Evil Jester Digest, Vol.1 (21 page)

The compass needle
spun in circles, jerking Sarah’s arm.

“What’s happening?” Mitch asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “The compass is acting strange.”

Mitch grabbed the compass and watched the needle spin. Confused, he handed it back and saw a squat little man sitting on a tree branch, legs dangling. His clothes were apple green.

“Hello,” Mitch said.

“Hello yourself.”

“I hope we aren’t disturbing you.”

“Why yes, you are,” he replied. “You’ve been stomping and bashing and smashing around these woods for the past two hours! Don’t you know the woods are haunted and won’t let you through unless you have a guide?”

“Yes, we know,” Sarah answered. “The Fatekeeper gave us this.”

The little man jumped off the branch and grabbed the compass. He held it up in the air, tapped the glass and turned, then tapped and turned again, repeating the process and gaining in speed.

The little fellow grew dizzy and fell over.

“Your compass is broken,” he said. “Pity. It sure was a nice one, too.” He stood up and handed the compass back. “So, the Fatekeeper sent you here? Let me guess…to eat ice cream? No, hot fudge sundaes? No! Strawberry and vanilla pudding with hot apple cider and cinnamon sticks! Mmmmmm! My favorite.” He turned to Mitch. “I bet you like snoodleberry and whippletart?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch began. “I never…”

“They’re my favorite,” he said, slipping his hand inside of Mitch’s fingers. “You should come over my house. Here, follow me.”

They followed the little man deeper into the woods.

The compass needle raced in circles.

*****

The Timekeeper threw
the glass orb in the air.

It spun, black as night, and just before it hit the floor, the Shadow caught it with an extended foot. “I have to be more careful,” The Timekeeper groaned, wiping imaginary beads of salt from its brow. It tucked the orb under its arm. “You almost fooled me with this, old witch. I commend you. Now, tell me…how does it feel to see death every time you look into this? Was this sight a fair trade for your eyes all those years ago?”

The Fatekeeper didn’t respond.

“Don’t be angry with me. You’ve spent years showing people when their hearts will stop. It was time to taste your own bitterness. Now, if you’ll help me, I’ll give this back to you.”

The Fatekeeper still didn’t respond.

“Could it be that you don’t want it back? How interesting. Remember, death trembles in only one direction, like the arrow of a compass. I am its only measure. But it doesn’t have to be like this. I could give you the power to see in every direction. You would like that, wouldn’t you? A direction for each day of the year? You could tell people about romance, who they’ll marry, or how many children they’ll have. You could tell them everything they’ll ever want to hear. Not just the time of their demise.”

The Fatekeeper’s lips trembled.

The Timekeeper loomed over the frail woman. “I see the place that makes tears doesn’t work anymore. Was that taken from you, too? How would you like that back as well? To shed tears of joy and sorrow with your visions?”

The Fatekeeper cried out in anguish.

“I know where they’re going,” the Shadow continued. “I don’t need you to tell me. They’re traveling to the Dreamkeeper. You were guiding them. No doubt, they are lost, by now. But still, my offer stands. Help me and I will help you.”

“They’ll pass the test,” the Fatekeeper hissed.

“No, they won’t. They will see what it’s like to grow old, to see the world crumble and die. And they won’t like it! They’ll run back to me. They’ll plead to grow young, like everyone else! Not to ponder directions. Yes, they will come to me and I will give them what they want. I will give them back their fading youth. I will turn their hourglasses over so they can once again breathe the spring air.”

The Fatekeeper laughed. “What do you know about feelings? All you know is clockwork. How to count the seconds in a minute. The minutes in an hour. The hours in a year. You know nothing. You are nothing. You exist because we allow you to exist. We are born without the knowledge of time. As we grow old, we fight against the acceptance of our mortality. We fight against you…a materialization in our system of order. You don’t breathe air, you breathe erosion. Your heart is the ticking of gears. Your blood is oil. Your face consists of numerals. You exist to make us aware of our impending death. That’s all.”

And the Timekeeper heard the ticking of its own heart.

And it knew what was said was true.

And it smashed the ball on the floor, in rage. Shards scattered and a green mist seethed and evaporated through the ceiling.

The Fatekeeper gasped. She saw the top of the wagon, the sky, the clouds. Then everything was gone, lost forever.

“Now,” the Timekeeper said, “you have no place in this carnival. You will be blind and lost in this ravine, with only the grass and worms to feed upon like a dirty animal. You will be alone with only your memories of all those you have hurt.”

The Timekeeper pulled back the cloth door and walked out, noticing high above, the green mist drifting toward the horizon like an escaped dream.

The Timekeeper followed.

Chapter 4

A Gold Coin

The sun was
high in the sky by the time they came upon the Forestkeeper’s home. They halted in front of a mountain with a huge tree on top, a hollow silver tree that echoed in the wind. With a little shake of the Forestkeeper’s hand, the ivy vines parted, revealing a secret passage that led deep inside.

They parked their bikes and followed their new friend into the darkness, marveling at the stalactites dipping from the ceiling like January icicles. Deeper and deeper they walked, lanterns guiding their way, until they came to a door. The Forestkeeper opened it, revealing a room chiseled into the metamorphic rock.

The room looked just like the forest outside. The floor was soft moss, and in each of the four corners were trees planted in clay pots, branches drooping with berries that smelled of wintergreen.

They sat down at a table molded out of marble. The Forestkeeper poured them each a cup of water from a decanter and placed a plate of gingerbread cookies on the table, close to Mitch.

“Spring water,” the Forestkeeper said. “There’s a fresh creek that flows through my closet.” He kicked the bottom of a nearby door and it swung open, revealing a waterfall that splashed down into the depths of the mountain. “So, where are you kids traveling?”

“We’re traveling to the Hall of Mirrors,” Mitch answered.

