Abaddon VII

The raucous laughter and loud talk were silenced by the entrance of the Princess and her Bandersnatch. Eluned surveyed the dim, smoky room with curiosity and was delighted. The rough hewn plank tables and benches and the even more roughly hewn men and women that occupied them brought a secret smile to her lips not dissimilar to that of the Mona Lisa. This is life, she thought. The air reeked of tobacco, wood smoke and human sweat. Eluned inhaled, deeply, entranced.

Jabberwock, on the other hand, was regretting his decision to stay here. We should have camped beneath the stars, he thought, observing the shocked faces of the inn’s customers. As he was wondering whether or not there would be any trouble, the innkeeper, a tall, thin man reminiscent of a great blue heron with his bushy black eyebrows, scruffy white beard and long, thin and pointed nose, rushed forward with his bright-eyed robin of a wife.

Eluned wondered if the innkeeper’s wife would awake her the following morning with an “ain’t you ‘shamed you sleepy head?” Jabberwock had often said that very thing when, during the past decade, she had nodded off over their lessons.

“Princess,” the innkeeper croaked, and then cleared his throat. “Princess, welcome.” He glanced down at Jabberwock and back at the princess, yellow eyes twitching, nervously. “Norm’ly we doesn’t allow pets, yer Highness, but,” he glanced back down at Bandersnatch and mumbled something.

“Oh, dear, dear, don’t worry,” the innkeeper’s wife twittered when she saw the lightning flash of anger in the Princess’s eyes, “o’course yer pet kin sleep wit yer. Boris, shame on yer,” she nudged her husband with a plump little hand. “Yer fergettin’ yerself and yer manners. Show’m t’ther room. More’n likely ther want’a be freshnin up afore supp.”

With little more than a backward glance at Eluned and the Bandersnatch, Boris led the couple through the still silent crowd and up the stairs at the far side of the big room. As they ascended, the talk and laughter began again, quietly at first then rising until the din was so loud, the Princess couldn’t hear herself think.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The Princess asked as she shut the door behind them. The thick walls and the heavy wooden door shut out most of the noise.

“What? And be thrown in with the horses and mules for sure!” Jabberwock scolded. “That is, if they didn’t throw me on that spit and burn me alive, and you, too, for that matter. Just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean you can’t be a witch. Burned at the stake we’d be and no one would ever say a word! No. Sometimes it is better to keep your mouth shut.”

Eluned paled and began to survey the room. “Is this their best?” she asked, shocked. Touching the thin, straw mattress, her face paled even further. She looked as if she expected to be attacked by bed bugs. She wiped her hand on the soft, gray wool of her cloak, then spying the pitcher and wash bowl on a rickety table proceeded to wash her hands. The soap smelled strongly of lye.

“Enjoy it,” he said, his eyes snapping with amusement, “tomorrow we sleep on the ground.”

“The ground?” She was horrified.

“You wanted the adventure. I never said you would get luxury accommodations.”

“I think that I would rather sleep on the ground than in that bed.”

“Well, don’t tell the innkeeper that. You’ll insult him.” As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Eluned jumped, guiltily. But it was just Boris’s wife (Zelda, she introduced herself) wanting to know if they wished to supp in “ther room.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” Eluned said, remembering the silence and the curious, bordering on rude, stares of the country folk downstairs.

“Ale er wine?”

“Wine, please.” She was a very polite princess. Zelda bustled off. Eluned had another moment’s misgivings when she suddenly imagined Zelda arriving with a platter full of plump and juicy worms. Her fears were unfounded for the innkeeper’s wife soon returned with two heavy pottery bowls filled with thick, savoury stew, steaming, fresh-from-the-oven bread, sweet, creamy butter and an earthen jug filled with cool, spiced, red wine. The Princess hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the food was set before her. As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, she had been so eager that morning to leave her prison of eighteen years behind (a castle, she reminded herself and felt a momentary guilty twinge about her devastated parents), that she had thought of doing nothing but putting one foot in front of the other for so long that not only had she forgotten to eat, breakfast or lunch, but she had had to be reminded about the gift she clasped in her hand.

“You’re salivating,” the Bandersnatch remarked when Zelda had left them to their meal.

A pretty pink tongue was directed at Jabberwock, “Phooey on you,” she replied, spooning the rich broth into her mouth.

Abaddon VI

“Try asking Omni.”

“In other words, you don’t know.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So, you do know,” she stamped her foot. He simply gazed unwaveringly into her eyes. She sighed. “But you’re not going to tell me.” She withdrew from beneath her blouse, the small, suede pouch she wore around her neck, and slipped the stone inside. And it was a long time before she thought of it again.

Eluned slung her bag over her shoulder and was soon ambling down the road, every step bringing her closer to the mountains in the east. Behind her left shoulder, the sun slowly burned its way toward the horizon hidden from her sight by the castle’s walls. Another mile and the castle and the world she was leaving would disappear from view as she and Jabberwock entered the foothills that rolled in muted tones of brown and gold into the mountains beyond.

“Queen Fuchsia was from the fertile lands beyond the Devastation of Pelf.”

“You mean the Kingdom of Bramble?”

“Yes, but that is hard to admit now. Of course, it wasn’t so corrupt back then. Anyway, that is where I met her . . .”

“Am I like her?”

“She is the reason I am here now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me finish my story. When she reached her eighteenth birthday, she was sent to your great-grandfather’s . . .”

“King Seraph?”

“Yes . . .your great-grandfather’s kingdom to be his bride. I attempted, through cajolery, even bribery, to inveigle her to disappear. I knew that what she was doing was not right for her, that she was marrying the king through a misguided sense of honor and responsibility. I knew, even then, that it would all come to a bad end, that at the very least, it would leave her name tarnished and battered, never to be spoken in her land or any other.

