Jabberwocky (15 page)

“With that many soldiers maybe they overwhelmed it,” said Elora.

“Maybe,” said Tjaden. “And it’s possible they took heavy losses learning its secrets. I have no doubt Darieus wanted both of us to die there. And Ollie too, before he broke his leg. Darieus will probably send a company to find out if I succeeded. He really wants that head.”

As Tjaden told her about the morbid collection of animals, she snuggled close and rested her head on his shoulder. She dozed off and Tjaden let her sleep there for a while before helping her into her bedroll.

Two days later they reached the fork in the road where Tjaden had encountered the grinning Cheshire Cat. He told Elora everything he could remember about the conversation. But the cat was nowhere to be seen so they rode on. After fifty paces, Tjaden turned to take one last glance and thought he saw the outline of a wide grin above the branch where the cat had been. It faded as he stared until he couldn’t make it out.

Palassiren came into view the next day. Before getting close enough to be seen by the guards, Tjaden and Elora stopped to change riding arrangements and rest the horses. They had been riding double, leaving the other horse to bear the severed head. But as they approached the walls of the city, Tjaden rode with the head secured awkwardly behind him and Elora on her own horse at his side. Their plan hinged on making a noticeable entrance.

Tjaden allowed the horses a slow pace until they had a clear view of the guards at the gate. As soon as he was close enough to be recognized, he urged his horse to gallop, but ended up galumphing with his unwieldy cargo. A cry went up before they had entered the city and by the time they reached the market-lined streets, people were gathered to see the cause of the commotion.

As Tjaden and Elora passed the crowds with evidence of their victory prominently displayed, the people erupted in cheering and encouragement. Children hid in their mothers’ skirts, terrified by the beast’s gaping maw. Grown men and women cheered and shed tears of joy as they waved the happy couple through the streets. The applause got louder and the crowds grew bigger as they neared the city’s center.

They didn’t slow or waver, but rode straight for the large plaza inside the inner walls of the city. Instead of stopping in the center of the square in front of the palaces, Tjaden galumphed in wide circles around the plaza, allowing the surging citizenry time to gather. Thousands swarmed into the common square—cheering, crying, rejoicing.

PART VI

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

Darieus, his military garb replaced by a royal robe, soon arrived with a sizeable guard. A hint of surprise showed on his face as Tjaden slowed his mount and reined in. Before he got within ten paces of the king regent he was cut off by Elites.

They aren’t even going to let me near him.
Their reaction confirmed what Tjaden already knew. But he had planned for such a reaction.

Leaving the trophy and his sword tied to the horse, Tjaden dismounted and immediately bent to one knee. Faint blood stains still showed on the cobbles and he realized he was kneeling where the Jabberwocky had wrought so much carnage.

One more,
thought Tjaden.
One more death will end it all.

The cheers from the crowd started to die down, but Tjaden remained in the same position with his head bowed. Darieus was stuck. He had no choice but to push past his guards and approach Tjaden.

Darieus paused, looming over Tjaden. When he spoke, his voice was formal, and loud enough to carry through the crowd, “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?”

Tjaden rose, looking as proud and innocent as possible.

“Come to my arms, my beamish boy!” He embraced Tjaden theatrically.

Turning back to the audience, he announced, “Behold! My champion has slain the Jabberwocky!”

Ear shattering applause filled the plaza. Darieus basked in the adulation, and Tjaden attempted to remain calm as nervous sweat dripped down his chest and arms. As the cheering continued he watched Darieus’ vanity mount.

When Tjaden had arrived with Elora and the head, Darieus had been cautious. He had no way of knowing how Tjaden would act or if he would make accusations. The humble pretense had worked, Darieus was at ease.

Standing there soaking up the ovation, Tjaden heard him chortling, “O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! I’ve done it. They’re mine. It’s all mine.” The noise of the crowd kept Darieus’ words from all but Tjaden.

As the applause died down, Tjaden returned to the horse and untied the detached head then placed it in front of Darieus. That was it, his whole plan. He had followed the Jabberwocky’s instructions, but was unsure what to do next.

