Mutants of Meridell

     Oris, an aged Lutari with tufts of white fur protruding from his ears, gulped audibly and took a half step back. They had figured it out. He knew the secret they were trying to protect, and now he was going to pay for his knowledge. Why? Because he had been, like many before him, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

     ***

     The day could have been better. It could also have been worse, of course, but Oris didn't care at that point. Mostly he was focused on just how dangerous a game he had found himself playing. Sure, he was in the King's good graces; Skarl had nearly soiled himself laughing over Oris' joke a few days prior, and had requested he become his full time jester. Of course, everyone who has trotted in noble circles knows that when a king makes a request, there is only one acceptable answer.

     While the king might be fond of Oris, there were two reasons this was possibly the worst thing that could have happened. Kings, just like everyone else, change their minds. Unlike everyone else, when a king changes his mind, it is not just the friendship he is destroying – it's the friend, too. And while the king's word was the law, it was only so if he decided to speak, and although the law might currently have been Oris' friend, the rest of the court certainly was not.

     There was no point running, no point hiding, no place that would be safe. And trying to escape would just put him in the king's bad graces for sure. Better to play the game and hope to lose a little later, than surrender and lose right away, for the game of kings creates only losers, and winning is only temporary.

     Oris' thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. The visitor didn't wait for an invitation, opening the door and entering. Podiver, a messenger of the king, stood imposingly in the door to Oris' tiny chambers.

     "King wants you," he said shortly, a smirk touching the corners of his mouth.

     Oh yes, he's amused. Jester is supposed to be a great honour, but really they're the lowest of the low, a morsel for the court to mock at. He's amused? Good, he thought. Jesters are supposed to be amusing, that meant he was doing his job well.

     He got up and bowed. "At your leisure, Lord Squire."

     The mocking amusement followed him down the passage, up two flights of steps, through two sets of double doors, and in to the king's antechamber. The king himself slouched on a gilt chair. It was not his throne - that was only used for formal occasions - but a family of peasants could have fed themselves sumptuously for years with the price that chair would fetch. Hmm, perhaps he could work in some joke about peasantry. The nobility always liked to scoff at the lower classes.

     "Master Oris, come." King Skarl did not look happy. Then again, he never did, and being greeted by name was more than most could have hope. The Lutari made a gracious bow to his king.

     "What does his majesty desire of me?"

     The king sighed heavily. "Do you sing? I should like to hear a jaunty tune."

     Oris paused. He sang, but whether or not he sang well was quite another matter. He did, however, know how to play a handful of tunes on a lute. He made his request to one of the king's attendants, who produced the instrument within a minute, and Oris settled down to play.

     He was half way through 'Babaa on the Roof' when the doors to the antechamber were thrown wide and a knight entered. He bowed awkwardly, stiff in his plate armour, and stayed bent until the king spoke.

     "Rise, Sir Enan, what is it?" the king asked, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

     "Your grace, I must beg your pardon, but there is an uproar in the city. The peasants are rioting." The knight, Sir Enan, looked as if he was preparing to bolt, probably to save his own neck should the king turn a foul mood at the news. Skarl scowled and thumped his fist on the arm of his chair, but made no move toward Enan.

     "They have clean water and plenty of bread, what else do they want?" he growled.

     "Forgive me, your grace, but they have made an accusation against the crown..." Enan gulped audibly.

     "What accusation is this?" the king asked, menace etching his words.

     "That..." the knight took a deep breath. He had charged into countless battles, fought fearsome beasts and done many brave deeds, but it was this task that took the most courage. "They have accused the crown – and yourself – of abducting citizens of the city for nefarious purposes unknown."

     It was lucky Sir Enan was quick on his feet.

     ***

     Oris returned to his room and would have flopped onto his bed, except that there was an intruder in his room with one leg already out the tiny window. Acting mostly in impulse, Oris leapt.

     There followed a scuffle. The intruder was revealed to be a member of the Kingsguard in shining armour. The Kyrii tried to get away, but his armour was heavy and made him cumbersome. Oris tried to pull him back into the room, but the Kyrii was stronger than he was, and shoved him to the floor.

     In a daze, Oris leapt to his feet. The Kyrii was struggling out the window, and after a loud series of clanks, slipped through.

     Should he follow? No, of course not, his life would be in danger! But then, why was a member of the kingsguard hiding in his room and trying to escape from a castle he was supposed to be protecting? Clearly, he had done something wrong. If Oris let him slip by, the king would be angry with him.