“But she married the king with much pageantry, pomp and fanfare, not to mention a touch of theatrics and more than a little bit of grandeur, glitter and gaudiness.”

“Garish?”

“Definitely so, as if to rub my nose in it all.”

“But you knew her too well.”

“Goes without saying, my dear. By the end of the year, young Fuchsia was expecting her first child . . .”

“King Simeon.”

“Yes,” the Bandersnatch sighed. He would never get accustomed to Eluned’s constant interruptions. “. . . and chomping at the bit the whole while. The child was barely weaned before she was beseeching me to rescue her, to ‘take her away from it all’.”

The Princess laughed, a pleasant sound like the comfortable burbling of a brook, “she didn’t last very long, did she?”

“Fortunately, she did manage to accomplish the one adjunct expected of her—she bore the king an heir, a male heir, which definitely improved her situation.”

“You mean it didn’t matter so much if she took off.”

“It was a great embarrassment to the king, of course, but the onus for the debacle . . . “

“I hate that word!”

“Debacle?”

“Onus. It makes me shudder. Would it bother you if I asked you not to use it again in my presence?”

“What?” He sputtered. Trust Eluned to disrupt a story by objecting to the use of a word, a rather common one at that.

“It’s just that that word gives me the creeps.”

“The creeps?”

“You know very well what I mean. Can’t you use burden instead of onus. Ack, I don’t even like saying it!”

“Perhaps it is too close to sounding like anus.”

“I don’t mind the word anus. I just don’t like, you know, that word I don’t want to say.”

“Then I will rephrase the entire sentence. After all, my dear Princess, I am your servant.”

“My friend. Not my servant. You’d make a lousy servant. You can’t button buttons or bring me breakfast in bed. You can’t even make a bed.”

“A figure of speech, that’s all. What I meant was that your wish is my command, so to speak. Does that make you happy? Don’t take things so literally—it could get you into serious trouble.”

“Anyway, who was the burden on?”

“Fuchsia’s people were blamed for her indiscretion . . .”

“That’s a nice way of putting it!”

“If they hadn’t lived beyond the Devastation, they would have been sent there.”

“Will we pass through The Devastation on our journey?”

“No one passes through The Devastation. You know that.”

“But you can do all kinds of magical things.”

“Limited telepathy and the ability to speak are about the extent of my so-called magical powers.”

“You’re immortal,” she said, and shivered for she had the strangest sense of déjà vu, well not exactly déjà vu, more like prescience. She shook her head as if to clear it of the fog that was creeping through it, hiding thoughts, exposing others.

Jabberwock looked at her, oddly. “That hardly makes me a ledgerdemainist, a thaumaturge, a magus.”

“Great,” sighed Eluned, “I am on the adventure of a lifetime with a four-legged thesaurus.”

“Besides,” the Bandersnatch sniffed, feigning hurt, “The Devastation is to the west, beyond the Plains of Naphtali and the Sea of Blood. We’re currently traveling east. The sun is directly to our backs. You know that.”

Eluned felt the hairs rise at the back of her neck. She had often wheedled her nurse into telling her stories of the Sea of Blood upon whose shores the Aberrations of The Devastation dwelt. Absolutely nothing existed in The Devastation, the former Kingdom of Pelf. Not even the most loathsome, abominable and vile creatures that inhabited the furthest borders between the Sea of Blood and The Devastation. “It’s probably just as well,” she whispered, eyes wide with fear. “I am not sure I want that much adventure.”

“I ventured that way, myself, once, but that’s another story and we’ll have plenty of time for stories but right now I would like to finish the story I began hours ago.”

“It hasn’t been hours. You certainly love to pout!”

“No more than you, my dear.”

“Yes, but I am a princess. It just seems a bit unseemly for a Bandersnatch.”

“And how would you know what is seemly for a Bandersnatch and what is not? I don’t have to remind you that I am the only Bandersnatch in existence. I make my own rules. I determine my own actions.”

“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before.” Eluned laughed and bent down to ruffle his coarse fur, paused to scratch behind his long ears. “You’re absolutely right! So, you and Fuchsia departed the Kingdom of Zion, sneaking out in the dead of night?”

“It was dawn, and I dislike the word, sneak, but yes, that’s what we did.”

“I’m surprised my father let me go with you, then.”

“So am I. I am actually quite amazed that Brother Columcille and I were able to convince him of the necessity of your leaving. Anyway, when we had first arrived in Zion, Fuchsia and I parted ways at the forest.”

“And she’d visit you there during the day?”

“Never as often as you and I met.”

“But she did when she was young, did she not? When you lived in the Wilds of Discord?”

“Yes, that’s true. We’re about three miles from our lodgings.”

“That gives you another hour to finish the story.”

“You’ve made me lose my train of thought,” Jabberwock groused. “All these interruptions.”

“Complain, complain, complain.”

He sighed. “We maintained our relationship through the birth of her son and his weaning, and then began making plans to leave. She wanted to head back toward Bramble, and we eventually arrived in Zapple,” the Bandersnatch paused, sure that Eluned would interrupt. After all, Zapple was notorious; often compared to Sodom and Gomorrah. She disappointed him. “There Fuchsia became quite the star on the Zenon Strip.”

“Star?” The Princess was perplexed. A star? On the Zenon Strip? Did they go to another galaxy?

Jabberwock began to chortle in his wheezy, rasping way.

“What? What?” Eluned was blushing. “All right. I give up. I’ve heard of Zapple but the Zenon Strip? A star? What are you talking about?”

“Basically, Fuchsia became an actress, not unlike the mummers that perform at the castle. The Zenon Strip is the district in Zapple where the actors and actresses perform. When you have a successful career in the theater, you become a star.”

