8

Dande-boar

“MAYBE IT STUCK TO YOUR cloak by accident,” Leigh said, as she set down a small crate of veggies.

“I mean, one time I caught a giant burr on one of my shoes. I didn’t even notice until I got home.”

Calla shook her head as she lugged another crate behind their booth. “I feel like you or I would have noticed. It was a large feather.” She stopped to look around at the other booths that lined the small dirt road. “It’s just so strange, finding it like that, especially in the dead of night.” She suppressed a shudder.

Leigh shrugged. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

Calla looked at her. “A sign of what?”

Leigh shrugged. “Well, when something weird happens, maybe there’s a reason—something important. Maybe that feather is a sign that the dead wisteria winged-moose was a big deal, and we should have told the village.”

Calla frowned. “I highly doubt it.”

“Well, let’s agree to disagree,” Leigh said. She turned and began to organize and position the produce. “It feels so oddly quiet around here.”

Calla leaned against the booth. “Probably because I left Pye and Mischief at home. I decided it would be easier to manage the booth that way.”

“Good call,” Leigh said.

Calla glanced over to the neighboring booth on their right. Near them hung dozens of vibrant tapestries, all full of colorful woven designs. Then her heart stopped.

Hanging in the center of the booth was a large tapestry.

It was of a wisteria winged-moose.

Dust clung to its corners, but in the center of the tapestry, the bright, vibrant image had stayed intact. The winged-moose proudly glided against the sun, its wings cutting through the rays from the sky above.

It was a stark contrast to the doe she and Leigh had found. The doe had had discolored scattered feathers and blank eyes.

Before she could point this out to Leigh, there was a yell.

Around them, plant folk began to run by, pushing and shoving each other out of the way.

Leigh looked up from her organizing, and she and Calla ran out to see the source of the uproar.

Further down the road rampaged a large wilder. It was a boar-like creature with large tusks, puffy white fur that resembled a dandelion, a leafy mane, and two long wood-like tusks. It snarled and flared its nostrils as it crashed through stands and overturned boxes and barrels.

Leigh’s eyes widened. “It’s back,” she said breathlessly.

Calla looked at her. “Back? You mean it’s been here before?”

Leigh dipped behind the stand and waved her over. Calla followed. As they crouched, Leigh explained.

“Every few months this pig has been coming by and eating crops and veggies from our neighbor’s gardens and stalks. Usually during the night.”

They peeked out to see the boar use its tusks to puncture a barrel. It shook its head, overturning apples. As the barrel clattered away, the dande-boar quickly scarfed down what was dropped.

Leigh frowned and lowered her voice. “I’ve never heard of it coming to the village, and at daytime nonetheless!” She crept over to their produce and grabbed the veggies they laid out. “Grab as much as you can.” She bundled leaves, berries, and squashes into her arms as she hastily went from box to box.

Calla kept her eyes on the dande-boar. It finished its spoils and began to nose around, its large snout kicking up dust where it sniffed.

“Leigh,” Calla began.

“Go for the curled-squash!” Leigh yelled, her back turned as she frantically rummaged through the produce. “It sells best!”

The dande-boar’s small leaf-like ears flicked, its large head now turned in their direction. Its small red eyes focused on them.

Calla hopped to her feet. “There’s no time, Leigh.” She looked around. “Where do you keep the herbs?”

Leigh looked up. “Herbs? Left corner, but those aren’t worth as much.”

Calla dashed over to a box, spotting small, dried leaves and sticks tightly bundled together with pieces of string. She spotted stalks of sorrow’s sorrel, and bundles of greensnap twigs and mottled-bells.

I can’t cast many spells with these, but they’ll have to do. She scooped them up and stuffed them into her pocket. She darted out from behind the stand.

Leigh looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “What are you doing? It’ll see you!”

The dande-boar flared its nostrils as it watched them.

“It already sees us. Besides, we can’t just let it destroy everything you and your family worked hard for.”

The dande-boar dragged its hoof against the ground, meeting Calla’s gaze.

“But your staff is broken!” Leigh said. “You can’t fight that pig!”

Calla glanced back at her. “I don’t need it. I’ve been studying something!”

With a loud squeal the dande-boar charged at them, its vine-like tail lashing as it grew near.

