Too Many Curses (15 page)

Squeal shudder.

"What do you mean you already knew that? He was eaten whole, swallowed to the last bite, you know."

The Door rumbled.

"Well of course I know that such has never been more than an inconvenience for a powerful wizard. But the castle, it doesn't want him back."

Groan.

"You neither, eh? Now what's ol' Margle ever done to you?"

The Door bent backward in a thoughtful lean. It rumbled softly.

"But what's the point in having a door of evil if he never intends on opening it?"

Thump.

"Oh. Well, we haven't much time then, do we? If we're to have our fun before that dull ol' wizard ruins it all." He leaned forward. "Can't you find someone else to open you?"

Creak creak. Squeak. Groan groan creak,
said the Door.

"Nessy? Oh, well, that'll never happen. Nessy is too goody-good. A sweet little creature. Sweet and tasty."

Groan. Shudder. Groan shudder thud.

Decapitated Dan laughed. "Oh, I like that idea. Don't know if it would work though. Nessy's not quite so gullible as you might think."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Calm down now." The skull peered down at Mister Bones, worried the Door's excitement might wake the skeleton. But the dead weren't easy to wake.

"I'm not saying it won't work. I'm just saying it might not."

The Door tilted in a slouch.
Creeeaaak.

"Don't give up now. If she doesn't, you still have ol' Dan on your side. We'll find a way to have our fun yet. One way or another."

The Door At The End Of The Hall thumped an evil chuckle while Decapitated Dan giggled madly.

The demon in The Purple Room had a habit of talking to herself. This was very easy to do as Margle had transformed her into a swarm of fireflies. There were a lot of herselves to talk to. All shared one mind, but this demon had never been one to keep quiet. A thousand tiny mouths only made this weakness easier to indulge. The fluttering of her wings filled The Purple Room, but only one insect was alight, a single firefly sitting atop a lump of coal.

"Careful," she said. "Careful."

"Don't burn too quickly," said another of her multitude. "Stoke it slowly."

The lump glowed soft orange. The demon inhaled every last wisp of smoke, soaked in every lick of flame. Her fiery tail grew larger and larger as the coal slowly burned. Nothing could be wasted.

"It's working."

"It will work."

"It must work."

The rest of the fireflies gathered in the light. Their eager eyes glinted.

"Nessy was foolish to give this to me."

"No. Nessy isn't foolish. Such a lovely creature, exquisite in her forthrightness. I must confess, I could grow rather fond of her."

Half of the swarm chuckled.

"Unfortunate that I shall have to kill her. Perhaps I might secure her soul before doing so. Wouldn't that be marvelous?"

"Alas, no," countered an insect in a low, sad tone. "Such a beautiful jewel would lose its splendor in my hands. Such a pity to desire something that would find destruction in my possession."

"Even more a pity that I still desire it despite that truth."

The coal crumbled to ash. The lit firefly burned deep, deep red.

"Is it working?" asked several of the swarm.

"It is. I can feel it." She hovered high. "Little did Nessy understand what she has given me. For too long, Margle kept me from the flame, from the dear, dear fire. But now, the balance is tipped, and I am finally stronger than the cursed enchantment which binds me to this room."

"Only just," she reminded herself.

"Yes, but it is enough. It must be enough."

"But the risk. Dare I take it? Even my immortality is not without limits."

She shuddered. Death for demons was a most unwholesome prospect. To perish was to return to the underworld. And to stay there. Forever. Rarely did demons find escape from their prison. But there was always that hope. Except when they died. Then they must consign themselves to eternity. The pits of the damned weren't the kind of place anyone wanted to stay for long. Not even an ancient demon lord.

Hard determination gleamed in her thousand eyes. "Dare I not take it?"

"No. Once Margle returns from his inconvenient death, I'll have lost my chance. Tonight, one way or another, I will leave this room." She flitted before the door.

The other fireflies glowed soft white, a sea of twinkling stars behind the bright red leader. They flared a dazzling brilliance, and one by one, they added their heat to the lead insect. Slowly, carefully, within the space of an hour or two, all the demon's power resided within the single firefly remaining. The rest were reduced to thousands of tiny ashen piles on the floor.

