“So, all roads lead to the Isle of the Eye?”
My‑re’s eyes fluttered open at the comment. She glanced around at her surroundings in the bright morning sun. She glanced and remembered the old wagon driver, Chuck. She sat on a tight canvas-covered two-person wagon stacked full of supplies. Little more than an old board, her stiff seat had rough edges. Surrounded by a sea of lush green grass, they swayed in the wind like an ocean. Dirt trenches, perfectly fitting the wagon’s wheels, lay on the well-traveled road before them.
My‑re remembered Chuck had taken her to the Isle of the Eye after she won the Blood Games tournament in Valamantis over a year ago. She turned and glanced at the side of the cart. In faded white paint, ‘Chuck’s Wagon’ identified the cart and driver.
“Am I dead?” My‑re asked and sneezed twice from the brightness of the sun.
“Nah,” Chuck replied.
“Did I get resurrected?”
“Nope.”
Everything seemed real. My‑re checked over her body for wounds, but nothing. She saw the Grey Wand in her right hand. What in the nine hells? She remembered battling the Lake of Mists’ monster at the bottom of the water, and now she found herself here. It had to be some afterlife.
“That be an interesting stick ye got there, lass. May I see it?” Chuck asked, his voice carrying a strange undertone.
At the question, instinct caused her to grip the Grey Wand tighter. My‑re glanced toward Chuck. His boots and pants were brown cowhide, well faded, stretched out, and appeared nice once. He wore a low-cut, tan cotton shirt, which revealed white and grey chest hair. She noticed his belt showed an obvious progression of notches corresponding with the man's expanding waistline. His white hairline receded on both sides of his head. The middle was thinned and slicked back from sweat. Yet, something didn't seem quite right when My‑re met his eyes. They were faded, emotionless, and had no soul behind them. Bringing the wand to the other side of her body, she said, "I'm keeping it safe for a friend."
“Ah, don’t ye be unfriendly,” Chuck said. “There be a long road ahead.”
As he spoke, My‑re caught something out of the corner of her eye that wasn’t right about how his lips moved when he spoke, like they were going in different directions. Uneasiness swept through her core. She felt cornered and braced her legs. Keeping a tight grip on the wand, she brought it to her lap like she would permit him to see it. She forced a smile, hoping he’d reach for it to get a better look.
Chuck complied. He smiled, but it went vertical instead of his mouth going horizontal. The serrated teeth of a predator circled its circumference.
My‑re’s gladiator instincts took over. She threw a rock-fisted punch of incredible felling power! She struck him in the face. It felt like she had hit hardened jelly. Her fist sunk into his head. It quickly reformed with no damage.
“Now, dat wasn’t friendly,” Chuck’s vertical mouth replied. “Oh, I got the mouth wrong, didn’t I.” It then reformed correctly, yet its serrated teeth remained.
My‑re cursed in Rathiri, roughly translated to ‘blessed fertilizer.’ Pushing from her seat, she hammered down a ferocious forearm smash, striking him again in the face. Her arm stung at the impact. It sunk into his gelatin-like forehead.
“Lass, all I desire is the wand,” Chuck’s mouth unnaturally formed the words as if speaking wasn’t its biological purpose.
Changing tactics, My‑re tried to knock Chuck off the wagon and ride away. Her legs smashed outward, kicking with tremendous force! She struck him in the left arm. He toppled over the side of the wagon.
Snorting in satisfaction, My‑re stumbled back as Chuck's leg slithered, elongated over the seat like a tentacle, and wrapped around her waist with incredible quickness. She yelped as it pulled her off to the ground below. Her face bore the brunt of the impact. Stars exploded across her vision.
She groaned. My‑re’s front teeth ached. She spat dirt, turning into mud in her mouth. She rose and saw Chuck a few feet away. His tentacle reformed into a leg. Charging, she howled in desperation. She snapped a full-force kick at her foe! She struck him in the face. She continued to kick at him.
Between blows, Chuck said, “It’s going to take more…than knocking me to the ground…and kicking me in the face…to keep me…from what…I…want.”
My‑re backed away from the downed driver, breathing heavily, and looked for a moment’s rest.
Chuck sat up, and the various bulges in his body popped back out. Besides some dust, his form returned to normal despite her beating.
My‑re went into a defensive stance, using the wand for protection.
Chuck held out a hand in supplication.
“Are you a god?” My‑re questioned.
“Yes,” Chuck answered without hesitation, but his tone changed. It sounded like someone gargling phlegm. He paused, then continued, “At least how your mind understands the term, child,” he answered in a gurgling voice.
My‑re cringed in disgust at the sound of the mouth as its serrated teeth moved side to side. She then thought the comment about her being a ‘child’ odd, like an elder addressing a lesser. “You’re the monster? What are you?”
“Monster? I suppose that is what an insect would feel toward a giant about to crush it,” Chuck said as if in thought, as the words bubbled from his mouth. “As to what am I, how would you explain what you are to a rodent so it could understand? That is how far I am above your child-like race.”
My‑re noticed Chuck looking at the wand intently.
“You’ll have the wand over my dead body, Chucky.”
“Child, I’m the only thing keeping you alive,” Chuck chuckled as his mouth distorted unnaturally. “I’ll have the wand, but not over your dead body. I left the one you called Spymaster Edward and planned on inhabiting that more manlike form in the water with you. He proved resilient, unlike your female form. However, they had too many flapping parts, so a change of clothes, so to speak, feels nice. I’ll inhabit yours.”
“That won’t happen,” My‑re said, pointing the wand at him.
“Foolish child. It amuses me you don’t understand. I’m already in your body.”