Stiltskin (Andrew Buckley) (21 page)

They could survive in deep tunnels where the oxygen is thin for hours upon end where a human would simply pass out and die, wishing that he had been born a Dwarf and probably contemplating why he had even considered entering such a deep tunnel in the first place.

It was this increased lung capacity that had allowed Rumpelstiltskin to lay as if dead, unmoving beneath the ground, surrounded by angry plants, for the better part of an hour. The plants had begun to drift off to sleep and slowly moved apart, back to their original rooted spots. Rumpelstiltskin took the opportunity to thrust forth his hatchet and break the ground above him before scrambling out. He’d taken some good swipes at the over-articulated bush before he was overcome and dragged into the earth. His face was bleeding in several places where he’d been slashed with vines and he was almost certain that a particularly strong lavender bush had succeeded in dislocating his right shoulder.

He was also covered in leaves, dirt and matted blood, and looked a lot like a man from Liverpool after he’s had a good solid night out on the town. Or, in Thiside, a man from the Three Fairy Islands who’d just visited the Dockside district of the City of Oz. Rumpelstiltskin walked to the edge of the garden and leaned against the wall. It was at times like this he wished he had control over his own magic. But all the wishing in the world would do him no good, at least not while he was the one doing the wishing.

The evil Dwarf headed along the edge of the garden, being careful to stay away from the slumbering plants. He pushed open a door set into the emerald wall at the back of the garden and found himself in a long courtyard crisscrossed with lines of laundry; wizard’s hats and robes and colourful pairs of underwear hung everywhere. Wizards believed in colourful underwear the same way that water believed it was wet. It was just natural.

Rumpelstiltskin looked toward the Eastern tower where he believed he would find the wizard he was looking for. Niggle was a member of the Wizards’ Council who suffered from a nervous disposition that made him stutter uncontrollably. He’d also had the misfortune of having his life saved by Rumpelstiltskin not long before the Dwarf was incarcerated in the Tower.

It was by the Dwarf’s own hand that the then-apprentice wizard Niggle found himself in peril. Rumpelstiltskin had been looking for an apprentice wizard whom he could manipulate and control, and Niggle had turned out to be the perfect victim. Rumpelstiltskin set up an elaborate trap by which he could save the wizard and have him in his debt. At his request, the wizard had then performed a spell for Rumpelstiltskin that allowed him to continue with his plan. Not long after the spell casting, the Dwarf was apprehended and escorted to the Tower by the Agency. That was the last time Niggle had seen him. Until today.

The wizard Niggle was not a particularly good wizard, although that was not to say he didn’t have the skill. It was more that he had a very comprehensive fear of everything, including his own powers. As a result, he spent a lot of time locked in his chambers trying to avoid the practice of magic. He held the opinion that the fact wizards spent all their time
practicing
magic was a clear indication that they shouldn’t be using it at all. As soon as Niggle passed his final exams and was admitted into the Wizards’ Council, he resolved to attend council meetings only when absolutely necessary and remained locked in his apartment chamber passing the hours by reading books and trying different types of tea. He was called upon to work magic only once, a few years ago, to magically reinforce a cell of particular importance in the basement of the Tower prison. Since then, most people seemed satisfied just to leave him be and keep their distance.

Something that the Wizards’ Council did know that Niggle didn’t was that he was actually one of the most powerful wizards in all of Thiside or Othaside. Thankfully, he was too scared of his own power ever to test it out. It was for this reason that the Wizards’ Council let him remain on the council despite his lack of involvement. They never knew when such power might come in handy, especially if it was on their side.

Niggle was happily boiling water for the latest batch of tea he’d received from some far-off place and was scanning one of his many bookshelves for something to read. Along with his nervous stutter came an equally nervous twitch that caused his right eye, neck, and left shoulder to spasm in unison every thirty seconds or so. He’d grown to live with it, but the rest of the world found it very unsettling. Accompanied by the stutter, his unique appearance made most people find it difficult to hold a conversation with him.

There was a distinct knock at the wizard’s chamber door that made Niggle jump. It was Wednesday; no one ever visited him on a Wednesday. Incidentally, Thiside only had five days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Sunday, and Snarfday. To make matters worse, the days occurred in different and random order every week, as laid out by the Thiside yearly calendar. This made keeping track of appointments very difficult but made the embarrassment of forgetting someone’s birthday or anniversary much more understandable. Every Snarfday, an apprentice wizard would stop by to drop off the council news, but other than that, Niggle never had to interact with anyone. A surprise visit from an unknown someone made him nervous, which wasn’t really a stretch of the imagination when everything made him nervous anyway. On a scale of one to ten, where one is a little bit nervous and ten is an extravagant sort of nervous, with a paling of the skin and hot sweats, this was around a seven.