     The king is angry with you anyway, you should just stay and hope to weather the storm.

     But if I let the Kyrii go, he'll be even angrier with me. Either I stay here and be assured of a fairly painful punishment, or I go after him and I might get hurt, but I might not.

     You're being foolish. Just because you want to be a knight doesn't mean you're good at it.

     The king might honour me if I bring him a criminal ...

     Stop flattering yourself!

     In an instant, Oris bolted for the window and began his pursuit. The entire argument inside his head had taken up precious seconds, but the Kyrii was still just in sight racing for a door in the castle wall.

     There were no guards around this part of the castle, and the Kyrii slipped easily through the side door with Oris hot on his heels. It occurred to the Lutari that his quarry probably didn't know he was being pursued. Said quarry chose that moment to glance over his shoulder, and Oris just had time to dart around a corner. Seeing that he wasn't being followed, the Kyrii continued on at a brisk trot.

     Oris followed the imposter, and they walked for ten solid minutes through various alleys and tiny gaps between buildings. All the while, Oris ghosted the Kyrii with grim determination.

     Eventually the Kyrii paused outside a shabby building. He knocked gently on the door and glanced around. For what felt like the hundredth time, Oris ducked out of sight and waited. He didn't risk a peek, but he did hear the door open and a hushed conversation. When he heard the door close and footsteps retreat, he peered cautiously around and saw that the Kyrii had disappeared inside.

     Oris scooted around the building and found a pile of dustbins that led up to a window from which he could hear a slight murmur. He climbed carefully on top of the bins and strained his ear to hear.

     ***

     Haqar stepped into the warmth of the small house and shrugged off his cloak. A young boy helped him to unbuckle his armour and then scurried away with the great mass of metal plates clanking in his arms. The Kyrii looked around and breathed a sigh of relief, while the Ogrin who had let him in ushered him up the stairs and into a parlour.

     "How did it go?" the Ogrin asked as Haqar took his seat amidst a small group.

     "I was nearly caught," he said glumly. There was a collective intake of breath. One figure, cloaked and cowled, leaned forward slightly and put his finger on the table in front of him. "Speak," he commanded.

     "My Lord, I infiltrated the castle as you wished, but I was not able to stop Sir Enan from reaching the king. I had to escape quickly, so I found the nearest window inside the jester's room, but he returned before I could make good my escape. Forgive me, sir, he nearly prevented me from leaving. He chased me to one of the gatehouses and I presume he gave up then."

     "You presume?" a stern faced Gnorbu hissed. "What if your presumption is wrong!"

     "Hush, Tannis, it matters little now," said the hooded figure. Everyone fell silent at their leader's words. "The orb's work is near to completion, soon all of our guests will be sealed in their forms, and we will hide in the shadows no longer."

     Haqar made an awkward half-bow from where he sat, half acknowledgement, half apology, and his leader nodded his approval.

     "How are our guests?" asked the leader. From the shape of him, you might have guessed he was a Skeith.

     "The guests fare well, my lord," said Tannis, the Gnorbu. "The peasants think it was their king who stole them, no one suspects us, and soon no one will be able to recognize them. The transmogrification is almost complete."

     "Good," said the Skeith leader, and from the way his hood moved, it was clear he wore a smile. "Send someone to take care of the jester."

     ***

     Back inside the castle and outside the king's doors, Oris paced, his mind still reeling from what he had just heard. He knew the rumours about people going missing from the poorer parts of the city, but here he had found the real culprits. Inside his mind, a war raged.

     Tell the king.

     But he won't believe me! He'd just think I was mad.

     You want to be a knight? Knights always act with honour.

     Oh shut up.

     Coward.

     Oris bristled with indignation at the though. Him, a coward? He would prove himself wrong, he would go to the king right this instant.

     Except that the king is rip roaring mad and will probably have your head.

     Oh. That's right.

     Oris got a glimpse of the courage it took for Sir Enan to bring King Skarl bad news when he finally decided he would write the king a letter. That wouldn't be cowardly, would it? He turned and started walking toward his room.

     He didn't notice the small clanking sound as he closed the door, nor the footsteps as he picked up his quill.

     In fact, he didn't notice a thing until something cold brushed the back of his neck, and a deep voice rumbled, "don't move."

     He stood frozen like a statue. It was only when he was instructed to that he turned around very slowly and saw his tiny room full of pets dressed like knights of the kingsguard. Except that he knew they weren't.