Eluned was horrified at the thought of her great-grandmother sinking so low as to perform for money, but was intrigued by the concept of becoming a star. It sounded so brilliant. “Why is it called a star?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps because they are self-luminous or maybe because they are full of hot air. Or, perhaps, because they are the featured performer and their name was once marked with an asterisk.”

“Maybe it’s because an excellent performance is rewarded with a star,” Eluned mused, “or maybe, it’s because . . .”

“Does it really matter?” It was Jabberwock’s turn to interrupt. “Suffice to say that she did become a star. Not surprising, really, she always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“Did you really save her from a dragon?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I heard talk. Besides, what about the fairy tale you told me on the first day we met?”

“Gossiping, you mean. It wasn’t an actual dragon. It was an abomination, a nameless monstrosity from the borders of The Devastation, seeking fresh meat. It had wandered too far into the Wilds.”

“She was outside the castle walls?”

“She never obeyed her parents.”

How romantic, Eluned sighed. For years and years she had been longing for similar adventures. Perhaps, at last . . .

“Are we on our way to meet her?” The Princess asked. “I can’t wait!”

“Darling, you’re grasp of geography is dismaying, and I know better. Please use that pretty little head instead of just your emotions!” Then the Bandersnatch added, gently, “Fuchsia died the day I met you.”

Eluned’s face fell, tears once again pricked her eyes. She had already developed a strong bond of feeling, of kinship, even love for this woman, a woman so like herself. “So why are you doing this again?”

“Because when you were born, we both agreed that you would have the same opportunities that she had had, but that you wouldn’t have to make the same mistake that she had made.”

“You mean marrying against her will?”

“She didn’t want you to marry and give birth to a child that you would never see again. You are so much like her, even when you were young. I suppose that is what eventually killed her—not being able to watch her son grow, marry, have his own children and grandchildren. She didn’t want you to have to make the same, horrible choice.”

They hiked on in silence.

“Thank you,” Eluned broke the silence, half an hour and a hundred yards from their lodgings later.

“For what?” Jabberwock’s eyes reflected the serious fjord green of Eluned’s own.

“For rescuing me from the dragon.”

Abaddon V

“So, what did he give you?” Jabberwock indicated the clumsily wrapped package clutched in Eluned’s left hand. They were walking, had been walking for hours, side by side, down the great road that led out of King Seraphim’s castle and into the largely cultivated lands that surrounded it. Mostly groves and groves of fruit trees—plums, pears and cherries—that in a few months would be covered with a fairyland of blossoms.

The Princess stopped, dropped her satchel on the hard pack, and ripped and shredded the gossamer tissue of the package her father had pressed into her hand as she fled her home of eighteen years.

Her fingers, stiff from hours of gripping the small box, fumbled at the lid. Throwing her head back, she took a deep breath and tried again. She could already feel the tears stinging behind her eyes. Why did she have to cry so much? The ornate ring and stone nestled on a bed of purple velvet inside the box broke the dam. She could barely see the ring’s design through her flood of tears. She swiped them angrily away so that she could study the contents of the small container. Like her valise, the golden ring abounded in mythical creatures: a miniscule knight battled a dragon, lovely maiden at its clawed and horny feet; a beautiful virgin (for only virgins can see unicorns) embraced the one-horned creature beneath the mourning boughs of a weeping willow; and, what was this? The Bandersnatch?! Sitting upon a rock in the middle of a forest in apparent discussion with a young princess clutching a golden ball to her flat chest?

She looked at Jabberwock in awe. He looked rather nonplussed, himself. Maybe puzzled was a better word.

“Are you not going to read the note?” he asked, impatiently. She picked up the box at her feet, retrieved the thrice-folded parchment.

My dearest daughter,
It breaks my aging heart to see you leave these walls to seek the mostly cruel wonders of the outside world. I have long teased your mother, and in your presence, that you get your ways—passion deeply felt and hunger for adventure—from her side of the family. But that has never been true. I have always known well from whence came those generally unacceptable characteristics. My grandmother fled these very walls in the company of your little pet, leaving her husband and son to fend for themselves. I had this very special ring (it has been in the family for centuries) engraved especially for you. A plain gold band didn’t seem appropriate. I am sure the gods won’t mind. Be careful my darling, and remember that we love you, as your mother no doubt told you, desperately.
Your loving father


Eluned’s head was reeling. Her great-grandmother (she’d heard the whispers—it was a forbidden subject in the castle) had known the Bandersnatch, had headed off on a similar adventure?

“What, where, wh…,” she sputtered.

“Pull yourself together,” Jabberwock replied, crossly. Count on the king to be the first one to throw a monkey wrench into his journey, although no doubt she had a right to know.

The Princess closed her eyes and took a deep, imperial, breath. She raised her head on its long, delicate neck and peered, aristocratically, down at the Bandersnatch. “I think you have some explaining to do.” A storm raged in her regal eyes, pearly teeth clutched sovereign lower lip in suppressed wrath.

Never piss off a princess.

Plopping herself down in the middle of the road, Eluned crossed her legs and waited.

“Well, we’re off to a mighty good start,” Jabberwock drawled.

The Princess stared at him, perplexed. Where the hell had that come from? Her lips thinned and lightning flashed in her eyes. “Cut the crap,” she returned, tartly. She had read the line in a book she had discovered hidden beneath the floorboards in the storage space beneath her window seat in her bedroom. It had her great-grandmother’s flowing script:

This book is the property of Queen Fuchsia of Zion

A script that did not look dissimilar to her father’s. She had read the book a dozen times since she had discovered it. She had found it whilst looking for her own secret hiding place. It was a book of adventure, of mythical beasts and fearsome dragons and knights in shining armor. It had always filled her with excitement. It spoke of other worlds and other ways of living. At any rate, her reply was enough to catch the Bandersnatch off guard. He surveyed her for a second, with an odd expression on his furry face, and then sighed, and lowered himself to the pavement, front legs crossed before him.

