Godnapped!, page 1
Copyright © 2021 by Jude Cocaigne
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by SP Designs
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Notes
About the Author
Also by Jude Cocaigne
Acknowledgments
To my darling Sorsha.
Prologue
Mabon never saw it coming.
The Harvest Moon celebrations had just ended, and the golden-haired god was preparing his lair to spend winter in the snuggest atmosphere possible.
He verified one last time that everything was in place: his pillows had been stuffed with the discarded down of blue ducklings collected with care around the Ponds of Virtue by the monks of Ashalore; his mattress had been padded with the golden straw of the Hills of Wood’s best fields, harvested with love by the dryads; his pantry had been packed with the most sought-after delicacies of Ze World his human devotees could gather; and he had replenished his library with the latest ZW Gazette best-sellers he had yet to read. He would have the most amazing dreams, the most repairing sleep, and the best of times until he was to come out of his retreat again and resume his work, for the benefit of every living creature on the planet. It was good to be a god, especially when you got to relax half of the year.
A series of almost inaudible squeaks caught his attention for a second, but as he scanned his interior and saw nothing out of place, Mabon fell into contemplation once more.
Satisfied with what he beheld, he sighed with contentment. His den was like him: handsome and peaceful.
He didn’t possess any frivolous ornaments; the walls of the underground hollow had been carved into the raw earth, and he used the occasional budding root to hang portraits of his sister, Ostara, and his best friend, the semi-god of death and dimensions, Samhain.
As he gazed at the pictures with adoration, the god wondered what his twin was up to, and laughed to himself at how different they were. While he favored the quiet and comfort of his beloved Enchanted Forest to recuperate after the season’s hard work, Ostara preferred spending her free time rejuvenating on some island in the sun where people worshipped her all year long. She was without a doubt having a lot of fun right now.
Mabon put his tidying on hold and grabbed his most cherished picture. It portrayed him and Samhain together as children, when Ze World was still but a sprout slowly blooming into life.
“Life is swell, my dear,” he mused, and he smiled because in just a few weeks he would meet his beloved again, for the first and the last time of the year, on what Ze World rightfully called Samhain’s Night.
The leaves on the trees outside his home were already turning golden and red and orange, which were Mabon’s favorite colors. He had gathered a few of them to decorate his reading nook, as well as acorn hats and sycamore seeds.
As he put the last touch to his decoration, he imagined how their reunion would unfold: Samhain would bring him a Jack-o'-lantern of his confection to perfect the arrangement, and they would spend the night celebrating Mabon’s retirement with sweet wine and tasty treats—and a whole harvest of kisses!
In the wee hours of the morning, as Mabon would prepare for hibernation, Samhain would light the lantern and take over from there, making sure that Nature would gently fade into sleep for the arrival of Pappy Winter, helping things die and get a better afterlife, and holding the fort until Ostara’s homecoming.
They wouldn’t see each other again afterwards. Samhain was a busy man all year round, as it befell him to help passing souls find their way to and from the Nether. But that one night of the year, a month and a half after the equinox, was theirs to relish and share. It marked the official end of term for all the seasonal gods and the impending return of Pappy Winter for the so-called—and usually so cold—dead period. But it was their night1.
Lost in his anticipation of the joyful reunion with his companion, Mabon didn’t hear the tiny rattle behind him. In fact, he wouldn’t hear or see anything for quite some time.
When the Trackers of Ollvyanyul—the elfin capital of the Enchanted Forest—came by during their usual patrol to make certain the Harvest god wanted for nothing, they found his lair empty, but remarkably messy. Knowing this was completely out of character, they left to comb the neighborhood for witnesses.
One elf remained on the scene to make pictures of anything that looked suspicious2 and she sure had a lot of work that day: books lay scattered on the floor, leaves ripped apart, seeds and acorn hats crushed. The entire reading nook had been savagely ransacked, but it seemed nothing had been taken.
When she found a lock of pure strawberry gold hair and a few velvety drops of petrol-blue godly blood, she knew at once they were facing foul play.
Unfortunately, the party searching for witnesses came back quite empty-eared. The only account they could glean was that of a couple of drunken squirrels who’d been fighting over a nut when they’d heard rumbles, grunts, and tiny vociferations coming from the young god’s burrow.
When they’d recovered enough sense to have a look, the two rodents could only make out Mabon’s pantaloon and booties disappearing into thin air. They’d known it was him because of the particular embroideries on his clothes, but they’d wondered why his feet weren’t in fact touching the ground, and what’s more, why they were pointing downwards.
The elves hardly understood what the pair had been rambling about, but in light of their sketcher’s findings, they agreed on the fact that Mabon had been abducted.
And they knew only one person who could talk some sense out of the witnesses, so they sent someone to get her at once.