The demon's immense flame seethed with screaming rage. The fire howled, sending quakes through The Purple Room. She focused, drawing it about her tiny form in a churning, shrieking sphere. Grinning, she hurled herself into the door. There was an explosion as magic clashed
against magic. In fact, very little force was released on a physical level. But the metaphysical shock waves rocked the castle at a supernatural level, and had Margle not wisely taken the precaution of reinforcing its astral foundation, the castle would surely have crumbled. As it was, hardly anyone noticed. Only a few nearby ghosts (who developed mysterious, numbing headaches), a skull on a spice rack who cackled madly, a hellhound trapped in a carpet, a gnat no one ever heard and a single dark wizardess.

The door to The Purple Room fell off its hinges. Too exhausted even to fly, the demon scuttled from her prison and inhaled the fresh air. It wasn't very fresh, a bit stale actually, but nothing had ever smelled quite so sweet.

She chuckled. "Now just a bit of rest, and I'll be ready to destroy that damned wizard once and for all. And his precious castle. Then I'll see about doing something about this pathetic mortal world."

She paused, expecting herself to say something else, but there were no other herselves left to speak. She folded her wings in a shrug.

"All things in their own time."

Needing to gather her strength, she turned to scuttle into a secure dark crevice and came face to face with a large, speckled brown toad.

"Hello," said the toad. "You wouldn't happen to be a princess, would you?"

The demon squinted into the amphibian's black eyes. "No."

"Too bad. I myself am a prince, vexed with this loathsome form. And while I can't say for certain it would work, I've heard a princess's kiss could undo such a curse. And I know that somewhere in this castle there is at least one princess in some similarly accursed shape. With a single kiss, we could do both ourselves a great favor. Maybe even fall in love and well . . . who knows what else?" He smiled. "Fairy tale nonsense, of course, but one can dream."

The demon, who had a great love of her own voice but very little affection for anyone else's, glared at the toad.

"Are you certain you're not a princess?" he asked again. "There would be a wonderful dramatic irony to a toad prince and a firefly princess."

"I'm not a princess." Her voice boomed. "I am a queen. Queen of the abyss, mistress of the screaming void, regent of the blistering flame and . . ."

The toad's tongue flicked out, mostly by its own instinct, and he swallowed the demonic insect before he'd truly known he'd done so.

"Oh darn. I didn't get a chance to ask if she knew of any princesses."

Frowning, he belched a small spark of flame.

"Spicy."

He hopped away in search of any other treats and/or princesses flittering about.

Gnick the gnome found himself polishing well into the night as he did every night. He knew he could never complete
his task. The hope had long ago left him. But he kept on, compelled by ancient silver gnome custom. Although, when it grew late enough and when he was certain no one was looking, he'd pretend to sleep, which was as close to sleep as he allowed himself.

Atop the dragon armor, he paused in shining its horns to commit the aforementioned, near unforgivable sin of his race. While his eyes were closed in simulated slumber, he heard a rustle in the armory.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" He rubbed the horns vigorously. "I wasn't asleep. I was just resting my eyes. I have every right to rest my eyes from time to time. I'm allowed!"

There came no reply. Gnick glanced around the armory and saw no one. Of course, not everyone in the castle could be seen at a glance.

"Is someone there?"

Silence filled the armory. But there was something amiss. He could feel it, and since he spent all his time in the armory, he trusted he should know. He thought of the hellhound roaming the castle. But Gnick wasn't undead, and perfectly safe. Yet he was definitely getting a tingling foreboding that stood his bushy eyebrows on end and put a twitch in his beard.

More rustling. Louder this time and sounding distinctly of metal against metal.

"Whoever is out there, you'd best show yourself. If you think Margle has a way with curses, you've yet to see a bane of the gnome folk. I'll turn your fingers to gold, your eyes to
pearls, a tongue of copper. Try sneaking up on someone when you've got platinum toes!"

The threat seemed to have driven the intruder away. There was only quiet in the armory. But his eyebrows kept tingling. His beard still twitched. He attributed this to an overactive imagination, leaned against the dragon armor's horns, and closed his eyes. Another moment or two of feigned sleep would do him good.