“Are you ready?” Eluned asked, honey voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Quite so, your highness,” Jabberwock replied, his own eyes sparking with annoyance. “We’ll be lucky if we make tonight’s lodgings,” he muttered under his dog breath.

“What?”

The Bandersnatch scratched, absently, behind his long, pointed ear. The left one. The Princess was growing impatient and frustrated. If she didn’t need Jabberwock to make it, make it, wherever the hell it was they were going, she’d leave him right now.

“It was long ago and far away,” the Bandersnatch began his tale.

“And the world was younger than today . . .” Eluned interrupted. She had heard him start more than one fairy tale this way.

Jabberwock glared at her. “Would you like me to recount the story or not?”

The Princess sighed and rolled her eyes. “Pray, please continue, kind sir.”

“Patience is definitely not one of your virtues, my dear.” The Bandersnatch grinned (or was he growling?).

Eluned studied the scuffed toes of her boots, concentrated on stilling her wildly beating heart. Did it really matter that she was following in her great-grandmother’s footsteps? And what about her great-grandmother’s great-grandmother? Had she, too, skipped along this wide, white, track, Jabberwock at her young side? She was her parent’s only child. What did that mean for the Kingdom of Zion? If she had to marry Uriel, then who would rule Zion when her father and mother were gone? Would the two kingdoms join or would they rule them jointly? Would she be able to produce another heir to the throne, or thrones, for that matter? She was actually the current heir to the throne. Queen Eluned. Why was nothing ever simple? This was an aspect of her adventures that she had never considered; that would now constantly tickle at the back of her mind.

“But I’m young,” she whispered to the Bandersnatch. “There’s lots of time, right?”

“Plenty of time,” he replied. “Do you still want to hear about your great-grandmother?”

“Of course.” She stood up, stretching. “But, we shouldn’t be wasting time sitting here.” She looked at him as if it had all been his idea. “You can tell me while we’re walking. If we don’t get a move on, we might not make tonight’s lodgings.”

Jabberwock was forced to suppress a smile. Had he really expected her to grow up overnight?

“Oh, and what’s this?” She had slipped the golden ring onto the ring finger of her right hand where it seemed to fit perfectly. But, as she returned the note to the box, she noticed the stone again. She carefully picked it up and studied the gently glowing stone. “Moonstone?”

“I believe so,” Jabberwock agreed. The stone had the pearly glow of a full moon. Mysteries and their answers seemed to swim in its depths. Despite the fact it was no bigger than the smallest coin of the realm, it was nearly hypnotizing. Jabberwock cleared his throat.

“Why did he give me this?” Eluned’s brow creased in perplexity.

to be continued...

Abaddon IV

IV

So, tomorrow she would celebrate her eighteenth birthday. She didn’t even know what to expect on the day’s dawning. She knew her anticipation of the event was nearly more than she could bear, but not because of the normal associations made with birth days but because of what the date promised—freedom. It was less than twelve hours until dawn and officially her birthday and the wait seemed interminable.

She stared out the leaded glass of her bedroom window, high in the turret of the east tower. She could just see the snow-capped peaks of the mountains over the castle wall. Tomorrow, she shivered, she might be lodging beneath their slopes.

Jabberwock had hinted at another world—a world which reflected fear and worry in his glass eyes. But, if that were so, then why was he so determined to show it to her? Surely her father’s world, outside the castle walls, would have been enough to satisfy her curiosity? But the Bandersnatch knew her better than she knew herself; at least, that was how she felt most of the time. She sighed again. She must trust him completely. If it hadn’t been for the strange little creature she would soon be married off to King Uriel and she would have to spend the rest of her life bound within the walls of yet another castle. And, she doubted she’d find a friend comparable to Jabberwock in its woods.

Stretching, she vacated her window seat, unconsciously smoothing the pleats of her soft flannel skirt. Catching a glimpse of huge eyes and creased brow in the gilt-framed mirror that occupied a far corner of her tower room, Eluned turned to survey herself. What would people see when they met her? Her long, white throat curved toward a well-defined, slightly cleft chin. High cheekbones accented her oval face. Skin as white as fine alabaster, hair as dark as obsidian, and eyes as liquid green as a coral sea reflected back at her.

Untying the black velvet ribbon that unsuccessfully attempted to control hair savage with curls, Eluned experimented with different styles, piling the corkscrews atop her small head, letting it hang, barbaric, around her face. She liked it like that. It made her feel untamed and gypsy-like, primitive and savage. She wanted to strip down and dance nearly naked around a fire. She wanted to meet an equally wild-eyed man. She wanted too much. A fine spray of tears misted from the ocean of her eyes. It was hopeless. Her expectations for the rest of her life were too high. Tomorrow would never come.


But, tomorrow always arrives and this Wednesday morning dawned pink, orange and purple around the mountains to the east. The Princess had barely slept the night before and was up, goose down comforter wrapped around her slender shoulders, to watch the sky lighten from velvety black to deep purple and blue. Eluned waited with trepidation and anticipation for the appearance of the sun. She longed to feel its warmth against her face; to finally experience the freedom it would bring as it summoned the new day. She wondered where she and the Bandersnatch would go first. Some place warm, she hoped, for she lived in a mostly cold land and was born in an always cold and snowy month. She hated being cold and during the long winters it sometimes seemed as if the sun had deserted her father’s kingdom permanently.

