Storymania - Gazabelle's Last Spell by J Brian Chamberlin

Gazabelle's Last Spell (2)
J Brian Chamberlin

The streets were void of any life, it seemed once Gazabelle and Menna made their way out of the cottage and through several intersections that were normally so infested one could not see to the other side.
What a difference from yesterday, it is, Menna thought as she looked over her shoulder admiring the stillness of the town. She wore the dress as Gazabelle requested and watched as the wind gently held the material close to her body, constantly revealing her young thin frame. She thought hard on how she would thank Gaz for such a lovely gift, then decided there would be time for that later. She was going to the Coronation after all and other thoughts were playing heavily on her mind.
The erie quietness of the streets began to fade as voices of young and old could be heard from somewhere up ahead. The actual crowning of the Prince was approching quickly, as soon as the sun marked it’s high point in the afternoon. Menna wondered why they had gotten such a late start but fell short on words every time she readied herself to question Gaz. He was certainly in a strange mood and looked terribly tired as well. The previous evening, whatever he was doing, had taken a terrible toll upon him. Instead of baggering him about his motives or reasons, Menna simply placed her thin arm around Gaz’s and enjoyed the rare quiet walk through the town.
Gazabelle and Menna mingled in with the rest of the townspeople without incident, pointed hat and all. Most were either too occupied with their view of the soon to be King, or busy fending off would be pick pokets. The smell of ale and spiced cider lingered heavily in the autum air as a good number of the towns finest were already intoxicated having started drinking the various brews much earlier in the day. Several structures were raised giving those who desired a platform for speaking. While some recited poetry, many chose songs and some even told tales of one kind or another. Either way, praise for the soon to be King was the common theme of the day and not in any short supply.
Menna was taking in the celebration and felt the slight pull of her sleeve. She turned quickly expecting to slap a thief across his face but found Gaz on the other end, gently guiding her towards one of the main platforms.
“You can’t be serious,” Menna cried looking up at the structure. “ The Prince wants nothing to do with you. Nothing!” Afraid of making a scene, Menna allowed Gaz to guide her through the dense crowd and to the short line which led to a tall platform.
“I wish to make an announcement,” Gaz replied calmly. He was squinting in the bright sun and it appeared as if his heavy wrinkles had finally won their battle and closed his lids completely. He forced a reasuring smile and gently rested a hand on Menna’s shoulder. “Everything will be fine, my dear. I promise.”
It was here that Gazabelle waited patiently and Menna paced back and forth, her mind in turmoil over what Gaz was going to say or do. Oh he’s going to end up in the dungeons, he is, she thought biting down on a finger. And I’ll be forced to live in these cursed streets.
Finally horns blew and cheers erupted. The Prince was coming forth to show off his new crown. Few really knew what little regard he had for the royal jewels that had been passed down for centuries. Gaz wondered if these people really cared. The Kingdom was falling apart. The days of old were long gone and the signs of corruption and greed were prolific. This new King was not fit to even look upon the crown much less wear the thing and yet here he was, adored and glorified by a society as equally disturbed as himself. Why Gaz hadn’t taken Menna away from this place before now was a distracting question he bagan to ask himself. His thoughts were interupted by more cheers from the intoxicated crowds. They began chanting the new Kings name and Gaz saw that King Horace was taking it all in, feeding off the power of the crowd with his horse like smile stretching from ear to miserable ear.
Arms reached out to touch the newly crowned King but were kept at bay by short spears and clubs wielded by the Kings all too eager guards. A station of archers were poised strategically around the guards as were several of the Kings personal protectors, those that were ready to jump in the way of a deadly blade if duty so required. Princess Pistella walked beside her brother the King, sulking and doing what she could to appear uninterested in the days ceremonies. The day was about her brother and not her so it had little significance as she was concerned. Princess Pistella, however, was the first to notice the old man with the pointy hat standing upon the platform, drawing much attention away from the King.
“Isn’t that the funny little wizard?” the Princess pointed to her brother with a fat finger.
King Horace tried to focus on the man he had met the day before and found he was too drunk to recall much about the meeting. He remembered sending him away and something about a claim of being a wizard. Ridiculous, the King thought trying to form the words together to bark off a command. He desperately did not want the old man ruining his fun.
“Shall I escort him away?”
“What? The King asked drunkenly, caught off guard deep in his own slow thoughts.