     Okay, so there were two windows – both closed and locked – one door, and about a dozen burly pets with gleaming armour, pearly white cloaks, and long swords. They were also very sharp, long swords. In point of fact, the quill he still clutched in his paw looked blunt compared to the crisp, whetted edges of those- no, he must think, he must act... but for all his intellectual prowess, he couldn't turn his mind away from the way the light of his lamp danced and glittered on the burnished metal.

     Oris gulped audibly and took a half step back. They had figured it out. He knew the secret they were trying to protect, and now he was going to pay for his knowledge. Why? Because he had been, like many before him, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

     Very subtly, Oris slipped his half finished letter to the king into his pocket. He was then frog-marched through the castle. Oris slipped the note out of his pocket and flicked it toward another hallway. None of his captors noticed. He hoped someone would find it.

     Well, he thought, at least he was a prisoner and not a victim.

     They left the castle and traced an unfamiliar route until they reached the same place Haqar the Kyrii had led Oris to not two hours before. He was jostled inside, down a flight of steps and into a low stone room. The door slammed shut and almost all light was shut out.

     Oris knew he wasn't alone, but he was too afraid to say anything. The moment he had entered the room, he felt the change beginning inside him. Where once had been a sane mind, he somehow felt his wits being drained, his skin tingling, his fur solidifying. Something was happening to his body and mind that he couldn't quite understand...

     ***

     The hooded Skeith looked up as Haqar entered his study. The Kyrii bowed low.

     "My Lord, the jester has been captured."

     "And?"

     "And... they're ready."

     The Skeith got up from his desk with an air of excitement. "You've checked?" he asked eagerly.

     "Yes, sir," Haqar replied.

     "Good, yes. You must gather up our supporters and release them. Make sure they head straight for the castle, Skarl will disappear, and I'll be there to replace him," the leader said hurriedly. Haqar bowed again and retreated.

     ***

     In the basement, Oris lay curled on the hard stone. He was still changing, but he had become aware of a sickly green glow, the only light source in the entire room. It came from the center, and when the Lutari peered at it, he could just make out a solid chunk of greenish slime, bubbling and undulating.

     He also noticed many others imprisoned. The basement was far larger than he had first thought, and there were hundreds of pets trapped there. Oris had always been a very curious Lutari, and it was this that kept him at least a little bit sane. It gave his mind something to focus on – what were they all doing down here?

     He uncurled himself and stumbled over to the nearest figure. Reaching out, he was about to touch her when he recoiled in shock. Instead of the fur of a Kougra, he found scales, huge bat-like ears, and giant claws.

     She was a Mutant. They were all Mutants. Even Oris knew that, if he wasn't a Mutant now, he soon would be. That was why the bubbling goo was there. It was a transmogrification potion, except that it had become a transmogrification spell and it was changing everyone within its reach.

     Revulsion struggled with pity, but pity won, and Oris stretched out his paw again, gently touching the Kougra's back.

     She uncurled slowly and turned her tortured eyes to him. He talked soothingly, unsure exactly what to do, but aware that, on some level, they knew who they were supposed to be.

     "It's okay, I won't hurt you. We'll escape"

     Oris continued in this manner, and slowly a great crowd was pressing in from the shadows. The other Mutants had heard his words and were gravitating toward their warmth and promise. The Kougra was fully alert now, and gazed up at him with the same hungry expression mirrored on each of their faces. It was hope.

     "Friends, I don't know what is going to happen, but you have to fight this. There is a way out-"

     The door opened, bright light flooded the room, and the Mutants scattered to the corners, shying away from the brightness. Oris did the same. He watched as a silhouetted figure strode to the horrid orb.

     The figure touched the orb's surface gently, and Oris felt as if fingers had gripped his mind. He struggled to retain his own thoughts, but the Mutants hiding in the shadows were lost instantly. Vaguely, Oris heard a voice echo in his mind.

     "Go to Meridell Castle. Capture King Skarl."

     Instantly, the Mutants swarmed to the door, each moving with great purpose. Thinking fast, Oris slipped in with the Mutants and made his way slowly to the door, up the stairs, out into the street.

     The citizens of Meridell screeched in fear and fled at the sight of the hideous horde. Oris stayed with them as they marched toward the looming stone walls of Meridell Castle, thinking furiously about what to do. They were going to capture Skarl. He had to act.

     As they approached the castle, Oris noticed a small group of heavily armed knights heading in the opposite direction. His note had been found, then. He wasn't sure they would be able to stop what was already happening, but the knights could at least arrest those responsible. They knew where their headquarters were and that they were the ones who had kidnapped all the citizens. And it was all, thought Oris, thanks to me. He allowed himself a little pride, and that gave him courage.