The sun crested behind the mountains reflecting shimmery gold light into her eyes. She blinked, lifting her face to the light; shivered with delight, throwing the comforter onto the floor. She always made her bed but never again, not here, anyway! She bit her lip. On second thought, was that really the impression she wanted to leave behind. She bent over and picked up the crumpled duvet, placing it back on her bed and smoothing it out. She even picked up her pillow, re-lumped it, and reclined her stuffed unicorn against it. She was going to miss her little Eira. There had been countless times in the past 18 years when she had hugged the doll to her chest as she fell asleep; she had cried many tears into its soft fabric as well . . .

It was time to pack. The Princess had saved this final act of preparation for the very last moment because Jabberwock had told her she could bring little more than what she was wearing. A medium-sized tapestry bag would have to suffice for she would have to carry it, herself. Gazing, reflectively, into the depths of her closet, she wondered what to bring. They would just have to go someplace warm. That was all there was to it. She couldn’t possibly carry all the clothes she would need to keep warm. Eluned decided she would wear her wool cloak to begin with and toss it whenever they reached the warm place, a desert, most definitely. She would ask him to take her to a desert.

White, then. The choice of color wasn’t difficult. She wore white in the spring and summer, black in the fall and winter. She would carry white, wear black. Long skirts and dresses were all that were worn by women in her father’s kingdom. She had often wondered what it would be like to wear pants. She wondered now what people wore in the desert, what kind of clothes they wore in the world they would be exploring. Would she stand out? Would people look at her and laugh? Would it be obvious that she was had led an amazingly sheltered life?

Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs that were obscuring her thoughts, she donned her favorite blouse and skirt, reined in her hair with a lace ribbon. Sprawled coltish on the floor, she pulled on thick wool socks. Shoes were tossed overhead and on to the marble floor behind her as she scoured the armoire for appropriate footwear. Ah! She pulled soft leather boots over delicately arched feet and lean calves.

Nightshirt, toothbrush and other necessary items were tossed into the tapestry satchel on which virgins and unicorns danced through an enchanted forest. She was ready to go. She was shaking. Her heart felt as if it were racing. When would the Bandersnatch be announced? Where in creation was he?

Pacing the pink marble floor, kicking throw rugs impatiently aside as they got in her way, she wondered if she could stand waiting another minute, even another second.

A gentle knock at her door. Her heart stopped.

It was her mother. Tears coursed down her royal cheeks. The Princess, uncharacteristically, threw herself into her mother’s arms.

“I wish you didn’t feel as if you must embark on this . . . this folly,” her mother whispered, holding her only child close to her breaking heart.

“Mother, we’ve discussed this!” Eluned cried, petulantly. “Please don’t try to stop me. Not now! Not so close . . .”

She heard the commotion downstairs and stiffened. Jabberwock must have arrived. Her mother slowly distanced herself from her daughter and, almost as an afterthought, kissed Eluned gently on the lips.

“I know I haven’t told you often enough,” she sighed, patting the tears from her cheeks with a silk handkerchief, “but I love you, desperately.”

Tears made a journey of their own down the rose-dappled cheeks of the princess. “I will miss you, Mother,” she whispered. “Both you and Father, but mostly you.” Grabbing her colorful valise, the Princess flew out of her room and down the winding stairs, disdaining to look back at her chamber, her mother. She didn’t want to stay. She must away. She must!

But, it wasn’t going to be quite that easy. At the bottom of the stairs, the King and Brother Columcille and the Bandersnatch watched her descent.

“A word before you leave,” her father said, quietly. His eyes were brighter than usual.

“Yes, Sir.” The King led the way to the sitting room and they settled themselves. The Princess was anxious to leave, but it was clear that her father was not in a hurry. She grudgingly accepted a cup of coffee and allowed the maid to stir some cream into the porcelain mug decorated with the Kingdom’s heraldic symbols. She stared into the tawny liquid and waited for her father to say whatever it was he felt he had to say, mentally rolling her eyes.

“I am not really sure how to begin,” he started, cleared his throat. “I would imagine that you are aware that your mother and I are not thrilled with the prospect of this so-called, uh, journey.” He was silent a moment, heaved a sigh and began again, “But, Brother Columcille and Jabberwock, here, have convinced us that it is of utmost importance that you be allowed this chance; that it is essential to your growth in The Way. And, so, you shall go. BUT, and this is a very strong and absolutely essential “But.” You must be back at this castle by your 21st birthday. You will marry King Uriel. The date has been set and will not be moved. Do you understand?”

Eluned’s eyes echoed with mutiny, but she inclined her head and murmured, “Yes, Sir.”

to be continued tomorrow...

Abaddon III

III

So once again Jabberwock bided his time—as he had for seconds, minutes, and hours. As the days had become months, the months, seasons, and the seasons, years; as the tide turned and the earth revolved on its axis, he and the princess had become increasingly dependent on each other and waited . . . for until her eighteenth birthday, Eluned’s parents would not allow her to leave the kingdom.

And, the more patient Jabberwock became, the more Eluned champed at the bit, so to speak. For as much as Eluned longed to discover the world, Jabberwock was going to miss their clearing with its occasional fairy ring and the company of an innocent, if strong-willed, child who visited him whenever possible. He knew also that the world is cruel and that it wouldn’t be long before the innocence in Eluned’s eyes was snuffed out as easily as the flame of a candle.

He dreaded introducing her to the world of pain and fear outside the kingdom. He couldn’t be completely sure that her tender psyche would escape unscathed. Scars were sure to form each time her heart was truly broken. And the fear, distrust, hate, gluttony, greed and all the terrible things that existed only in a minor sense in this protected world of hers would hit her like a hurricane out there.

If she couldn’t withstand it, he would regret it for the rest of his life and that would be a mighty long time. But destiny (and a certain Someone) had them meet, and time, that ever-so-precious commodity (and something Eluned, herself, had countless times in the past and would countless times in the future meditate on) would tell.