“Shall I escort him away, your Highness?” The guard waited patiently for a response from his new King but none followed.
King Horace observed what everyone else saw. The crowd thought the old man in the strange hat was part of the show. As angry as he was that someone else was the center of attention this day of days, the King saw the crowd was loving it. Shouts from the audience called for the Wizard to light the sky on fire. Others called for summoning a mystical dragon for the archers to shoot. Each request was followed by laughter and raised mugs.
“All this talk of Wizards and Dragons,” the King spat. “What kind of Kingdom did my Father leave me?”
“Shall I have one of the archers take him out now?” Asked one of the guards calmly.
“At my Coronation?” The King snapped. “Certainly not!” As quickly as his temper flared, he once again grew calm. You do have my permission to kill him once the ceremonies are over. Most of the wretched fools will be too drunk by then to care. Either way, he is not to live to see the moon rise. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sire.” The guard said with a smile. “Perfectly.”
King Horace was terribly tired after saying so much. He had enough drink in him that it was an effort simply not to slur. He decided to settle back in his chair and listen to what the foolish old man had to say. He motioned for his sister to sit by his side.

Gazabelle looked out across the mass of bodies before him and found that he felt no pity for the countless fools that filled the town this day. Everywhere he looked he saw filth and corruption, greed and ignorance. From the lowliest of merchants to the heir to the throne who was currently watching him from eyes too heavy with ale to look angry.
“Can I have your attention please,” Gaz hollered but the crowd could not hear. The noise was stifling, Gaz could hardly think his own thoughts clearly. “Again, I say. Can I have your attention?” Gaz tried again yet the crowed continued in their many chants and drunken songs. “I would like to Speak,” continued Gaz again to no avail.
The massive group fell silent in a giant hush that sounded like a wave washing over the crowd. Gaz turned to see the King had risen from his chair to silence the gathering. Gaz bowed in appreciation for the Kings interference who motioned for Gaz to continue as he took to his seat once again. A sleepy smile crossed the Kings horse like face which sent a slight chill up Gaz’s spine. The Kings archers looked a little too anxious for Gaz’s taste. I had better do this quickly, Gaz thought as he winked to Meena looking on from below the platform.
“I have an announcement,” Gaz started. Many in the crowd looked at one another, most simply searched for more ale to drink. Musicians took the opportunity to clean their instruments. “I have come,” continued Gazabelle, “to announce my retirement. As of the end of this day, I will no longer be town wizard.” Gazabelle let out a deep breath, folded his arms across his chest, and settled himself for the reaction of the crowd. It was a reaction that came quickly. One laugh became two and soon everyone was laughing and sharing their brew with one another.
Menna dodged several cups of ale as she realized the people thought Gaz was joking. She wondered why he felt the need to make such an announcement but came to the familiar conclusion that he had his reasons. She looked up to see a passive look across Gaz’s face. This was the reaction he had been expecting all the while. He even appeared to be smiling.
“I cannot believe his audacity,” The King said with a drunken laugh, the words barely making sense. “Who does he think he is?”
“A wizard I believe, your Highness.” replied the guard.
“I know that!” snapped King Horace “Are you thinking me a fool as well?”
“Of course not,” the guard replied sheepishly. “I mean no disrespect.”
“He’s making me a idiot,” The King was looking back at the old man who so captivated the crowd, his crowd. “I shall enjoy watching him see his own blood spill upon his feet.”
“Can you have the girl killed too?” Princess Pistella asked from beside the King. “I don’t like her,” she said plainly and without emotion.
“I will have killed who I wish, my little Sister. I am King and what I say is law.” With a stern look and a half rise from his chair, the crowd grew quiet once again. “Let’s see this played out.”
Gaz cleared his throat and unfolded his hands. “However, with the Kings permission, I would like to cast one final spell.” All eyes turned to King Horace who was caught off guard by the mentioning of his name.
“Why of course.” With this the crowd let out a cheer and gradually fell quiet once again. “They all think this is part of the show,” the King quietly said to his guards with a forced smile. “This had better be good.”
“Oh what are you doing, you old buzzard. You’ve not cast a spell in years, or so you say.” Menna nervously squeezed her hands. She found that she had climbed to the top step of the platform and was nearly eye level with Gazabelle’s foot from where she sat.
