehawk pondered this for a second. "All right. I guess I can buy that. But I still want to know where we are. Bags said to look for a cleft in the mountains. Do you see a cleft? Because I don't see a cleft, Milt. I really don't."

"Weehawk, we aren't even within distance to see anything except the barest hint of the mountains. We probably have another ten or so miles to go. Besides, his Majesty said that if we ever got lost, we should stop to ask directions. Have a little faith."

"Oh, I got a little faith, Milt. Just a little. Bags also said that the horses would know which way to go. Maybe we should ask them if they'll take us to someplace to stay the night. Ten miles is an awful long trek and I don't relish the idea of sleeping in the grasses. There are bugs in the grasses, Milt. Bugs that bite."

As if to prove a point, a large grasshopper flew out of the short grass and landed on the saddle next to Pewitt.

"Well, hello there!" Pewitt said. "Go on now, shoo!" He waved a hand at the hopper, who stubbornly sat there, looking back at him. Pewitt reached down to flick the hopper away, but the hopper just jumped onto his hand.

"Look, Weehawk! I've made a friend!" he said.

"Yeah. Lucky you. Ask him where we can spend the night."

Pewitt looked down at the large hopper, greens and brown and long jagged legs. "So, how bout it? Know of an inn nearby?" But the hopper just shook his head and spit something brown and sticky onto Pewitt's hand before flitting off.

"Well! That certainly wasn't very nice." Pewitt observed.

"Serves you right for flirting with the locals." Weehawk chided. He patted the neck of his mare and said "I think old Bags may have been a bit lost in the head. These horses are good, sure, but I doubt they have any idea where we are."

"You never know, Weehawk. Animals sometimes have senses we humans don't, or so my father says." He leaned down and said to his mare, "What say, girl? Think you can find us a place for the night?"

His mare snorted and nodded her head, and started walking. The other mare snickered and followed suit.

"What the hell?" Weehawk muttered.

"Maybe they've been very well trained." Pewitt offered.

"Milt, there ain't a person in Tears that can train an animal to understand human speech. If there was, there'd be monkey pickpockets running all over the place."

"She certainly knows what direction to go, or so it seems." Pewitt observed.

"Yeah, and at this pace it'll take like ten years to go the ten miles." Weehawk complained. "Ask her to go faster, Milt."

Pewitt leaned down, but thought better of it. "You know, it might be more fun for them if it was like a race. To see which horse could get us there the fast...." The rest of his words were lost as his mare suddenly bolted under him and started at full gallop across the steppe. Weehawk's followed suit and the race was on!

Pewitt's mare, having had a head start, snickered as the other ran to keep up. Weehawk's put on a blinding burst of speed and soon caught up. The ground under foot flashed past, and the distance seemed to dissappear under their thunderous hooves.

"I." "Think." "I." "Lost." "My." "Ass." "Back." "There." Weehawk stammered out.

"Just." "Hang." "On." Pewitt stammered back.

Short blond grass, sharp of point and hard to look at gave way to taller, friendlier grasses, wheatishly blowing and parting before the racing horses as if it was a golden ocean parting before an ocean going sailing ship. Golds and browns and greens flowed and flashed all around, as the steppes gave way to the grasses of the plain before the forest.

The two boys started to find their rhythm, which certainly made communication easier. "I have a feeling my spine is going to fly out my rear end!" Weehawk observed.

"Wait till we stop." Pewitt said. "This is easier, believe me!"

"Where did you learn about horses?" Weehawk yelled.

"Dad was a blacksmith, remember?" Pewitt yelled back.

"And you didn't know your horse was a mare?" Weehawk yelled, amazed.

"I know a little bit about horses, I just don't know anything about husbandry." was the answering yell.

Fast, fast, fast, the mares raced, neck and neck, then nose to nose, then eye to eye. Snickers and whinnies found their way back to the boys' ears. Faster and faster the race went, until the tall grasses gave way to soft gentle grasses as the foothills of the mountains started to grow in front of them. They only stopped when they came to a small stream. The horses slowed, and stopped to drink, and the boys slowly and cautiously and carefully stepped down from their saddles, each having pains in places they had never had before.

"That was incredible! That was amazing!" Weehawk danced a painful joy. "Gods and Goddesses, my butt hurts!"

"It certainly was something. Yes it was." said Pewitt, who went slowly to the stream to refill their canteens.