The question was, of course, how much of life should she, could she, experience without crossing fine lines, unwritten boundaries? Questions floated in and out of the Bandersnatch’s musings. How much must one push oneself to really live? Was not a quiet, peaceful existence enough? Yes, he answered himself, for some. King Seraphim and Queen Ceridwen seemed perfectly content whereas the Princess Eluned felt imprisoned by the borders of this tiny kingdom. She was ready to slip from her bonds of captivity, to soar like the wild birds she so admired above the walls of the castle, above the highest trees, wheeling higher and higher, to touch the clouds, the stars, if possible.

How much should she be allowed to savor, if in fact, he could control (even to a minute degree) her destiny? It was a complicated task he’d undertaken but one he felt bound to fulfill. After all, was there really a choice?

He heard her voice calling his name, huskier now at the age of seventeen (practically eighteen), more dovelike and mournful in its essence. Gone was the carefree nightingale. Here now, rushing into the glade as if it might disappear before her liquid eyes, appeared a woman both exquisitely beautiful and innocent; a woman so impatient to begin a journey, an adventure, that she could barely contain herself. It appeared to Jabberwock as if she might sprout great white wings at any moment and soar over the walls of the castle and over the boundaries of the Kingdom to begin a journey that would end . . . well, even the Bandersnatch did not know how it might end.

to be continued tomorrow...

Abaddon II

II

“Now, you’re sure this is going to work?” King Uriel and Jabberwock the Bandersnatch were standing next to each other, surveying a map spread out upon the table in front of them. Well, actually, the king was standing upon the tiled floor; Jabberwock was actually on the table itself.

“Of course,” the Bandersnatch replied.

“Well, if it doesn’t,” Uriel groused, “then there is absolutely no way in the universe she’ll marry me, despite the fact we’re betrothed.”

“Uriel, I have known Eluned for eleven years; seen and conversed with her nearly every day for the past eleven years, I might add. We agreed when you were a mere child that refusing to meet her would alone instill you with some mystery. Not actually showing up for the betrothal ceremony just sealed that. I know the Princess. She thrives on adventure, mystery. If she meets you when you’re not ‘you,’ she’s guaranteed to fall in love with you, just as we have always planned.

“Guaranteed, hmm? I don’t actually see how you can guarantee that, but at this point I am willing to take your word for it.”

Jabberwock rolled his eyes and bared his crooked teeth. “Eluned’s eighteenth birthday is in just a few days . . .”

“Fine, fine,” Uriel grimaced, “let’s get on with it.”

“Now this is what I expect you to do . . .”


The sun was breaking over the horizon when the tip-tap of Jabberwock’s claws were heard leaving Uriel’s palace behind. After years in the making, it seemed as if all their planning might finally come to fruition. The real question was, of course, would the Princess actually fall in love with Uriel or was she, perhaps, hiding facets of herself from the Bandersnatch. It was never beyond reason that a monkey wrench might be thrown into their plans; but should that happen could they overcome it? In his heart, Jabberwock knew that love would win but what might intercede? If the Bandersnatch had learned anything in his eternity of a lifetime, he had learned that you cannot completely predict the future. Free will, importunate circumstance . . . hang it all . . . chaos theory. It reigned freely, much to his disgust. Wasn’t he a living memorial to chaos theory? Sure, at this point, all had gone according to plan but the princess was still confined to her father’s kingdom.

Uriel, a trifle older than the princess, had already escaped the bounds of his kingdom (his father had died when he was thirteen and he had reigned with the help of his Protectors until he was eighteen. Fortunately, during those five years, Uriel was of such strong mind that he was not taken advantage of, although there had been rumblings from other kingdoms, particularly from the Kingdom of Adam, which bordered his kingdom to the southeast. Those threats had died mysteriously quickly as far as Uriel and Jabberwock were concerned. They felt in their bones that a larger threat was looming on the horizon.

So, Uriel had spent the past three years visiting the Thirteen Kingdoms and continuing to educate his self, both politically and in the art of war (Though, personally, he despised the thought of war. Why couldn’t people just discuss things rationally; work things out that way?) The traveling had done him a world of good, and he felt he had a pretty clear view of where loyalties lay with the various rulers. Certainly, the Kingdom of Zion, ruled by Eluned’s father and mother, were his greatest allies. The fact that he had been betrothed to their daughter at such a young age and the recent “official” betrothal ceremony (which he had missed on purpose) were testament to the fact that the alliance was still strong. But, who else could they count on if it came to war? He was certain about the Kingdoms of Draconia, Favonia and Dyfed. But, the Kingdoms of Naphtali and Tarshish were apparently remaining neutral until pushed one way or the other. Unfortunately, King Arawn of Annewven and King Hamartia and Queen Foehn of Simoon were as strongly united as his Kingdom of Aden with Zion and not only did they wish to greatly increase the size of their kingdoms, but they had managed to pull the rulers of Dziron, Adam and Bramble into their evil schemes. How long would it be before they started attacking the non-allied kingdoms at their borders?

Regardless of the politics, Uriel had come to realize, at twenty-one, that Eluned was the one for him despite the fact that his father’s wishes to make a powerful alliance with King Seraphim had at first made him resent the princess. Those feelings had made it easy for Jabberwock to talk the prince into missing their betrothal ceremony not to mention his spurning actually meeting her. So Eluned thought the prince a milksop, so much the better.

Jabberwock recalled the final moments of his visit with Uriel. The Princess had no idea! And a good thing, too. He wasn’t sure how the Kingdom of Aden had ended up with the Mantle of Arthur. No doubt a bride from Annewven had brought it over the mountains in a past too dim for mortals to remember. He knew with absolute conviction that there was absolutely no way it had knowingly left that ever-evil kingdom. It was too great a treasure. One of the thirteen hallowed treasures, for that matter. The treasures, once confined to Annewven, were now scattered to the four winds. Jabberwock suspected that the majority remained in Annewven and Simoon, which had been linked for as long as he could remember—centuries and centuries.