In a startling motion, Gaz threw his hands into the air silencing the crowd in a dramatic hush. The sleeves of his robes had fallen back revealing his aged flesh, a maze of wrinkles and flabby muscle, hardly impressive by their appearance. Being as close as she was, Meena was the first to see that these weak arms of an elderly man were actually alive with something more then blood and bone. She felt a chill cross her spine as the hairs of her neck began to stand on end. The air was crackling with energy, energy coming from Gazabelle the wizard. Menna even thought she could smell it, for a pungent odor had taken to the air. A violent wind began to stir and where once blue skies reached for as far as the eye could see, dark storm clouds that swirled in a mesmerizing dance upon the horizon threatened to drown the countryside in an horrific flood. Gaz began chanting in a foreign tongue and the magical wind carried his words to all ears near and far. As the wind increased it began to howl and screech and sound like a horde of angry demons hunting an elusive prey. The sound of it was deafening but yet all could hear the bizarre chanting clearly. As hard as she tried, the wind stole away her sound and carried it off into the abyss. She found she could not move and apparently others were making the same discovery. An expression of panic began to wash over the vile crowd and for the first time, the pitiful gathering truly looked terrified. What are you doing, Menna though.
King Horace’s head was spinning and as he fought the sensation, he too tried to focus on the twisted events taking place on the day of his coronation. What trickery is this? The King thought but learned he could not say. A hoax of sorts? Perhaps something in my drink. His temples began throbbing but as everyone else, the King found he was incapable of reaching them. He too was frozen to the spot and at the mercy of the strange man who called himself Gazabelle.
Princess Pistella was having similar concerns. The day had just gotten much more interesting and apparently at the expense of her brother and King. She too felt a wave of panic come over her when she realized that she too was rooted to the spot like a large oak tree. She scowled viciously at the girl named Menna knowing she must have had something to do with all of this. When it was over, she silently vowed to make the wretched girl pay for her part in it all.
The clouds thickened and darkened until the day appeared as night. Bone shuddering thunder exploded from all directions and lightning struck out of the void temporarily illuminating the surroundings. The flashes were so violent and bright that Menna lowered her head, shielding her eyes from their intensity. Others were unable to look away and momentarily, Menna thought she understood. Many began to cry out and what they saw Menna could only guess. Brilliant flashes of light danced about so brightly that Menna could see them through her closed eye lids. She desperately wanted to see what was going on, but she held her eyes shut firmly and tried to block out the screams of those around her. The wind increased and with it the noise until it pounded in her head like the thunder of the skies above. Menna wondered why she wasn’t as panicked as those around her and for that she was without an explanation. She had the sensation she was along for the ride but the magical display was not for her. Menna discovered her energy draining and the insatiable urge to rest. Her mind was slipping and a welcoming blanket of darkness that was being pulled over her. Her last conscious thought was that she saw stars as if the blanket was made of the night sky and for the briefest of moments, she thought she heard the sound of farm animals. Then Menna willingly slipped into nothingness as if dipping her head beneath the waters of a warm inviting pool.

Menna dreamt of being a bird. She soared high above the countryside and flapped her wings smoothly in the warmth of the sun. She arched her back, dipped her head forward, and dove towards the gently rolling hills of the east. Other birds soared around her and she could hear their songs mingle in the breeze. Menna wasn’t sure what kind of bird she was. Perhaps an eagle, she pondered as she shifted her weight and the angle of her wings to gracefully pull away from the earth and begin to ascend once more. The rush of the ground passing beneath her was exhilarating. Menna felt she could fly forever. It was on these pleasant thoughts she heard the sound of other fowl, a duck to be exact but none could be found as she surveyed the horizon with precise vision. She heard the faint sounds of other animals, a horse, a cow, chickens and geese, but nothing of the sort could she see. Only grass covered hills was beneath her. She began to panic and the shocking realization of the dream came to her with a jolt. Her wings were gone and Menna fell to the ground smashing through the earth with bone shattering force. Menna then woke up and greeted a new reality.

The darkness was gone but the light was hidden behind a shadowy haze. Meena tried to open her eyes and found it required a great deal of strength and focus, both of which she was in short supply. Her head was throbbing and a familiar smell seeped into her nostrils. The sky was clear and the sun was high but that was all Menna could make out of the haze she found herself in.. She could see movement before her and hear faint sounds, yet nothing was making sense. She thought focusing on one thing would be easier then many so she picked the largest object and forced her eyes fully open. It wasn’t long before the silhouette of Gazabelle’s pointed hat took shape.
