The Republic of Selegania Boxed Set: Volumes One through Four Page 7

  Wanting to make sure the cat was still there he raised himself up several feet and peered with his eyes and flicked his tongue in and out of his mouth hungrily.

  Chip knew this was the moment of truth. The first chance for application of his maneuver, which he now referred to as Cyclone, feeling a fondness for it as though it were his child. Having flown high into the sky and with the sun at his back, he was propelling himself down faster and faster and had the serpent in his sights. Seeing the serpent had raised its head up, he knew it was now or never.

  He began spinning, wings tucked to his chest, eyes fastened firmly onto their target, beak stuck out like the tip of a spear.

  WHACK!!

  He crashed into the back of the serpent’s head, tearing off a huge chunk of flesh and sending it into convulsions. Chip was flung onto the ground but felt himself no worse for wear, and he quickly ascended into the sky yelling, “RUN! RUN! RUNNNNNN!!!”

  Koksun didn’t have to be told twice. He climbed down the tree with the ease of a child running down the stairs, hit the ground sprinting like a cheetah, and only had a half second to notice that the serpent appeared mortally wounded and was thrashing about violently, blood spewing from its head.

  As he propelled his body into high gear, he did find himself thinking that perhaps he had underestimated the tenacity of Chip to accomplish what he had set out to do. He had little time for philosophical reflections, however, as he realized there could be more snakes or other deadly animals lurking about anywhere.

  As if Chip had sensed Koksun’s question, he cried out, “Up here!” and Koksun turned and saw Chip flying twenty feet up in the air going in a different direction. Letting out a short, loud “Meow!” Koksun turned course, aligned himself to the direction of Chip, and began to sprint so quickly that it was almost Chip who struggled to keep up.

  Chapter 14

  Onward the two merry travelers ventured. More than once Chip had to divert Blackie to a tree for safety, as some formidable creature or creatures lay inconveniently along their pathway. On occasion, they extricated themselves from the dilemma—or, to speak more precisely, Chip extricated Blackie from the dilemma—by seeking the shelter of some nearby tree and waiting for the viper, bear, wolves, or other ferocious animal to pursue some other hapless prey.

  But on more than one of these ventures, Chip was called upon yet again to dive from the sky like the lightning bolt of some invisible god, a maneuver at which he was becoming increasingly adept and confident. His valor was called to its severest test yet when a small pack of wolves surrounded Blackie.

  Chip had already begun to form the habit of sharpening his beak against rocks while Blackie took his daily catnap. It now came to a rather vicious point, and Chip hoped to continue improving upon the project whenever time allowed.

  From high above, he spotted the leader of the pack, came swooping down from above, and gouged the poor fellow’s eye clean out of its socket. For the briefest of moments, he would have been vulnerable to a fateful swipe with a paw, but all the wolf’s comrades were too shocked upon seeing a bird stuck beak first into the eye of their venerable leader to think about attacking the strange aggressor. A full second at most was all it took Chip to free himself and fly high to safety. The alpha wolf went running for shelter, lest another unexpected attack relieve him of the burden of his other eye, a mournful howl issuing from his soul like a tragic song escaping from a deep cavern. The other wolves followed closely behind.

  As Chip and Blackie drew nearer and nearer their destination, Chip called a council.

  “We’re in fact much more than halfway there,” said Chip calmly. “In fact, with good speed, I think we will reach our destination tomorrow. However, you will make that journey without your compass if you do not tell me where Master has headed.” Chip felt a bit reluctant speaking so assertively with Blackie, but he knew it was now or never. If he delivered this ornery cat to a home full of milk and naps, he would have as much chance finding Master as he would an acorn dropped into the middle of the ocean.

  Koksun looked at Chip slyly, but he knew that he had no choice but to relent. The bird had proven himself a noble protector, a role he could have as much expected as the moon and the stars dancing together and holding hands in perfect harmony. But he feared abandonment in the merciless wilds of this brutal land if he divulged the requested information.

  “What do you want Master for?” asked Blackie, thinking it perhaps not wise to rid himself of the use of that term when speaking to Chip, who he could tell had a godlike reverence for Tristan. “Didn’t he send you and all the konulans on a much-deserved vacation, in reward for all your hard work? Don’t you think it would be unwise to approach him unsolicited? He might not welcome your arrival.”

  Chip shuddered. He did indeed worry about the ramifications, and his heart began to beat wildly in his chest, but he had made a resolution and was not to deviate from it. If he had second thoughts later, so be it. But he would mull those second thoughts over once he had the diamond of information he was searching, not while dickering with some rascally cat who seemed to be seeking to double-cross him.

  “That’s my business!” shouted Chip in a theretofore unknown tone of assertion, and he noticed Blackie recoil a bit at the blow.

  “You’ll tell me now,” continued Chip, not feeling the slightest remorse at the effect his stern tone was having, “or you’ll face the next viper, bear, or pack of wolves on your own!”

  Metinvurs were noted for their ability at shrewd bargaining, but they also knew when not to overplay one’s hand.