The clatter of banging metal filled the chamber.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!"

The plate mail of the fabled Blue Paladin stepped from its pedestal. A troll-spiked carapace broke free of its display case, taking up a halberd and shield. A suit of granite and limestone made for rock brutes lumbered past. A dozen tiny pixie protective leathers zipped high in the air. All around, the armors were filled with sudden life. As the armory was Gnick's responsibility, he was thoroughly vexed.

"What's this nonsense?" he snarled.

The suits each raised their head in his direction to peer at him with eyes they didn't have.

"Get back to your places! Right now! This very instant!"

The armors shook, clanging with silent laughter. One smacked a gauntlet across the back of another with an echoing gong.

Gnick glared. "I polish you every day, and this is the respect I get."

The shell of the Blue Paladin waved to his comrades and, dutifully, they marched from the chamber.

"One little tarnish and you'll be back! You'll all be back!"

The dragon armor shifted unexpectedly. The gnome tumbled and rolled down its back and tail to land harshly on the stone floor. Though he was immortal, he could still be hurt, and it felt as if he'd broken his arm.

The armor of the dragon czar raised its helmet as if unleashing a mighty bellow. It thumped its iron tail and joined its smaller cousins in their unprecedented stroll. It stooped to leave the chamber, but its steel wings brushed the archway, tearing away chunks of stone. It disappeared around the corner.

Clutching his damaged limb, Gnick walked after them, but they were gone, vanished into a dead end. Even the dragon armor had somehow disappeared without a trace.

Gnick didn't know what to make of it. Margle's castle was a refuge of infinite possibilities, but this was more than a strange occurrence. This was outright disorder in his armory. He looked at all the empty pedestals and broken cases.

And he smiled. It was that much less to polish.

"Next time, take a few more swords with you," he suggested to the wall through which they'd gone.

Fortune hadn't always been a very good hunter. It'd taken him some time to adjust to his cat body, to find the stealth built into his graceful black form. For many months, he'd relied on Nessy to take care of him. It was her job to do so,
but Fortune had never been one to depend upon others. His whole life, he'd trusted only two things: himself and his luck. That he was now a cat showed even the latter had been a mistake.

He wasn't entirely sure of that. When he'd come to Margle to propose his wager, he'd been hoping to retire. Had Fortune won, great wealth would've been his, but he knew himself well enough. It would've been gambled away eventually. Perhaps a year. Perhaps ten. Spending it would've been fun, but the end would always be the same. Now, as a cat, he enjoyed a simple life of napping and prowling. Margle's castle was always an interesting place. So in a way, his luck had given him what he'd wanted. Not exactly, but close enough.

Now that he was good at it, he quite enjoyed hunting. Waiting patiently for an hour or two. Staring at a hole in the wall. Hearing the click of tiny claws. Then seeing the little nose and beady pink eyes poke out cautiously. This was the tricky part. He couldn't move yet. He had to wait for the right moment. He stood stock still, save for his tail that swished back and forth of its own accord. He narrowed his eyes, and thought of himself as invisible. The mouse stepped from its protective shelter. It was white and brown. Fortune licked his lips. Nothing tasted quite so good as a white and brown mouse.

His haunches tightened in preparation for the pounce.

"Look out! Look out!" shouted a large potted sunflower. The mouse darted back into the wall. Fortune pounced but missed.

His ears flattened. "Why do you do that?"

Rose the sunflower shrugged her leaves. "You can't expect me to just sit by and watch that carnage, can you?"

"It's nature." He flicked his tail.

"That's easy to say when you're the cat."

Fortune stalked back and forth across the crack, occasionally peering within. "And what am I supposed to do for a meal?"

"I fail to see how your right to exist supersedes the mouse's."

"Big things eat small things. It's the way it is."

"And sometimes, little things get away from big things," she said. "That's also the way it is."

"Hadn't really thought of it like that, but an excellent point." Fortune smiled. "I should warn you though. It's bad luck to make a black cat go hungry."