On his 21st birthday, Uriel had finally been able to open the iron-bound and incredibly plain chest that had belonged to his father. He had imagined that it would contain family papers and maybe a last letter from his father reminding him of his duties as king (and of his love for his only son). But, what he had found when the chest creaked open was a slightly moth-eaten woolen cloak of an indeterminate color. Perhaps it had once been gray? As he had pulled it from the chest, the odor of cedar and sandalwood followed. He had held it up, questioningly, to Jabberwock.

“Put it on,” the Bandersnatch had commanded. Uriel had swung the soft wool around his shoulders.

“Fasten it.” An ornate breastpin of gold and in the shape of a dragon was attached to the cloak. Uriel had done as he was told.

“Now look in the mirror.” Uriel had turned to face the long mirror that was suspended from the marble wall in his father’s former bedchamber. The new king had yet to feel comfortable enough to take over the royal compartments—still too many memories of his mother, who had preceded his father in death by a year; Uriel was sure that his father’s death a year later was in part due to the loss of his beloved wife. Uriel had stared into the mirror for what seemed an eternity to Jabberwock.

“What do you see?” the Bandersnatch had finally barked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Is it . . .?” Uriel hadn’t been able to go on. He swallowed, hard, and tried again. “Is it the Mantle of Arthur?”

“Indeed.”

Uriel had chuckled. “Oh how I could have used this in the past three years! Talk about being a fly on the wall!”

“Well, it’s not too late,” Jabberwock had replied. “I have a strong feeling you will be needing it in the not-too-distant future.”

Uriel raised an eyebrow, “This is going to be more of a quest than a journey, I suspect.”

Jabberwock only smiled, mysteriously, in reply, and had suggested that the King return the cloak to its chest until he set out for the predetermined rendezvous point.

This very morning before he had left, Jabberwock had reminded him, “Please do not forget the cloak! I imagine it will come in handy in more ways than one. I have no doubt the King will be presenting Eluned with her treasure before we leave tomorrow. Unfortunately, she will have to discover what it does on her own.”

Uriel had raised an eyebrow, yet again, but this time more sardonically, as if he had little faith in that ever coming to pass.

“You’re still underestimating her!” Jabberwock had laughed.

“What was it the Apostle Thomas said? ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands’ . . . sorry, guess I am a Thomas.”

The princess. Jabberwock had felt his spirits beginning to lift while thinking of Uriel. But, Eluned. His spirits suddenly plummeted. She was perfect for Uriel. They complemented each other beautifully, and they hadn’t even met yet and they were both fighting it. And notwithstanding his eleven years of work with her, he had been unable to do anything with that will of hers. That strong will. Sometimes she did things just to irritate him. He knew it but could do nothing about it. And though he hated to admit it, well, he wasn’t perfect. There, he thought it.

“I’m not perfect!” He shouted to the barren hayfields on either side of him. He felt a slight weight lift from his heart. “I’m not PERFECT!” There. Well, he could just do the best he could do, by Omni. He was just His pawn after all. Well, he looked heavenward, maybe that was a bit harsh. But, the truth was, he could only do the best he could do.

“And that’s all I expect.” The words weren’t as much heard as felt.

“Yes, and we both know what happens to those like me.”

Silence. A chill breeze laden with the scent of impending rain ruffled his wiry gray fur.

to be continued tomorrow...

Abaddon I

Below is the opening of my novel in progress, Abaddon:

And for a long time yet, led by some wondrous power,
I am fated to journey hand in hand with my strange heroes
and to survey the surging immensity of life,
to survey it through the laughter that all can see
and through the tears unseen and unknown by anyone.
-Nicolai Gogol
Dead Souls

From there to here, from here to there,
Funny things are everywhere.
-Dr. Seuss
One Fish, Two Fish
Red Fish, Blue Fish

I

Jabberwock the Bandersnatch bided his time by pondering time. It was something he did quite often as it remained to him a mystery, a quandary, a perplexity—a concept that he continually tried to grasp and, which , just as his long, sharp, curved nails scratched its surface, would slip inexplicably, irrevocably and inexorably from his clasp. Kairos . . . chronos . . .

On this spring day in May, the perfume of wild flowers and the gentle sun on his head sent Jabberwock into one of his flights of fancy. And, today he meditated on time. Time flies when you’re having fun. Time is a great healer. What time is it? We have plenty of time. The hour is late. Time is short. If time is a continuous river then why does nearly everything age? After all, the moon continues to revolve around the earth as it revolves around the sun. It never changes its pattern. So why does anything age?

On the other hand, maybe time was and always had been. The moon had phases, and so, therefore, did the earth. Seasons changed, tides changed—everything broke down into smaller and smaller increments. Even time. The nanosecond! When on earth (or in the universe) would there be an all-consuming need to measure something by one-billionth of a second? The thought of that alone was enough to age you, Jabberwock considered with a grin. Nothing, it seemed, could exist in perpetuity.

Everything, even the very earth, aged. Except the Bandersnatch. He alone (or, at least at that moment, to the best of his knowledge) existed in defiance of time, of age, of realism. He was the very essence of surrealism. Even his eyes belied his reality, unreality. Never have eyes so pale nor so dark existed. Chameleon eyes changing with his thoughts, often reflecting his soul (aren’t eyes the mirror of, or the lamp, as the Messiah Christ said?) or his surroundings—the crystal clear water of a spring, the royal purple of violets, the heavenly green of grass . . .