  “Master had a tunnel going from his cave past the easternmost edge of Dachwald. It deposits somewhere deep in the forest near a border town in southern Selegania. I believe the name is Ringsetter.”

  “So you think he made it?” Chip asked, not hiding at all the cracking of his voice or the tear in his eye. Metinvurs were curious enough, but the double curiosity of a Metinvur and feline now tortured his soul in a way he had never thought possible. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what this fool-headed bird was so dead set on seeing Tristan for. He’d probably be rewarded for his troubles by being singed on the spot. For a moment, he thought about telling Chip that it was he who had dissuaded Tristan from killing all the konulans . . . and with no small effort, but he was a practical cat, and he realized that one more apparent diversion on his part would quite possibly be rewarded by the loss of his aerial guide.

  Koksun gathered his strength, focused on naps and milk, and smothered his curiosity. “Oh, I’m quite sure of it. We both know Master’s capabilities, don’t we?” he said with a reassuring tone.

  At this, Chip seemed to have had all his sorrows assuaged. Of course, he knew Master’s capabilities! A feathery wing dried his eye, courage returned to his voice, and he said, “Off we go. Your new home awaits you!”

  Chapter 15

  Donive looked forlorn. Her comely brow was marred by the tinge of worry. She and Pitkins had had Their First. Not their first child . . . but it was precisely that issue at the source of Their First, that is to say, their first fight. No blows were exchanged. No furniture broken. Not even name-calling had poked its ugly head into their inviolate marriage yet.

  But they had raised their voices—well, to be more precise, she had raised her voice, or to use perhaps greater exactitude she had roared like a lioness, but she was cutting these nasty details from her memory of events as quickly and efficiently as she was pruning impurities off the roses within her beautiful garden. Her Great Dane, Mervin, stood watch over his queen, gazing approvingly as she performed her delicate tasks with those instruments his large paws could have never handled, panting lazily in the cool afternoon air.

  Donive was reconstructing the events in her mind until she would appear as beautiful, innocent, and defenseless as the rose currently the object of her attentions. Had she pursued the analogy further and noticed the subtle, yet quite capable, thorns of the beautiful plant, she would have realized that, a
lthough she bore much in common with it, this hurt rather than helped her case for defenselessness.

  It had all started yesterday after what she thought was an otherwordly lovemaking session, at the conclusion of which she had said, “Pitkins, my dearest love, when will we have children?” The reader will take note that since time immemorial man has found the means to achieve the bliss of love without the agony of children.

  Instead of telling her When you so desire, my love or When you say the word, my queen, as she had expected he would do, he had grown sullen. After a moment or two of silence he had told her, “Donive, I need a little more time. As you know, I lost my—.”

  “YOU STILL LOVE HER!!” she had screamed like a lioness, finishing his thought in paraphrased form. While Pitkins had naïvely thought that he was a seasoned man knowledgeable enough of the wiles of woman to carefully sidestep them in a caring, loving way and reconcile small misunderstandings before they became mountains, it was not until this moment that he learned that not even death could remove the specter of jealousy.

  To him, it seemed as if his innocent invocation of the loss of his wife would have pacified Donive’s increasingly fervent desire to have children, something that he too wanted, but not immediately. He needed to let her love wash away those wounds one day at a time, and then he would be ready, and he would gladly sire a whole houseful of children. Thus, it was much to his dismay that he learned that even the invocation of a deceased wife is to a living wife little different than the insertion of a shameless harlot into the marital bedchamber! Alas, while Pitkins may have had few secrets left to discover in the art of warfare or sword craftsmanship, the female heart still held many mysteries for him to unravel.

  A tear danced down Donive’s cheek as she thought about how cruel he was—to mention his deceased wife in their bedroom. Then, pangs of guilt stabbed into her gentle heart like knives, as she realized her selfishness. This angered her, since she suspected right was not perhaps entirely on her side, but after all he had asked her to marry him! Where were his all-too-painful memories then?! And upon discovering this inconsistency, she rejoiced inwardly, as if some invisible judge standing before her had just issued a verdict in her favor upon hearing that compelling argument.

  But then the pain returned, since she didn’t want to fight with Pitkins. She loved him so much, but she wouldn’t stay young and beautiful forever, and she wanted a family and—

  “Grrrr . . .. WO-WO-WO-WO!!” Mervin interrupted her reverie. He had risen to his full majestic height and stood on guard, ready to spill his last drop of blood for his blond queen. He had smelled something all right.

  Donive felt grateful at the distraction from her never-ending analysis but felt alarmed as to what it could be that alarmed Mervin. It had, after all, not been long since the Battle for Sodorf.

  “WUFFFF!” exclaimed Mervin, as if to let his queen know he still stood watch and that the danger had not yet passed.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere the tiniest, most innocent-looking little konulan she had ever seen (for Donive was quite learned in the study of birds) come flying straight at brave Mervin, only to divert at the last moment and go flying between all four legs.