Weehawk went to join him and sat down in the stream to cool his aching backside. "Gods this is cold. Feels good though." He looked at Pewitt and said "Milt, you don't get excited by much, do you?"

Pewitt blinked a couple of times, thought about it and said. "No, I guess I don't. I guess I don't find a lot to get excited about, Weehawk. Life is pretty much going to go the way it's going to go, or at least that's what my dad always said."

"But what about the twists it throws you? I mean, come on, you weren't excited by that race we were just in. My mare won, by the way."

Pewitt stood and did some stretching exercises, to limber up his aching thighs. "It was certainly exhilarating, yes. That it was. But excited? No, I really don't find anything there to get excited about. I found it... disturbing, actually."

"Disturbing?" Weehawk prodded. "How was it disturbing?"

"Well, for one thing, the horses seemed to understand what we were saying. That's not something I'm comfortable with, Weehawk. Animals aren't supposed to be able to understand humans."

"Maybe they've just been trained good, like you said." Weehawk offered.

"Maybe. That would explain part of it, true." Pewitt admitted. "But this well trained? I don't know. That's only half of it, Weehawk." He hesitated.

"Oh?" Weehawk said. "What's the other half?"

"It seemed, and it might have just been my imagination, that while we rode my horse was talking to me. In here." Pewitt tapped his temple. "I could swear I heard a voice in there, talking to me. And that's just not right, Weehawk."

"Speed sickness?" Weehawk suggested.

"No such a thing." Pewitt rejected. "No, I truly believe she was talking to me. She told me her name was Bel, and that she used to be the horse that Pockets rode. She and Pockets were riders, she said." He sighed. "I don't think that is something my imagination could make up."

"Well, what of it?" Weehawk threw out. "There's a guy back in the outskirts that swears he hears the voice of Journiey, one of our old Woods Goddesses. He swears he's seen her, teaching in that new library in Tears. Now, that's lots more nuts than what you're telling me."

"That's not the point, Weehawk. Not the point at all." Pewitt sat on the bank, dangling his bare feet into the stream. "You see, I can accept that the animals understand us. They may have just been well trained, or they could just be extraordinarily bright animals. But they are still animals. For me to be able to hear one of them speaking to me, or more exactly, thinking at me, is very disturbing. Where I'm from, a person that hears animals talk is considered not just crazy, but a witch."

"So? I still don't see the big deal, Milt." Weehawk floated on his back, letting the stream pull and tug at him. "There're lots of witches back in Tears. Some do some pretty good tricks, and I gotta tell you, if you ever need a healer, a witch is the best person to go to. Forget those leechers. They'd likely kill as cure."

Pewitt's expression clouded. "I don't think we're talking about the same sort of thing here. We have what you call witches where I'm from, but we call them midwives. They're good, decent folk that help with the birthing of babies and work healings and such." He looked at Weehawk to see if he was understood. Weehawk nodded, so Pewitt continued. "Then we have witches. These are folks that cast evil, ruin crops, cause death. Horrible people."

"Oh!" Weehawk said. "We have those too, and we call them witches but the spelling is different."

"Different?" Pewitt was confused.

"Begins with a bee, not a double-ewe."

Comprehension dawned, and Pewitt laughed. "That was a good one, Weehawk. I didn't see it coming."

Weehawk pulled himself, dripping out of the stream, and raised a hand for help getting onto the bank. "Glad I got you to laugh. You were getting way to serious, Milt." Pewitt lent a hand and pulled Weehawk out of the stream.

He shook like a dog and water flew all over. Pewitt raised his hands to shield his face, and Weehawk said, "You really should take a dip. Best thing for achy bones."

Pewitt looked to the sun, which was starting to set. "We have a choice. We can either camp here for the night and find someone to ask directions tomorrow, or we can take our chances with riding in the dark."

"I say we camp here." Weehawk voted.

"Agreed." Pewitt said. "See, Weehawk, this is a serious thing to me. If I was back at home, and told anyone, and I mean anyone, that I could hear even the smallest peep from any animal, I'd most likely be put to death."

Weehawk looked hard at Pewitt. "Just like that?"

Pewitt nodded, "Just like that."

"No trial?"

"A trial would just muddy up the facts."

Weehawk's face clouded with anger. "Why that's just about the stupidest thing I ever heard! Milt, you a good and decent person. A better person than I am, I think."

"Oh, I don't know about all that..." Pewitt interrupted.

