User blog:The Dicer/The Shadow Jester

Prologue

''Salamandastron had been at siege from the corsairs for years upon years. The bravest and the mightiest from both ends had fallen, spies uncovered, plots revealed, as the war dragged on and on. Respite would not come; the corsair hordes were endless, but they could not breach the mountain. Finally, after twenty years of useless conflict, peace terms were agreed upon, and the war resolved. The leaders of the corsairs were invited to Salamandastron to feast and drink on the terms of peace; companionship had sprung up between the recent enemies, and hares and vermin alike found companions in the other sort. It was a day to be merry, a day of feasting and joy and happiness. Or so it would seem.''

The sun was setting, the feast almost over. A few minutes ago, the cooks had brought the last course, and then sat down themselves with the revelers for a chance to join in the party. All day the feast had lasted, as vermin clashed cups with hares with whom only a week ago they would have been clashing swords. Laughter and joy filled the halls of Salamandastron for the first time in twenty years, and yet something was not right to the Badger Lord’s bodyguard; Jack. He glanced over to his ruler, but as many, he was peacefully sleeping. Dozens across the room, both vermin and hares were as well; some passed out in a drunken stupor, others simply tired from the revelry.

Few remained in the main hall; most of the revelers had gone outside to watch the sunset. Jack could hear them, still boisterous, laughing loudly and telling jokes. He alone refrained from reveling or drinking, staying at his lord’s side like a faithful bodyguard should. Old and scarred, his muscles were still strong, and he could still fight as he could twenty years ago, before this war started. Jack supposed he should be glad to see the war over, and yet something was not right. Something was not right at all. The latest corsair warlord had not arrived, putting his issues on a bad stomach, but Jack wondered; perhaps this was some scheme?

Suddenly, a cough sounded, and Jack whirled around, paw dashing to the hilt of his sabre. Flinching away, the fox in front of him raised his paws to indicate he was harmless, and Jack relaxed. It was only the magician; the vermin had brought him along, saying he knew all sorts of tricks, and he had not disappointed, showing such expertise with sleight of hand even Jack thought it was magic. He was a black fox, clad in a blue cloak with golden stars that seemed to shimmer and dance. “My dear, dear friend Jack,” said the fox, in a soft, silky sweet tone, “I have heard much about you, and seen you on the battlefield. My friends, those still alive from meeting you, described you as a monster on the battlefield, laying out dozens in your efforts to protect your Badger Lord. Is this true?”

“It is,” cautiously replied Jack, “but why do you ask?” Smiling, the fox said, “Simply a conversation starter, my friend. It seems to have worked, as well, no?” For the next half an hour or so, they talked. The fox was an excellent conversing partner, waiting his turn to speak, laughing at the right times and adding jokes of his own, showing off magic tricks such as pulling sweets from the hare’s ear and giving them to him, and Jack slowly began to relax. He decided that his foreboding was simply caution from after the war; twenty years of fighting could make the mildest mouse paranoid, and Jack was never naïve or innocent.

Suddenly, the fox said, “Did you know? I’m not only a magician, but also a storyteller. I bet you I can make a story out of anything.” Grinning, Jack replied, “Well, go on then. Show me your silver tongue.” “Ah, but you must suggest a theme first. Perhaps cards?” “Cards it is, then.” As if by magic, a deck appeared in the fox’s hand, and he spread it out with both paws. “Pick a card; any card, any card at all, then set it on the table. I will tell you a story about it.”

Jack drew one at random, and laid it out on the table. “Ah, the mighty king of hearts. Ruling over his kingdom with wisdom and justice, all prosper under his rule, for he is fair and kind, and his realm is strong and mighty. Pick another card, another card, my dear friend; set it out as well.” Bemused, the hare drew another card, laying it down next to the king. “The Jack of Diamonds! A valiant warrior, the king’s most loyal companion, his eternal shadow, guarding the king from evil. A bodyguard, you could say; heroic, brave, and above all, endlessly loyal.” “I say,” interrupted the hare, “that sounds a lot like me, eh?” Smiling mysteriously, the fox murmured, “Another card, dear friend, another card.”

Outside, the conversation had grown quiet, the sun had set, the steady pounding of the waves a familiar and calming rhythm, the air absent of the roars of the siege engines that had always been there for twenty years. Inside, the room had emptied out completely save for them and the sleeping hares and vermin, and of course the badger. The fox’s cloak shimmered mysteriously in the flickering torchlight, the stars seeming to dance on his cloak. “Another card, my friend.”

Snapping back to reality, the hare drew a third card; the Ace of Spades. The fox grew silent, then began to whisper, so quietly that the hare had to lean forward to hear. “Ah… the Ace of Spades. A mysterious fellow, shifty, untrustworthy. Silent, in the dead of the night, he creeps toward… the king! He is no simple Ace, but an Aceassin!” Jack gave a dutiful chuckle at the joke. “But there is one, in this assassin’s way, one who has sworn to protect the king…” “…the Jack.”

Suddenly, all of the hare’s foreboding was back, and he glanced around wildly. Everything seemed normal, except… was that just a trick of the light? The magician was watching him, a half-smile around his lips, then, he continued, even quieter than before, the steady beat of the waves making the hare strain to hear. “He is in the palace now, the guards helpless to stop him; you cannot stop a shadow, can you? It creeps closer and closer, knife out, ready to stab the king…” Jack’s heart was pounding, sweat trickled down his face. He wildly looked up, and saw a shadow standing next to the king. He dashed up hand grabbing the hilt of his sword, but it was tangled up, and he cursed, trying desperately to untangle it.

“The jack leaps forward, trying to stop the Ace in time…” murmured the fox, as the hare got his sword out, “But wait!” cried the magician, throwing a card straight up, and the hare stopped dead. “It is nothing more than a trick of the light!” Indeed, the figure had disappeared, and Jack relaxed, sword dropping out of his shaking paws, heart wildly thumping. Then, everything happened in slow motion. As the card fell down, still vertically, a gleam of something metal shone in the hare’s eye, and the blade thudded into his neck, pinning the card down. He sat down with a thump, staring in disbelief at the magician, not even feeling the pain.

Sneering, the fox pulled the knife out of Jack’s neck, and the card fluttered down, to rest face-up, staring straight at the hare. It was the jack of diamonds, with a hole through its neck. “The distraction has worked,” murmured the fox, mockingly, “and the jack lies dead. The Ace makes its way to the king, and there is no one to stop him, my dear, dear, Jack of Diamonds.” The fox stood up with a scrape of his chair, slowly walking toward the Badger Lord. Jack’s last sight was the same knife that killed him sinking into the Badger Lord’s heart, and the gargantuan ruler falling to the ground with a thud, accompanied by the never-ending rhythm of the waves.