“So,” the Forestkeeper said, thumbing a gold coin in the air, “are you seeking the wisdom of the Dreamkeeper?”

“Yes,” Mitch said. “Do you know the Dreamkeeper?”

“I saw her once, in a dream, walking in the forest. She was extremely beautiful, black hair, eyes white as snow.”

“That’s who gave me the book!” Sarah exclaimed.

The Forestkeeper laughed. “Yes. She told me you were coming. That I had to help you. And that’s what I’m here to do! But just remember one thing. The path of dreams is the first step to the world of the dead. There are many names for the Dreamkeeper—the Reaper, the Harvester. Be very careful about what she will show you. But if you truly believe in your quest, you will have no problems.” He threw the coin up in the air for the fifth time. It spun, a blurred halo of gold, and landed in his palm. “Heads. That’s five in a row. What great luck!”

Then Sarah’s shirt pocket began to glow. She didn’t notice it at first, until she noticed Mitch’s eyes widen. Reaching inside, reluctantly, she pulled out the compass. An amber mist swirled in threads, like smoke from a candle. The needle stopped and pointed toward the door, then toward Chris, then the Forestkeeper.

“I’m sorry,” the Forestkeeper said, grabbing the compass. “It seems the Fatekeeper has lost her sight. Too bad. Hopefully she can find peace, wherever she is.”

He handed the compass back.

“Why are you still so young?” Mitch asked. “You look like you are as old as us.”

“That’s because, my friend, I’m a sprite of the forest, a guardian of this land. Time doesn’t influence my actions. I don’t look forward to summer, or back to winter. I don’t think about tomorrow. That causes wrinkles—too much thought. I am free to run in spring for as long as I wish.”

The Forestkeeper laughed and threw the coin in the air. Just as he was about to catch it, it bounced off his finger and landed on the table. The coin rolled and hit Mitch’s mug of water, stopping on its edge.

“Something’s wrong,” the Forestkeeper said, picking up the coin.

“It’s the Timekeeper,” Sarah whispered, holding her compass. “It’s followed the Fatekeeper’s sight!”

The three kids jumped up from their chairs and backed away from the door.

The Forestkeeper held his hands high up in the air, thumbs touching, fingers wiggling. He inhaled deeply and stood on his tiptoes. The potted plants began to grow from all four corners of the room. The clay pots broke and large brown roots unfolded, as if awakening from a deep slumber, shattering pieces everywhere. The roots spread across the floor, entwining around the table, pushing the marble with incredible strength.

The trees deposited the heavy table in front of the door, blocking the entrance.

“That should do it,” the Forestkeeper said. “There’s a secret passage behind the waterfall,” he continued, opening the closet door. “It leads to a trail outside. Follow me.”

“What about our bikes?” Mitch asked, peering into the closet.

“You’ll have to leave them for now. I’m sorry. We don’t have much time.”

The Forestkeeper wiggled his fingers again and a green vine swooped out of the darkness and wrapped around his body. Three more vines followed and grabbed the kids, lifting them gently down into the lair.

On all sides, they heard the roar of the waterfall as they plummeted down through the misted chamber. Soon, their feet struck ground. Sarah held the glowing compass over her head, lighting the chamber. They stood on a white bridge that arched over a black pool. The bridge led through the waterfall and into the darkness beyond. They ran through and climbed a long staircase that led out into the bright sunshine.

“This is the heart of the woods,” the Forestkeeper said. He pulled out a silver flute and blew three piercing notes. A robin swooped down and landed on his hand. “This bird will guide you to the Dreamkeeper’s lair.”

“Aren’t you going to come with us?” Mitch asked.

“No. I will create a diversion. It’ll slow the Timekeeper down. Take this, my friend. It will help you overcome your greatest challenge.”

The Forestkeeper handed Mitch a gold coin.

“But anyone who’s fought the Timekeeper has failed!” Mitch said. “I don’t want to lose another friend! Please! Come with us.”

The Forestkeeper rested his little hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “Don’t grieve over what’s to come. Everything is inevitable. Have a good journey. And don’t look back.”

The Forestkeeper held his hand up and the bird launched high in the air.

The three kids followed the beautiful bird through the woods as the trail closed in behind them.

*****

The Timekeeper emerged
from the cave and glided through the forest. It stopped in front of the Forestkeeper, who sat perched on the bow of a tree, biting into an apple.

“Want a bite?” the sprite asked. “It’s quite good.”

“I don’t eat fruit with worms in it,” the Shadow replied.

“Worms?” he laughed. “Why there are no…”

A huge black worm wiggled out of the apple’s core.

The Forestkeeper threw the apple and wiped off his hands.

“It seems your luck has just run out,” the Timekeeper said. “Have you ever eaten of a fruit that had a worm in it?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

The Timekeeper picked up the apple. “Yes, it does. It means everything! Now when you pluck a fruit, you’ll rationalize whether or not it has a worm in the center. Or maybe if all of them are infested. It will force you to reason, to pick a better fruit. This will alter your reality, and your luck will perish. Now, tell me…which direction did they go? One o’ clock? Two? Five? Tell me and I will give you back your luck by leaving these woods forever.”

“I will not tell,” the Forestkeeper answered. “But there are an infinite amount of possibilities. Choose one, and maybe you’ll have good fortune!”

“Enough of these games!” The Timekeeper clenched the fruit, and threads of smoke engulfed the stem and pulp. “Your power doesn’t work on me! I have altered your luck by entering your forest. Now we dwell in repetition and reality. Your luck is now clockwork. Go ahead and pick another fruit off the tree. See if this transformation has not yet begun!”

The sprite regarded the fruits hanging off the branches.

“See,” the Timekeeper hissed. “Have you ever thought about which fruit to choose? Or was it instinctual?”