The someone at the door knocked again, this time with clear impatience. Niggle realized he’d been staring at the door hoping they’d go away but their persistence was apparent as there came a third knock. Niggle made his way over to the door and cracked it open and peered through with his left eye, the one that didn’t twitch. Niggle stood almost six feet tall, and was happy to see that no one was there. His mistake was quickly realized when a voice from below the five-foot mark said, “Hello, Niggle, nice to see you after all this time.”

Through a face covered in dried blood, leaves, and, dirt Rumpelstiltskin grinned up at him from beneath a wizard’s hat that was obviously too big for him and, knowing the Dwarf, more than likely stolen.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” asked the Dwarf.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t wait for an invite and pushed his way through the door into the chamber. He noted that almost everything was covered in dust and the whole place smelled like must, tea, and self-indulgence, much like the smell of Ukrainian cooking.

Niggle stood with the door open, mouth agape.

“You can close the door, Niggle. And your mouth.”

“J-j-j-j-yes,” said Niggle and closed the door. And then slowly closed his mouth. “Y-y-you were in p-p-p-pr-pr―in the Tower.”

The Dwarf pulled the kettle away from the fire, as it was starting to boil over. “I know you’re probably surprised to see me but as you can plainly see, I’m no longer in the Tower so we can stop stating the obvious.”

“How d-d-d-did you g-get out?”

Rumpelstiltskin waved a dismissive hand. “Not important. The important part is that I’m here now and could really use your help.”

Niggle twitched uncontrollably. It looked a lot like someone had dropped an ice cube down his shirt. “W-w-what happened to your f-face?”

“I had a run-in with the Castle gardens. Evil bloody plants. Actually,” said the Dwarf with an evil glint in his eye, “let’s start there. How about you wish me healthy again? I think this shoulder is dislocated.”

“C-c-c-an’t d-do that, you know that, w-w-w―”

“Oh right, wizards can’t make wishes, yada, yada, yada. How about you magic me up some first aid then?”

“W-w-w―”

“Oh, come now, my friend, let’s not forget who saved you those many years ago. By the way, you haven’t aged well.”

“Th-th-th―”

“No need to thank me again. It was just lucky I was outside your parents’ cottage when that seven-headed poisonous snake was thrown―uh―jumped at your head. The least I could do.”

“B-but I p-paid that d-d-debt.”

“That is true, yes. But what I’m asking this time, aside from a quick fix-me-up, is for you to perform the exact same thing you did for me before I was sent to the Tower.”

Rumpelstiltskin leaned back in the chair and winced a little at the discomfort of his shoulder.

The wizard Niggle was sweating profusely and his twitch was now occurring every twenty seconds.

“B-b-b…”

Rumpelstiltskin used his good arm to loosen the hatchet from his belt loop and idly examined the sharpness of the blade.

Niggle observed that the loudest and most threatening words in the room were those that were not being spoken.

“O-o-o-of course,” said the terrified wizard.

“I’m glad you see it my way.”

Niggle twitched and hastily wiped the sweat from his forehead and rolled up the sleeves of his robe. Rumpelstiltskin watched as the wizard silently called into the room the magical essence of nothingness and moulded it into somethingness. He moved his hands in a circular gesture and the room around him began to glow blue. Niggle moved closer to the Dwarf and with his eyes still closed, he pointed a steady finger at Rumpelstiltskin and pushed it to his forehead.

Rumpelstiltskin’s body became rigid as the magic did its work, coursing through his body, his veins, his muscles, and his bones. He felt his shoulder snap back into place, the broken skin where the plants had lashed at him knitted back together, and even his muscles that were tired from all the recent running felt refreshed and made anew.

The blue glow diminished and the wizard Niggle resumed twitching and sweating. He sank into a chair and rubbed his temples.

“Th-th-there ya go. G-g-g-g-g-good as new.”

So easy.
“And now the girl. I need you to tell me where she is.”

“I haven’t d-d-done a finding sp-sp-spell in a long time.”

“No time like the present,” said the Dwarf and grinned maliciously.