  “BOWWW-WOWW!” he exclaimed more in embarrassment than anger and turned tail to chase the poor thing that seemed almost to be deliberately toying with him. The cute, yet naughty konulan now flew in small circles, and Mervin boxed the air admirably, though missing with every jab.

  “Mervin, you leave that poor bird alone!”

  “WUFF!” he exclaimed, as if to say, But, My Queen, you realize not the danger!

  Before she could scold the well-meaning beast any further, she felt something brush past her leg. She recoiled out of surprise rather than revulsion, for it was not an altogether unpleasant feeling.

  She looked down and looking up at her with the most innocent eyes she could ever imagine was a beautiful cat, as black as night.

  “Meowww,” it told her sweetly.

  She understood all at once. This cat had been chasing the poor bird. She turned and saw that Mervin was still boxing the air, rather than the bird.

  “Now, that’s a BAD kitty,” she turned to scold the trespasser, wagging her finger. But when she turned she saw the cat lying on its back, all four legs splayed out, and his eyes looking at her even more innocently than before.

  “Meowww,” he (for she now had enough information to disabuse herself of using the generic “it”) entreated her again.

  And then she realized everything.

  “Oh, you poor kitty,” she said and began rubbing his belly. “Not a home in the world, abandoned by all,” in a tone that was half-question, half-statement.

  Koksun purred majestically, Mervin turned to see what his queen was doing (the bird had now disappeared), and he barked indignantly to see another in her arms.

  “You be good now!” she chastised Mervin, and he promptly sat down on the grass as if to say, Those that are friends of My Queen are friends of mine.

  Donive’s nurturing instincts were temporarily satisfied by the poor creature she held in her arms, Pitkins would be ecstatic upon returning late from the shop to see that he would get the brief delay from fatherhood that he so desired, and all thanks to the imprisoned soul of a former Metinvurian assassin, whose organization had slain Pitkins’ last wife and family and whose true identity would have made him the indefensible target of Pitkins’ wrath, unsafe even in Donive’s arms.

  As the philosophers say, “Ignorance is bliss”!

  Chapter 16

  After Righty and Janie finished ending their love drought, Righty figured he better not rest on his laurels, since he knew he was not only a long way from being truly out of the doghouse with Janie, but he also hadn’t even yet begun to think of a way out of the misery that had prompted his vicious cycle of ox-like work, bank-breaking liquor binges, and nasty events at home afterwards he would prefer to forget.

  He turned to Janie. “Now, Janie, this isn’t exactly easy for me to admit, but the truth is I’m just about as ignorant as a box of rocks. But you know me, and I’m real determined. Maybe if you were to teach me, I could escape from that hellhole of a job.”

  Janie looked at Richie warily. She’d love to do it, but she was afraid he maybe wouldn’t take too kindly to her assuming the role of teacher. But what’s the point of even trying to stay in this relationship if he’s willing to work at it and you’re not? she asked herself pointedly. Okay, another voice said, but just one whiff of liquor on his breath and we’re sticking to The Resolution, and he’s history.

  “I’d love to, champ,” she said flirtatiously, “but I’ve got to finish up dinner. Little Eddie’s going to be home any minute now. In fact—” (she looked at the clock alarmed) “he should have already gotten home by now.”

  Well, that little fool of a kid’s probably off drawing wizards somewhere. How ‘bout we just forget about him? Righty thought to himself but said, “I’ll go call him; maybe he’s just playing with wizards or something. You know our boy,” and chuckled good-naturedly.

  Righty went outside and bellowed Eddie’s name at the top of his lungs and yelled for him to come inside. Janie had resumed cutting the ham she had been interrupted from a few hours earlier first to sharpen the knife, then to end The Great Drought.

  Minutes later, Eddie came marching into the house rapidly, avoiding eye contact with all, and went straight to his room. Had it not been for Richie’s presence, Janie would have been downright alarmed at this occurrence, but given the presence of the recently reformed Richie, Janie assumed Eddie must have been in fear for his life, seeing his dad at home so early, and had gone to his room to seek shelter.

  Although this line of reasoning was far from flattering to Righty, it was how he also summed up Eddie’s behavior. A knife may as well have struck him in the heart when he saw there were two shiners on Eddie’s face. He figured one might be his, but not the other. Inside his mind, he reaffirmed his resolve to himself. He would change.


  He looked at Janie, who seemed on the verge of tears. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, but it’s my duty to say it all the same. This is my fault. Every last bit of it. I’d go in there right now and try to straighten things out, but he needs some time. He needs to see I’ve changed. If I go waltzing in there right not, I’m just gonna scare the living heck out of him.”

  He would have continued, but Janie grabbed his arm softly yet confidently. “We’re going to get through this together, Richie. I’ll talk to him tomorrow while you’re at work and explain everything. He’ll come around.”

  Righty tried to think of something meaningful to say but couldn’t. Instead he found himself fighting back tears and losing the battle. He marched briskly to his seat at the table with the same decisiveness with which his son had just marched to his room.