Installment 5

 

    

Og turned and followed the band of boys as they threaded their way through the dense streets ahead.  Master Birkwhite hoisted his suitcase once more and followed Og.

After they had ventured only half a block or so, Og stopped and turned.  “Do you feel that?”

The man shrugged.  “Feel what?”

“Well, as far as I know, only a slodhi can feel it. Maybe a Chaos Lord could, I don't know.  I’ve never met a Chaos Lord.”

“So, what is it?  What are you feeling?”

“The city,” Og explained.  “It’s about to make a happy change for us.”

Birkwhite nodded dully.  “Alright…”

Og took hold of the man’s arm.  “Stay close…”

And then it happened.  

Master Birkwhite watched in awe as 7th Street bent at a sort of weird angle to itself.  The buildings on both sides of the avenue sagged into amorphous, gooey blobs of matter.  The stone pediments and facades wiggled and wavered like a mirage.  Walls changed shape and color.  The sidewalk became incoherent.  A man sank right through the ground and disappeared.  Strangely, no one within the zone of change seemed to notice.  The boys kept moving even as they stretched like taffy.  A horse connected to a carriage continued munching oats from its feed bag even as it melted away like butter in a pan.

Then, just as suddenly as it had vanished, a new scene coalesced before their eyes like a backdrop lowered behind frozen actors.  It was as if invisible stage hands had rushed in under cover of fog and rearranged an entire set.  A row of hedges was now a brick wall.  The horse and carriage was now a cabbage wagon and a sleepy street vendor.  The closest building, formerly a hat shop beneath a clerk’s office, was now an apartment building.  A large sign above the front entrance read:  The Carrington.

“Wait a minute!” Birkwhite exclaimed.  “Is that—?”

“It is.”  Og let go of the man’s arm.  “But don’t be too hasty.  Look.”

Birkman blinked.  The slodhi was right.  A mob of people had gathered in front of the apartments.  Many were looking up toward the roof.  Some were pointing.  Others were shying away in haste.

Master Birkman followed the line of their attention seven floors up to the roof and there beheld a curious sight.  A man-shaped creature was crouched there atop the curved clay tiles.  Yet it was clear to them both that the thing was no man.  Indeed, it possessed arms and legs, a head and a body, but all similarities to a human being stopped there.  The being—whatever it was—appeared to be made out of dirt and rock.   It growled angrily, pulled off a handful of clay tiles, and then threw the pieces into the air.  “Be free!” it howled from the dark hole in its head.  

The people below screamed and ran as the ceramic plummeted to the ground then shattered against the cobblestones.

“Good heavens!” gasped Master Birkwhite.  “What is that thing?  And why is it destroying the roof?”

“I have no idea,” said Og.  “Things like this have been happening all over town the last week.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, things like this happen all the time.  It’s Oard, after all, but it just seems like it’s been happening a lot more recently.  I can’t explain it.”

“Well, I need to get in,” said Birkwhite.  

“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Og.  “I’ll get you there.”

“But—”

“No worries.  Here.”  Og stretched out his right arm and held it above the man’s head.  “A little clay won’t hurt me.”

“You’re a stout fellow, that’s for sure.”

“Come on.”  Og took a step forward then stopped abruptly.  Without thinking, he darted out a paw and, once more, grabbed Master Birkwhite by the arm.

“It’s alright,” said Birkwhite.  “I’m—”

“No!” Og snapped.  With one paw, he lifted the man up and jerked him backward through the air.  

“What in heaven’s name?” spluttered the man.  “What’s the meaning of this—?”

Og set Master Birkwhite back down, but not before he interposed a stiff arm between him and his apartment building.  “Don’t take another step,” he warned.

“But—”

“I’m sorry,” said Og.  “I didn’t mean to startle you, but look, there.”  He pointed down at a yellow chalk symbol on the ground.

Master Birkwhite leaned down and squinted.  “I don’t get it.  What is it?”

“It’s a magical glyph,” said Og.  “They’ve been popping up all over the city.  People step on them and instant chaos ensues.  You might have been propelled into pure oblivion for all I know.”

Master Birkwhite stared blankly at the glyph and shook his head slowly.

“I saw a peasant farmer step on one yesterday,” Og went on.  “The man was magically compelled to sing the same children’s song for over four hours straight.”

“Good heavens.”

“I can still hear the chorus in my head.”

Master Birkwhite looked up to the slodhi.  His face was pale.  “Can you please get me to the doorway?  I’d very much appreciate it.”

“Come on.”

Once more, the two set out.  Og moved through the crowd, avoiding clay projectiles as he went.  Moments later he deposited Master Ernst Birkwhite upon the front doorstep of The Carrington. 

“Thank you,” said the man.  

“It’s no trouble,” said Og.  “Now, I really must be going.  I have more to do tonight.”

“More?”

“Two friends,” said Og.  “I need to escort them from City Hall.”

“City Hall?”

“Yes, wish me luck.”

The man put his hand on the handle and pushed the door open.  “Good luck, sir.  And thanks again.  I don’t know what I’d have done without you!”

“Watch your step.”

Master Birkwhite gave a wave then entered the apartment complex.  Og turned and headed for City Hall.  The night, he knew, was far from over.