     When he saw the soldiers forming ranks before the gates of the castle, he breathed a sigh of relief. Slipping away from the Mutants, he rushed up to one squadron of guards and grabbed the commander. The Elephante tried to pull away, an expression of horror on his face. It was only then that Oris realized what he must look like. But there was no time for that.

     "The king is in danger, go to the Baker's street market and find the old foundry. Some knights are already there. Tell them to destroy the orb in the cellar."

     The commander looked at him, dumbstruck, but Oris shook him hard and pointed.

     "Go!" he commanded, and the commander obeyed the simple force of the word.

     Perhaps if the sickly orb were destroyed, the culprits might lose control of the Mutants, poor creatures that they were.

     Poor creatures that we are.

     He felt a small pang of sorrow and regret, an inkling of what his fellow Mutants must have suffered during their slow transformation. But there was no time to dwell, the king was in danger and he would go and warn him.

     Oris managed to find a vantage point atop some barrels, and from there he was able to spot the huge king easily enough. Moody though he was, Skarl was a commander and warrior. If there was a battle to be had, he would be in the thick of it, and his bright red and blue clothing and hefty build made him easy to spot.

     Climbing down, Oris quickly pushed, shoved, darted and, in one case crawled his way to his king. There was a gap in the raging battle, an open clearing in which Skarl stood swinging a big mace at the onslaught of Mutants, who howled and shrieked in fear and misery as they were forced to obey the command to attack.

     The Lutari stopped in his tracks. The heaving mass that was King Skarl was not the only heaving mass of King Skarl on the battlefield. Not six paces was a Skeith identical to the first in every way down to the fine cut of his clothing and the mean glint in his eye.

     And in that same moment, a great explosion rang out from several blocks away. The Mutants all screamed and Oris felt something deep inside his mind loosen and fall away. The knights had destroyed the orb, and with it the Mutants were free.

     From all around him came cries and sobs of joy. Each and every Mutant was slowly, agonizingly slowly, turning back into their normal selves. Oris looked down at his arms and saw that the fur was once again soft. His body felt normal once more.

     The battle had completely stopped. The castle defenders were dumbstruck, while the ex-Mutants were too ecstatic about their newfound freedom.

     Oris, however, was transfixed by the two identical kings. Each Skarl had noticed the other, and they were both staring. Oris approached and looked from one to the other.

     "What is going on here?" asked one of the kings.

     "I should ask the same of you," said the other.

     By now, everyone in the vicinity had noticed this strange dichotomy, and peered at the kings with a mixture of shock and amusement. Oris was no different.

     A knight pushed his way to the center of the crowd and pulled up short when he saw double.

     "Your highness?" he gibbered.

     "Yes?" said one Skarl.

     "Yes?" said the other.

     Oris took over. "What is it?"

     Confused, and with nothing else to do, the knight turned to Oris and began to speak.

     "We followed the instructions in the note and a tip from a group of guards. We found and destroyed a sort of orb thing and arrested everyone we found. When they realized the jig was up, one of them started talking."

     "Apparently they were capturing townsfolk and trapping them in that basement. They managed to turn them all into Mutants and used the orb to control them. Their aim was to capture our king and replace him with a Skeith that looks exactly like him. I presume this is him now."

     Oris nodded. Both of the Skeiths turned at once to face the other.

     "You were going to pretend to be me, huh?" one hissed.

     "I already am me! It is you who is the pretender," the second glowered.

     "I think I would know who I am," the first retorted.

     "Your highnesses," Oris interrupted, "I think I know of a way to settle this dispute. If you could both please look this way and smile?"

     Both Skarls looked, and instantly Oris knew. He pointed to the Skeith who had spoken last. "He's the real king, arrest the other."

     The knight rushed forward to do as he was commanded.

     What followed was all a bit of a daze to Oris. The ex-Mutants were reunited with their families. The culprits were thrown into cells in the castle, and there was an extra small and uncomfortable cell for the Skarl-pretender.

     Later that evening, when he had rested a little and washed himself, the real King Skarl sent for Oris. The Lutari met him in the gardens, a private and informal audience. The two walked together in silence for a while before Skarl broke it.

     "How did you know?' he asked.

     "Know what, sir?" Oris replied.

     "Know that it was me?"

     Oris grinned. "It was easy. I asked you both to smile, and he smiled."

The End