This is the second part of Bixby Quartertail, a series of speculative fiction written by Daniel Mullen set in the world of Loaerth & Feywyrd. Part One can be found here.
The travelers headed west from the small harbor town into the dense vegetation of the Island. Within minutes, the narrow path along which they traveled disappeared and the two humans relinquished their sense of direction and focused solely on the possum in front of them. Slipping through the underbrush, around moss-covered trees and under low-hanging vines, Bixby said not a single word, nor turned around for the better part of an hour.
“How much further?” asked Henry.
Bixby halted and bolted back toward the two foreigners. He hopped up and grabbed Henry by the collar, bringing his face within inches of his own. “Do not speak. This forest will devour you unless you close your mouth and tread lightly. It hates your kind… as much as I do.”
Speechless, Henry nodded as Bixby released the young man. Fielding let his half-drawn sword fall back into its scabbard.
“In half an hour we will rest and eat. At that point you may ask questions, but we must reach the clearing before we do so.” Bixby looked around, sniffed the air, and then resumed his trek through the thick, heavy forest. His pace increased to compensate for the momentary delay.
The young man looked at his traveling companion who gave him an understanding look. They chased after Bixby to prevent the Hodolu from losing them. Henry watched the possum effortlessly weave through the trees and wondered what the Hodolu Fairy within him looked like before it joined with the possum. How did the process work? He had heard of such creatures while studying in Loaerth, but had until that morning never met one.
The group soon came to their resting place, and Bixby sat on a smooth rock. Before the two humans could even sit down, their guide had opened his backpack and spread an enormous feast before himself. As Henry and Fielding watched in disgust, Bixby shoved handful after handful of fruits, vegetables and nuts into his munching mouth.
Henry broke the ice. “If you know where the Shard of Feywyrd is, why haven’t you gotten it and used its power to your own benefit?”
Bixby slowed his consumption rate considerably, though at no point did he actually stop eating. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Shard. It’s an ancient artifact clouded in rumor. I am completely content in my life and have no use of it. I think the only ones who would know how to use it are the Elves.” He let out a small grunt with the mention of elves.
“How did you come to know of its resting place?” queried Fielding.
“Its resting place?” asked Bixby. “You make it sound like a holy relic. It’s a sliver of shiny rock. And if you must know, I won knowledge of its ‘resting place’ in a game of cards. I deal in information, and I hoped at one point that information would prove profitable. Thanks to your 400 gold, that gamble paid off.”
“How much further until we’re there?” Henry’s spirits were not dampened in the least by the beast’s deferential treatment of the young man’s prize.
“Boy you have a lot of questions, eh? Impatient are we? Typical human. I want the shard now; we must expand our borders now; we must pierce the veil now!” Bixby mocked his human employers and quickly spun himself into a fit. He twitched for a moment on his rock and muttered incomprehensibly. His hatred of everything human was evident. “Wait here,” he ordered.
Once the Hodolu had disappeared into the trees, Fielding whispered to Henry, “Sire, I think we should abandon this quest. The possum is obviously unstable, and I fear for your safety.”
“We are close, Jackson, I can feel it. Besides, the trail back to the inn is lost to us. We are completely dependent on our friend there.”
Bixby returned and packed up his meal without saying a word. The two humans followed suit, then resumed their journey through the green, brilliant forest. After only a few minutes, the trees ended and before the party rose a modest hill composed of a smooth, gray rock. At its base was a tall, thin crevice into which Bixby dashed.
“We are here?” asked Henry, confused.
“I don’t like this,” warned Fielding.
The two drew their swords and walked slowly toward the opening.
“Enter,” called Bixby from the darkness. “Your reward awaits you.”
Fielding grabbed a dwarven coal-powered torch from his bag and lit it. There was a brief whirring sound as the torch warmed up. It glowed softly in the dark cave, and once their eyes had adjusted, the two companions lost their breath. Bixby stood in the corner opposite the humans, but towered over the pair, twice as tall as either of them.
“Thank you for the meal, a chance to quickly gain enough strength to attain my full potential,” Bixby said with a rare laugh.
“Sire!” called the escort. “Quickly, back out the opening!”
It was too late. Bixby leapt with a screech and swiped at the Prince’s protector. The torch hit the ground, as did the Prince’s lifetime mentor and friend’s lifeless body. “No!” cried out the Prince. “You pugnacious prick!” He lunged at the possum, swiping his sword violently through the air.
Bixby dodged the assault and rapped Lazlo on the back of the head, rendering him unconscious.
*
“What…what happened?” asked the Prince. He looked around, but the cave looked different. He had not noticed an altar before, but there it was in front of him.
“Have a good sleep, little fella?” came a voice from behind the Prince. He whirled around to see…himself. “Haha. Like looking in a mirror, huh?”
Prince Lazlo finally looked down at his hands, his feet, and chest. They were covered in short brown fur. He was a possum. He and Bixby had somehow switched bodies.
“Thanks to your idiocy and the Shard of Feywyrd, I now have your body and will repay your disgusting race for destroying our world. Don’t worry, I’ll say hello to your father for you…before I slit his throat.”
“You ba—“ His cursing was cut short by Bixby slamming the Prince in possum’s body down to the ground, then running the Shard of Feywyrd slowly across the furry neck before him. He watched in contentment until the gurgling and sputtering had ceased and the blood refused even to ooze from the lifeless body.
Bixby stood and wiped the blood from the makeshift blade on his former host body. He turned and set to work moving the heavy rocks from the opening of the cave.
*
The door to the inn swung wide and through it stepped a human in worn, dirty clothes. He breathed heavily, resting against the door until he had regained his strength, then strode confidently toward the bar.
The bartender stuttered, “Uh… sir, where… B-Bixby let you… ?”
“Thomas, it’s me,” said the human Bixby with a sly grin. “Fetch me my gold and call in a favor with someone at the docks. I need a ship. Tonight.”
The bartender shook his head and backed himself against the tall cupboard of mugs and dishes. “What?”
Bixby ran and hurdled the bar. With a dagger to the poor bartender’s face, he issued his orders again slowly as he pulled the blade down the man’s cheek, letting dark red blood bead up and run down like tears. Thomas whispered his consent and followed Bixby’s orders.
That night, Bixby would be on a ship. Its’ destination? Loaerth.
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