So, Jabberwock bided his time—awaiting the arrival of the Princess Eluned, just as he had nearly every day for the past eleven years. Time had changed things. Golden balls had been tossed (though not indefinitely) aside for better, if not bigger, things; for far and perhaps lost horizons. The wise but mad John Ruskin said, “You may chisel a boy into shape, but you cannot hammer a girl into anything. She grows as a flower does.”

Jabberwock’s rose was beginning to bud. An exotic bloom existing on the edge of a most unusual forest, for it was the only forest that could claim a Bandersnatch as an inhabitant.

Eleven years. Eleven years since the Bandersnatch had first become acquainted with the princess. The Princess Eluned resided in a castle built of marble and quartz with a king and queen who had watched affectionately as their only child tossed a golden ball, not maliciously, into the forest. One day it had rolled silently across a carpet of moss softer and more richly green than the velvet cloak that swung from the Queen’s ivory shoulders . . . across the moss and into a clearing filled with flowers (none more lovely than the princess!) where it had bounced with a gentle dinggg! against a wonderful tabernacle of granite and quivered to a halt precisely in the center of a fairy ring of toadstools.

And, what could be more perfect for a child than to have her golden ball enchanted by fairies?

And this was how the young princess met the Bandersnatch. For, while standing in the center of the fairy ring, golden ball clasped in silky, plumpish, childish hands, eyes closed and imagining herself a fairy, Eluned had suddenly had the feeling she was being watched. Slowly, the thick-lashed eyes had trembled open and soon she was staring into a pair of sea green eyes every bit as deep and unfathomable as her own. For, of course, they were her own eyes reflected in the eyes of the Bandersnatch.

Her pouty lips, the color of which would make a rose blush, had parted in surprise, but not fear. The Princess was too self-contained, too independent to feel fear. Sorrow she felt deeply and often, but as protected as her father’s kingdom was, she had as yet no reason to experience fear. When she was older, she would yearn to discover all emotions but at the tender age of seven she did not realize there were a multitude, a legion, of emotions eager to clasp and caress, touch and tear, her heart.

“What are you?” she had finally spoken, and her voice had fallen like the song of a nightingale upon Jabberwock’s pointed and rather large ears. Jabberwock had smiled, revealing a formidable number of pointed and very crooked teeth.

The Princess had laughed and the Bandersnatch heard the songs of angels, “My what big teeth you have, Grandma.”

“A curse are these teeth,” a voice unexpectedly deep and rich as fresh-tilled earth had replied.

“No more a curse than my beauty.” Eluned was wise beyond her years—not unusual for an only and unspoiled child. For her parents, King Seraphim and Queen Ceridwen, agreed that their little princess should never be rejected by her peers on account of stinginess, greed, gluttony, jealousy or any other of the various personality flaws so often found in young princesses. Even so, it hurt them deeply that their tiny treasure reveled in sorrow. The death of a spider might send her to the depths of depression for days.

“She feels too much,” the Queen would say, placing her long and fragile hand over her heart.

“Must be from your side of the family.” The King would frown, but there was always a sparkle of mischief in his eyes for he knew full well it was his own grandmother reflected in his daughter’s sorrowful face.

The Bandersnatch had smiled again. He had heard of this little princess and her genuine love of everything natural. “Where are your friends?” he had asked, although he knew she had none.
“I have none.” She had replied seriously, lower lip caught between pearly white teeth, for this fact distressed her greatly.

“And why is that?”

“They’re afraid of me.”

“Afraid?”

“Of my beauty.” She had blushed and roses bloomed on her ivory cheeks.

“What about the Prince, Uriel?”

“Him especially! He won’t even deign to meet me.”

“That reminds me of a fairy tale,” Jabberwock had mused.

“Will you tell it to me?”

“Have a seat,” Jabberwock had invited her, indicating the fairy ring. The Princess crossed her legs and rested her chin upon the golden ball in her lap. The sun reflected a delightful gold into her complexion. Jabberwock, who was shaped rather like an oversize fox, had settled down, forepaws crossed.

“Do you suppose there really were dragons once?” Eluned had asked, hopefully, carelessly imprisoning a tendril of hair behind her ear.

“There are too many stories about the creatures for dragons not to have existed at some point. Don’t you agree?”

“And unicorns?”

“And mermaids.”

“What a wonderful time that must have been.”

“It’s easy to mourn the past,” Jabberwock had sighed.

“But it does no good,” Eluned had interjected. “I know. I know, but I see a long, boring life stretched ahead of me. I want . . .

“Knights in shining armor, dragons, unicorns and mermaids?”

“Yes,” she had nodded emphatically, raven curls bouncing around her shoulders.

“These creatures can disguise themselves,” he had warned. “Beware or you may miss them.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She had mused on this, simultaneously wondering where the fairies went during the day. She was sure they were nocturnal. She liked that word. Nocturnal. She had tried it, aloud.
“Oh, definitely nocturnal,” Jabberwock agreed.

“So, how will my knight in shining armor disguise himself?”

Jabberwock had revealed his ragged teeth in a grin so broad it split his face. His eyes, reflecting the deeper green of the forest before him, caught the sunlight and refracted into a thousand spikes of shimmering light. It was like the sun breaking from behind a cloud and setting a cool green pool ablaze with fire.

“You know.” She had stated.

“Let’s just say that I have a vague idea.”

“More than vague.”

Jabberwock had continued to grin; then he stretched, skinny little rear end and bushy bottle brush tail raised high in the air. “I believe it is time for your lessons with Brother Columcille?”

Eluned had sighed, but she stood and stretched as well, an innocent and intriguing stretch, almost cat like in its suppleness. “Will I see you again?”

“I should hope so,” he had replied.

to be continued tomorrow...