Calla threw down two twigs. She flicked her wrist and silently casted her first spell. A tall flame of silver light shot up, causing the dande-boar to skid back. Calla watched as the dande-boar careened into the barrels, breaking some. Nectar poured out from the containers, causing Calla to wince. That’ll cost a lot.

As the spell’s flame faded, the large pig shook the honey-like droplets from its white fur and charged at her again, nose flaring. Calla pulled two mottled-bell buds from her pocket.

Let’s try something different. As the wilder charged, tossing its head to and fro, Calla swiftly dodged its tusks, dancing back to lead it away from the stand.

“Careful!” Leigh called.

The wilder looked back towards her and flared its nose. Leigh ducked behind the stand, terrified.

“Hey, eyes over here!” Calla snapped. She threw down the two flower buds, scattering pollen on the ground. The wilder squealed and charged. As it crossed the patch of pollen, Calla snapped her fingers.

The pollen glowed and popped as it rose off the ground, quickly beginning to swirl around the pig, who continued to run. Just as it was mere inches from Calla, it began to lift into the air. The wilder looked around, confused, as it was carried into a small twister of light. Calla concentrated, feeling a minor tinge of pain in her head. Little Zepher was a difficult spell; she only had seconds before it whittled away, so she had to act now. She hurtled the wilder back with a swift down-right motion of the arm, causing it to clatter down the paved road. Calla winced as she saw a plant-lark pulling a cart of goods.

“Watch out!” Calla warned.

The fern-like lark looked up and dashed away as the wilder tumbled into the cart of clay pots, overturning it. The wilder rose and shook the dried clay off itself. Then it turned back to Calla and glowered. It gave a loud, ear-piercing squeal and charged at her. Calla ripped out two twigs from her pocket and snapped them. With a toss, they became two arrows of silver light spiraling toward the boar. The wilder evaded them and grunted.

Calla leapt away as it stamped its hooves down into where she’d just been standing.

She dove her hand into her pocket, only to grimace as a bolt of pain traveled up her arm. She had forgotten how straining spell casting was without a staff.

The wilder leapt at her again; this time, its large sharp tusk nicked the side of her cloak. Calla pulled a bundle of mottled-bell buds from her pocket and hurled them at its face. The wilder coughed and shook its head at the cloud of pollen.

Calla backed away, desperately searching her pockets for another bundle of twigs. She pulled out the only thing left in her pockets—a single mottled-bell bud. She looked up at the wilder, who now glowered at her, raking its hoof against the ground and tossing its head. It began to approach.

Calla’s mind raced. What can I do with one mottled-bell bud?

Splat, sploosh, splat.

The wilder skidded to a halt and turned.

A few feet away, Leigh stood over a small, overturned box of round orange tomato veggies. She looked up and froze as the wilder eyed her.

Ah, Leigh! Calla thought with dread. The wilder turned away from her and lashed its tail. I have to move! She dashed over and hollered to get the wilder’s attention. “Hey fuzz face! I’m over here!”

The dande-boar’s ear flicked but it remained focused on the veggie stand. Leigh shrank behind the bundles of dappled-squash and red-thorned zucchinis as it approached.

With a bellow, the wilder charged, causing Leigh to yelp with fright. She quickly scrambled from the stand as the pig neared.

Calla noticed a bit of pollen still clung to the wilder’s coat. Without hesitating she flicked her arm down as she cast her spell.

The dande-boar slightly lifted off the ground again, causing it to trip and stumble into the stand. With a crack it severed the beam, causing the thin roof to collapse. Rubble and wood rained down on the dande-boar, sending up dust. As the cloud cleared, the wilder found its tusk wedged beneath the wooden beam.

Calla caught her breath as the wilder struggled and thrashed. It was caught.

Leigh ran up to her gleefully. “You did it! You stopped the dande-boar!”

Calla looked down at a magic-scorched leaf in her hand. And without my staff.

She looked back at Leigh apologetically. “Sorry about the herbs. And from the looks of it, the squash,” she said, peeking over at the wreckage.

Leigh shook her head. “I mean, you saved most of the harvest, so.”

Calla looked up at the murmuring amongst the forming crowd.

Feeling sheepish, she leaned over to Leigh. “You think they’re mad about the mess?”

Even the wilder ceased its struggle to free itself and looked curiously up at the forming crowd.

Leigh huffed. “Well they shouldn’t be. I mean you practically saved the rest of the stands around here.” She stepped forward and waved her hands. “Settle down! I can assure you that this will all be taken care of and fixed. As for anything damaged—er, talk to my Pa, William Briar.”