Gaz was sitting on the very platform where he previously stood summoning the magical storm, his legs swinging off it’s edge, tapping a knee with his semi broken wand. Menna blinked several times and the image gradually became clearer. She pulled herself closer to Gazabelle, close enough to see he was smiling and laughing if only to himself.
“What have you done,” Menna whispered holding her eyes for fear that they might fall out of their sockets. She hadn’t felt like this since drinking a bottle of the old man’s spirits, a mistake she vowed never to repeat.
“I’ve started over,” Gaz said simply.
“Started over,” Menna repeated. “What kind of gibberish is that?”
“Take a look for yourself,” Gaz said motioning with a hand and a bow to the courtyard before them.
Menna shielded her eyes from the brightness of the sun and tried to see that which Gazabelle gestured towards so theatrically. Again she could see shapes and colors, but the images were taking longer to register in her over stressed mind. “I’m surprised the King hasn’t shot you himself by now, if he’s feeling half as bad as I am.” Menna said squinting. It was then she heard the sound of a cow, so close and so loud she nearly fell from the platform as she pulled away from it. She heard the unmistakable quack of several ducks and Menna nearly sprained her neck from glancing around her in a frenzy. The world around her was beginning to take shape as a well dressed pig frantically ran by her grunting as it waddled this way and that. The pink jewel encrusted dress that trailed behind it hung on for a moment or two and was then left behind to slowly sink in the dank mud. There were horses, chickens, sheep and goats. Donkeys, one in particular, that struggled to knock a crown of jewels off it’s head. It had gotten stuck around one of if it’s ears and Menna thought the poor beast would door serious damage to itself before much longer. Nonetheless, the strangely familiar looking donkey ran off in the same direction as it’s befuddled sister the pig speaking only in the language understood by other donkey’s.
“Please tell me you didn’t” Menna said bringing her hand to her mouth in shock. All about her, as far as the eye could see, animals of various kinds, shapes, and sizes were in a state of panic.
“I did,” Gaz said trying to contain his laughter.
“All of them?”
“Every single one,” he confirmed with a snort.
Gazabelle stood and offered a weary shoulder to Menna for support who was still quite shaken and looked as though she might fall at any moment. She was pacing the platform, none too steadily, as she surveyed the unthinkable sight before her.
“You’re upset with me,” Gaz said softly. A chicken ran between them and his words were nearly lost in it’s wild banter.
Pools began forming in Menna’s tired eyes and as Gaz came to comfort her, she waved him off and lowered her head. Gaz waited patiently for Menna to gather herself together, wondering if the girl would ever forgive him. They deserved it, he thought solemnly. I only hope she grows to understand that. He smiled quietly as Menna began to sob softly. The sobs became louder and quickly enough, Gaz realized it wasn’t crying after all, but laughter. Menna pulled her head up and tears of joy rolled down her smiling face, glistening in the light of the new sun.
“I’m not sad, I’m not,” Menna laughed. “I just can’t believe you would have done such a thing, especially without telling me.” Menna continued to giggle as familiar looking rooster waddled by in an uncomfortable strut.
“Well it was for your own protection,” Gaz answered as he admired his handy work. “But that is the end of my magic, I’m afraid. The wand is all used up and I shall be casting no more spells.”
There was a peace to the old man’s face that Menna had only seen in his untroubled sleep. “Whatever are you going to do?” Menna asked as she pushed away a persistent goat that was trying to eat part of her dress.
“I’m not sure,” Gaz replied thoughtfully. He paused and said with a wink, “perhaps I’ll become a farmer.”
Menna thought her sides would split she was laughing so hysterically. “Oh my,” she laughed some more and the harder she tried to straighten herself, the more she began to laugh and cry.
Her joy was contagious and Gaz found that he too was tearing up from so much laughter.
“What is so funny,” he asked between deep laborious breaths.
“I think you found it, Gaz.”
“Found what?” He was grabbing at his side.
“Your sense of humor,” Menna shouted. She felt dizzy from so much laughter and slapped Gazabelle hard on the back making his hat take a final tumble to the ground below. Gaz started to reach for it but the goat was faster and had run off with it’s new found meal.
“A farmer,” Menna repeated and the two began laughing again, the sound of it all drifting into the autumn air and already, the animals were forgetting who and what they once were.

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