Chapter 1
Getting rid of those rascals was proving more difficult than she had anticipated, seeing as she didn’t want to kill them in the process. Clutching the branch with one hand and both legs, she reached for the colony with her butterfly net. Her potion had worked, and most of the now entranced bugs had corralled together as intended. Except, instead of kindly gathering in the garden outside in a neat pile, they had done so at the end of Woodruff’s topmost branch, and she had never been keen on heights or any form of climbing.
More of the pests were clambering along and all over her as she tried to advance as far as possible to snatch the colony, but to no avail. The branch was getting thinner by the inch; you’d think Woodruff wasn’t getting enough food to fortify his limbs this high up. She made a note to herself to give this knave of a sentient treehouse his fair share of no dessert tonight.
She reached out one more time, lost her grip and almost fell off the tree. By chance, her right foot got stuck in a crevice between branches. Swinging head down and barely holding on, she swore and cursed as only a lady of her lineage could—sailors and other fishmongers would have been proud.
“Woodruff,” she screamed. “You drat of a gnat-eaten mongrel you! Stop being such a child about this and give me a lift! How the heck do you want me to finish the task if you don’t help me out a little? Teamwork, mate. Teamwork!”
The tree leaves ruffled slightly, although there was no wind to account for it. Without haste, a wooden platform extended from the trunk, picked her up, and lifted her towards the end of the branch where she managed to catch all the armadillo-looking bugs. Then the platform leisurely descended to the ground. She took her filled net to the nearest shrub and released the bugs.
“Yuk… Woodlice… Shoo! Go colonize the Forest’s sod and make yourself useful!”
She went back to Woodruff, rubbing her hands and dusting off her ample tunic and long skirts. When in front of the tree, she looked up at him and judged him with intent.
“You wuss… I told you to wash your leaves when it started itching! But nooooo! You don’t like washing with rain water. It has to be spring water, or else you might not get all the nutrients you need. See the result? Woodlice! They love your wood! And they only get cleared away with? You guessed it, rain water! And who has to do all the dirty hard work to rid you of those pests? Me, that’s who! Now let me in, you little bugger, I need a wash. And yeah, that’s right, I’m washing myself with rain water! And I might let some drop on your floor just for revenge!”
The trunk shuddered in response. Gradually, a door appeared in its bark, complete with a handle she turned to let herself inside.
A knock on the bark prevented her ascension to the shower-room. With a hand in her hair, as she was trying to get one last bug who’d apparently thought her mane was a nice place to nest, she opened the concealed door in the face of one panting elf.
“Vejuna Fandango?” The disheveled patroller wheezed.
“Yup? What can I do you for?”
“We need your help. Mabon has been godnapped!”
As the most powerful and multi-talented herbologist Ze World had ever known, Vejuna Fandango was the woman people sought when anything happened that had anything to do with, well, anything. But mostly magic.
Nature’s Magic was Vejuna’s trade; she could prepare everything from poti
People often wondered if she was a goddess, but as they couldn’t figure out which one, nobody worshipped her. However, everyone respected her deeply, if only out of fear of what she might do to them if they didn’t. Most of the time though, folks left her alone, and it was all the better if you asked her, because she enjoyed her solitude. But if trouble stirred, she would always agree to help, especially in matters of mysteries and adventures—even though it was usually to heal some ailments, wounds or other injuries of the body, the mind and more often than not, the heart.
White and orange struggled to win over her curly mane, attached behind her ears in two exploding buns of twirling untamed locks. She was so short and freckled, with her impish nose and twinkling eyes, that people always mistook her for a little girl; but her crinkled face and husky voice hinted at her maturity, although nobody could ever guess her actual age. Those who knew her weren’t fooled by her appearance though: she was a force of Nature to be reckoned with, sharp as a tack and organized like the universe itself.
Currently, she was interrogating the two squirrels, which had sobered up at once as they saw her approach the scene. The “good cop, bad cop” routine had nothing on her. When she felt satisfied with her enquiry, she spoke to the elf in charge of the investigation.
“We are looking for imps from the Galdosh dimension, according to those two and the very meagre rendition of their very poor memories.” She reprimanded the squirrels en aparté. The two rapscallions shuddered in shame. “It seems they found a way to open a portal, which is very odd, seeing as they don’t have any inkling of dimension magic in their realm—or anything else for that matter… Anyhoo, there you go!”
“Wait! Is that it?” The elf queried, beads of sweat dawning on his unnerved forehead. “Why godnap Mabon? What do they want? Please, help us further!”
Vejuna thought about it for a minute, her face as solemn as the statue of a politician. She was merely doing this to heighten the suspense, as her mind had been made up the moment she had surmised the gravity of the situation. It worked: the elves were in agony. Not that she enjoyed playing with people’s hopes and fears, but elves were reputed to be phlegmatic by nature, not to say insensitive, so she appreciated their genuine concern for the god they protected.