Calla noticed the chatter increased, and gazes were focused on something in the distance. She heard the words “guard” and “search” thrown around.

Calla blinked. “They’re not here because of the dande-boar,” she thought out loud.

Leigh looked at her curiously. “Then what are they here for?”

The crowd swiftly parted as a troop of uniformed guards walked through. They were adorned in leaf-like armor with green and bronze engraved into the metal. They carried tall halberds and thatch-woven belts with swords and wore serious expressions as they marched past, surveying the crowd.

Calla stared in shock. “It’s the Runnelloom guard.”

Leigh looked at her, sharing her surprise. “But what are they doing here?”

“I don’t know, but it must be something big.” She felt a tinge of nervousness. Had the dande-boar’s presence caused such a ruckus that it warranted the guard’s call?

Leading the guard was a tall, tree-like lark covered in moss and lichen, with a long branch-like nose from which two leaves grew. His beady brown eyes carried a stern expression as he scanned the crowd. His long dark green cape flitted as he walked. Perched upon his shoulders were two large birds—a blue-feathered robin and a red scattered-spot finch.

As his gaze landed on them, Calla and Leigh stiffened.

He walked towards them, arms crossed behind him. His guardsmen followed.

Rotten Oats and Dead Barley! What could they possibly want with us?

Leigh muttered nervously, “What do we do?”

“I don’t know. Uh—act naturally.”

As the captain reached them, Leigh spoke. “Good day to you, er—sir.”

The lark’s expression didn’t change. He responded in a deep voice. “Captain Conifer.”

Leigh blinked. “Ah yes.”

Calla looked at her. How did Leigh not know this? Then she remembered Leigh had only moved here two years ago. Still, this didn’t help their predicament. The captain glanced over at the dande-boar, which resumed its efforts to escape. Then he looked over his shoulder at his troop.

“Spruce, Peat, take care of that wilder over there.”

Two guards, one leaf green with frond-like hair, the other stout and stump-like, nodded. They dashed over to where the wilder was caught.

Leigh leaned over to Calla. “Follow my lead, okay?”

Calla gave her a look. “What are you talking about?”

Leigh winked and turned back to the guards. “Well, it seems you all have this under control.” She began to push Calla away. “So I guess we’ll just be taking off then.”

As they turned, a guard that looked to be made of nettles stepped behind them. She gave them a stern expression as she held a pointed halberd.

Leigh gave a nervous laugh. “You know, I’m more of a stayer any way.”

Calla frowned. “If it’s about the dande-boar, it’s my fault. I’m not used to casting spells without my staff—”

The captain shook his head. “We’re not here for the dande-boar. In fact, we’ve been searching for you, Calla Witfirth.”

Calla blinked.

A guard with long fern-like hair walked up and unfurled a long scroll. Calla read it as the guard spoke.

“You have been summoned by the Keepers of Runnelloom, pertaining to an urgent matter at hand.”

Calla blinked again.

The Keepers of Runnelloom were an esteemed group of scribes and historians appointed by the High Court of Runnelloom. They had the responsibility of chronicling, preserving the written and physical history of the Kingdom Runnelloom, and the settlements of the Agrestal.

Any summons by them was not to be taken lightly. Something must have happened.

Captain Conifer continued, “The Keepers who sent for you are Oakbur Wicketsmith, Nia Northwillow, Rowan Frondmire, and Saffron Witfirth. I can explain more of why on the way, but it is pressing that we leave as soon as possible.”

Calla looked up as he said the last name. “Saffron Witfirth?”

Leigh’s eyes widened. “Wait, isn’t that—?”

Calla nodded. “My sister.” She felt a spring of worry as she continued to read.

Why would Saffron send for the guard? Calla was surprised that Saffron even had that authority. Sure, she was a high-ranked apprentice, but an official summons?

As Calla’s eyes drifted along the paper, she gave a pause.

“That can’t be right,” she muttered. She squinted at the words to make sure she hadn’t misread it.

Leigh gave her a curious look. “What is it?”

“This summons isn’t just for me,” Calla said.

She looked back at the captain, who nodded. “It’s also for your companion wilders,” he confirmed.

Leigh cocked her head. “Pye? Mischief?”

Calla shook her head, confused.

“Thimble.”