Beast and despot faced each other. Threatening grimace matched by satisfied smile. The Jabberwocky’s heavy eyelids were closed and the upper lip was frozen in a menacing snarl, jaws opened as wide as possible. It didn’t have fangs, but oversized, flat front teeth which, in their current position, were level with a man’s shoulders. The smell was horrible, but no worse than when the creature was alive. The color had faded slightly. Instead of the intense green-black the Jabberwocky exhibited when alive, the lifeless skin has become dull, like a rotting lime just before being covered with mold.

At full attention, Tjaden stood at the king regent’s side. Shouting to be heard by the still growing crowd he proclaimed, “My king! I present to you… THE JABBERWOCKY.” With a sweep of his traveling cloak he made a theatrical bow.

Darieus turned to face Tjaden, leaving the gaping jaws to his right. Not to be outdone, Darieus declared, “On behalf of the people of Maravilla, I accept your trophy!”

In an elegant gesture the king regent fanned his cloak wide and returned the bow, his right shoulder inches under the upper jaw of the Jabberwocky.

As the wind from the flourish reached the Jabberwocky’s flared nostrils, the eyes twitched under the closed lids. Darieus’ scent triggered some reflex and the jaws snapped shut like a bear trap. There was no time to dodge or retract, and the teeth clamped down directly on his chest. His cautiousness had been discarded and his arrogance brought him into the beast’s reach. The jaw was locked in death, Darieus’ flailing body firmly clenched within.

The surrounding soldiers, including Tjaden, rushed to free their king, but it was hopeless. By the time axes and sledges arrived to batter the skull, Darieus’ death rattle had come and gone. In time they extricated the king regent’s corpse, but the Jabberwocky’s skull was smashed beyond recognition in the process. The festive atmosphere had turned mournful and the citizens watched the crushed corpse of their beloved leader shrouded, then carried away.

For the people of Palassiren, and all of Maravilla, it was a day of rejoicing and a day of grieving. Tjaden and Elora, however, felt only relief. As he looked at the Jabberwocky’s mangled head, Tjaden was glad the skeleton would never be complete.

Vengeance is ours
, he thought.

Elora came to him and slid under his arm into his embrace. She looked up into his eyes and they both knew their future had opened up again. The Jabberwock was slain, the traitor dead, and vengeance served.

PART VII

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Despite the full sun it was a chilly day. The residents of Shey’s Orchard gathered with anticipation on the wabe. Tjaden stood waiting in full military attire—dark blue uniform emblazoned with the Circle and the Sword. Though only fifteen months had passed, he appeared years older than the last time the townsfolk had seen him.

Ollie rested on his heels at Tjaden’s side, also wearing the dark blue. Tjaden glanced proudly at the two colored bars on the left side of Ollie’s chest. The first had a blue background with a gold arrow in the foreground. The sharpshooter medal was difficult to earn, even for soldiers who specialized in archery. Ollie had earned it before completing training, despite being bedridden for a month.

The second bar was much less common. It had only been awarded thrice in the history of the Elites. It was plain white with a gold letter “J” in the form of a claw. Tjaden wore its twin. He had insisted that Ollie be given the award, since it was his arrow that had injured the Jabberwocky’s wing. Tjaden explained to Captain Markin, the new leader of the Elites, that the wound had saved him three times. First, it prevented the Jabberwocky from reaching the clearing and alighting directly on top of Tjaden. Second, whiffling through the forest had slowed it down and given Tjaden time to prepare for the Jabberwocky. Third, the coarse trail left behind the Jabberwocky had allowed Elora and him to escape.

Tjaden’s thoughts returned to the moment and he wondered why time passed so slowly whenever he wanted it to go fast. The large crowd was behind him so he inspected the wabe ahead anxiously.

The toves, having been evicted from their nests under the sundial, wandered around the wabe gyring and gimbling, then picking at the uprooted grubs and worms. Borogoves, looking miserable and flimsy in contrast to the festive atmosphere, honked lazily and flew overhead.