"I'm not done." Weehawk continued. "You're a good and decent person. Think about this. What if there was a horse, much like Bel here, that was a good horse, a loyal horse, a horse that did her best, day after day. Then, for no reason, she got sick or something. Wouldn't you like for her to be able to tell you what was going on with her? Where it hurt and such?"

"Well, certainly." Pewitt admitted. "It would make the diagnosis so much easier. But..."

"Taint no buts about it, friend. I think being able to talk to animals is a good thing. I think your folks need to re-think this whole witches concept. Bring 'em to Tears, we'll show them the true spelling of witches."

"But.... Hmmm." Pewitt pondered. "I can see you point, but it still makes me feel uncomfortable." He looked at the darkening sky. "I can see this will indeed bear some thinking on, while we make camp." He stuck out a hand to Weehawk. "Thanks."

"What's that for?" Weehawk asked. "I didn't do anything."

"Weehawk, you may not be aware of it, but I suspect the Gods and Goddesses have put us together for a reason. I wanted to thank you for calling me friend."

"Well, hell. Don't make a big thing of it, Milt." Weehawk reached out his hand and the two boys clasped arms. "You're welcome for whatever."

"It is a big deal, Weehawk. I don't have many friends." Pewitt admitted.

"It's cuz you're too stiff. You put people off with all your smart talk. You're a smart guy, and that scares some folks." Weehawk grinned. "But don't worry, chum. I bet by the end of this adventure, you'll find yourself a lot loosened up."

The two set about making camp. Dried meat and some of Grizelda's plum preserves on bread was the fair. They turned in on their blankets and watched the stars over head, spin, spin on their way from hither to yon.

"Milt?"

"Yes, Weehawk?"

"I think you're an okay sorta guy."

"Why thank you, Weehawk."

"Just thought you should know that."

"I... thanks."

A little more spinning and the soft blues of the twilight turned to velvet black.

"Milt?"

"Yes, Weehawk?"

"What's the name of my horse?"

"I don't know. Let me ask." A bit of silence went by. "It's not so bad, you know, being able to hear animals. They really are extremely polite."

"Okay, okay. Glad you're comming to terms with it. But what's her name?"

"She says she doesn't have one. Horses don't have names they give themselves. They recognize each other for what they are. She also said she'd like it if you gave her one, though. She said she likes you, even if you're a bit of a smartass."

Weehawk laughed. "Well, I suppose I'll have to admit to that at times." Crickets singing crept through the night. "I think I have her name." He sat up. "Hey you! The horse I rode!"

Weehawk's mare raised her head and looked at him. "Well.. what do you know? They do understand." he muttered. "I got your name."

"I'll call you Racer. How's that sit with you?"

A whiney and a snicker was his reply.

"Good. That's a good name." Pewitt said.

"Thanks, Milt. I thought so, too."

"No, Weehawk. That's what SHE said."

"OH!" He looked over to where Racer stood, looking back at him. "You're welcome!"

"No need to shout, Weehawk. They have extreamly good ears." Pewitt said.

"Oh." Weehawk lay back down, smiling. "Thanks Milt. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Weehawk."

Comments

[hdsqrl.livejournal.com]

Awww!!! *croons*
I loved this! :D

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Megan. I like to think I write like old time serials in TV. Each episode has to be complete, from beginning to end, with just enough interest in the other stuff to keep the reader coming back. Glad you're enjoying it!

[hdsqrl.livejournal.com]

Oh, absolutely. Each day I obsessively check LJ to see if there are any new developments in the search for Pockets, or to learn more about the characters' backgrounds, etc.

-tsk, tsk.-

It's an addiction, I'm afraid. :o

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

That'll be 4.95. Please pay at the checkout stand.

[shackrlu.livejournal.com]

Awww.. That's another fine piece of storytelling you've given us!! This just keeps getting finer and finer. You are definitely on a roll me dearie!

Maybe we can do a beer Tomorrow night or Saturday night after I get out of the playhouse??? I think I"m gonna need a drink REAL soon!

I have to get up with the chickens in the morning so I'm off to bed. Thank you for a wonderful bedtime story.

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

I don't know about tonight. Saturday is painday because I get up 2 hours earlier than normal. I've been going to bed 2 hours earlier than normal too. Saturday might be the better day, cuz I get off at 6. Course it's the day when everyone else will be out and about, but we could maybe do an early night of it, maybe grab a bite. And I still got movies to watch!