“Alrighty!” was all she said with a beaming smile. Then she went back to Mabon’s lair with an air of great resolve. The elves followed her, bemused and flabbergasted.
At the entrance of the den, she bent down to pick something up from the floor. At first sight, it would have passed for a speck of dust.
“Hm… Right… We must hurry. I’m afraid we don’t have much time.”
“What is it?” enquired the elf in charge. “It looks like dirt.”
“It is. And why is it so bothersome, you ask? Well, look for yourself.”
The elf took the crumb in his hand and inspected it. It should have been plain soil, but it had turned into ashen sand in seconds. The phenomenon was happening all around him, spreading subtly but surely throughout the den. A scream alerted them to run outside. The beautiful tree that guarded the entrance, all red and golden a minute before, was smoldering right before their eyes, leaving nothing but a dead hollow trunk where branches still heavy with vibrant leaves had danced in the wind mere seconds ago.
“Dead and barren. That’s what a world without Mabon is. That’s why they godnapped him: to get what they don’t have—fertile soils and vivid colors.” She paused while she considered her next move. “Well, I’m afraid we’re going to need us a wizzer.”
Chapter 2
Bolonius Piliferakis was enjoying his afternoon. He’d spent it reading and drinking Longest Island’s Iced Teas—a blend of the best tea leaves grown on the ice of Longest Island—and was about to have a nice relaxing bath. He had his towel around his waist, his back-scratching pole in one hand, his favorite duckie in the other, and a toe already assessing the warmth of the water.
“Bolonius, I’m ever so sorry, but the lady did protest too much…”
The gust of wind produced by the Headmaster’s blunt entrance into his bathroom made the towel fly. The interrupted bather stood mortified in the most embarrassing position, with no ways to hide his modesty from the eyes of the little woman standing in front of him—or incidentally, his superintendent. While the latter, frozen in embarrassment, was turning a definite shade of burgundy, the lady marched towards him, oblivious to his nudity.
“Professor Piliferakis, I presume? According to your Headmaster, you are the man I need to solve my quandary. Therefore, I urge you to get dressed and follow me. We have no time for frolicking just yet.” Vejuna picked up the towel and handed it to the bewildered naked man with a wink.
She then turned around and marched out, taking with her the poor Headmaster who had not yet recovered from his shock. “I shall wait for you outside. Please bring along anything you might need to open a portal to the Galdosh dimension. I’ll explain everything on the way. Chop-chop now!”
Bolonius Piliferakis, who was a very talented wizzer, renowned throughout Ze World for his amazing skills at dimension magic and his tremendous knowledge of everything dimensional, looked at the door for a few more seconds before slowly taking his toe out of the water. He obediently put on some pants over his cotton knickerbockers, a loose shirt and his mandatory robes, gathered a few things in a bundle, secured his wand in his belt, and left his bedsit in a jiffy.
He’d never met such a woman before, but he somehow knew for certain he most definitely shouldn’t antagonize her. Nor did he want to anyway: had he been struck by lightning, he wouldn’t have felt any weirder than he did right now.
He hastened to join her.
Vejuna leaned against the wall next to the gigantic double oak doors on the porch of the Academy for Wizzcrafting Excellence, watching students coming back from recess and passing by her without an ounce of recognition. Arms crossed on her ample bosom, she sneered marginally at the sight of those arcane meddlers.
Wizzcraft and herbologism were two very distinct branches of Magic, and they had been rivals since no one could remember when. While herbologists relied on Nature and all she had to offer, wizzers and wizzitches fiddled with powers beyond their own understanding. Herbologists frowned upon wizzcraft because they deemed it unnatural and too dangerous. The latter laughed at the former and called them charlatans. Vejuna had only resolved to ask a wizzer for help because she had no other choice. Unfortunately, both types of Magic were more complementary than they’d ever wish to admit.
As she watched this tall glass of dark water searching for her with his amber eyes, Vejuna thought that the trip might prove interesting and worth her efforts after all. She’d always said that dire matters were best solved with a bit of fun, and she had an idea that fun there would be if she played her cards right.
“Over here, handsome!” She was delighted at his jolt, as she enjoyed making men nervous. That way, if they ended up really appreciating her despite their first impression, she knew they had what it took to be her friends.
“Dear dame, I must apologize for what you witnessed…”
“Apologize? I’m the one who barged in uninvited! Besides, you, sir, have nothing to apologize for.” She winked at him with a salacious smile. His blushing passed almost unnoticed on his burnt umber skin, but blush he did. “And in all fairness, we have no time for apologies. Do you have everything you need for a trip to the Galdosh dimension?”