Leaning to Ollie, Tjaden asked, “What could be taking so long?”

Ollie chuckled. “You still have a lot to learn about women if you expected her to be on time.”

“I thought that’s why the ceremony was scheduled at brillig, so she could have all day to prepare.”

“I know you must be feeling about as excited as an adolescent Jubjub bird, but give her a few minutes.”

Tjaden blushed and was about to defend himself when a murmur passed through the crowd. The sight when he looked up made his breath catch in his throat. Nothing could possibly be so pure and beautiful. Realizing it was his bride-to-be, a warm shiver passed through his body. Ten feet tall didn't begin to describe how he felt.

Elora was arrayed in white from head to heel, her veil thin enough to show her radiant face and wide smile. The red ribbon she’d been wearing around her wrist was gone, and her own ribbon was no longer in her hair, but in her hand. Her dark hair was a stunning contrast to the brilliant white gown. Around her neck she wore, on a thin gold chain, an oval medallion—white, with a claw-like “J” in the center. It was the only medal ever awarded to a citizen by the Elites. When young King Antion presented her with the medallion, she had to kneel and bow in order for him to reach high enough to place it around her neck. One of his advisors, Lady Palida, offered to lift the king, or call for a stool, but Elora claimed it an honor to kneel before the young king.

She took her place at Tjaden’s side, offering her hand and the ribbon. In contrast to his thick, calloused hand, Elora’s was dainty, and even silkier than the ribbon they both clutched. In unison they turned to gaze at each other. The world around them faded, as it had when he faced the bandersnatch, at the Swap and Spar, and in the final encounter with the Jabberwocky.

Elora was all that mattered.

Tellef’s voice came from somewhere else, and Tjaden didn’t know, or care, if the audience still looked on. He was oblivious to the toves and borogoves that witnessed the ceremony, and even to a pair of raths who had wandered onto the wabe looking for their owner.

Tellef was reaching the end of the ceremony. “Do you, Tjaden and Elora, accept one another as husband and wife?”

The onlookers were silent as the couple opened their mouths in unison to answer. Instead of the pure sound of two lovers committing to each other, they heard a bellowing whistle with an interspersed sneeze, as one of the raths outgrabe loudly. The audience snickered and clapped as Tellef presented the new couple.

End
Jabberwocky

Also available by Daniel Coleman –
Hatter

The tale of Chism the Elite and of a young man named Hatta, and his ascent into madness.

Glossary

Bandersnatch
– A swift moving creature with snapping jaws.

Beamish
– Radiantly happy.

Borogove
– A thin, shabby-looking bird with its feather sticking out all around. Looks something like a live mop.

Brillig
– Four o’clock in the afternoon. The time when you begin broiling things for dinner.

Burble
– A mixture of a bleat, murmur, and warble.

Chortle
– Combination of chuckle and snort.

Eleventeen –
Between the ages of ten and thirteen.

Frabjous
– Fair, fabulous, and joyous.

Frumious
– Combination of fuming and furious. Frequently used to describe a bandersnatch that has lost its temper.

Galumph
– An awkward gallop.

Gimble
– To make holes as with a gimlet

Gimlet
– A hand tool used to drill small holes.

Gyre
– To go round and round like a gyroscope.

Jubjub Bird
– A desperate bird that lives in perpetual passion.

Manxome
– More than fearsome.

Mimsy
– Miserable and flimsy.

Mome
– Short for ‘from home’, as someone who has lost their way.

Outgribe
– Something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle.

Rath
– A sort of green pig.

Slithy
– Slimy and lithe.

Sprythe
– Spry and sharp like a scythe.

Tove
– An animal resembling a badger, a lizard and a corkscrew. They prefer to make their nests under sundials.

Tulgey
– Thick, dark, and entwined.

Tweedle
– A simpleton; imbecile.

Uffish
– A state of mind when the voice is gruffish, the manner roughish, and the temper huffish.

Wabe
– The grass plot around a sundial. It is called a “wabe” because it goes on a long way before it, a long way behind it, and a long way beyond it on each side.