EPISODE 7: The White Queen
PART ONE
The girl only had to glance at the trunk at the back of the travelling Curiosity
Exhibit to know what lay inside it. She recognised the force that pulled
her towards her Other World all too well by now. She decided to ignore
it. She had had two perfectly silly adventures in her childhood and was
getting far to old for such whimsical nonsense. Far too old. She was sixteen
now, no longer a girl but a little woman. Women got married and took tea
and learned to crochet, and did not go on adventures.
Still...
She pretended to examine the stuffed exotic birds on their dusty perches, but found her eye being drawn back to the trunk. It wasn't as if she was married yet. And what harm would it do? No matter how long she spent in the Other World, her absence from the real world was never noted. She knew to keep her adventures a secret, out of fear that she may be considered quite mad, and never told anyone save her dear Uncle Charlie, who always listened so very carefully to all of her wild stories, make-believe or no, and smiled and nodded and sometimes wrote them down for her. And, goodness knows, it wasn't as though these opportunities arose every day. She had spent many long days searching in vain for the hole to jump into again, or pushing her fingers against that blasted mirror to no avail. Perhaps this was her last chance for one more adventure, before she indeed grew too old. She did so want to see the rabbit again, and that ridiculous madman, and her dear old Puss. And besides, she was now a Queen there. Perhaps those curious fellows would treat her with the sort of respect which that deserved.
She looked at her parents. They had their back to her, entranced by a pin-board of beastly beetles. This was her chance. Her one and only chance. Lifting her skirts, she ran quietly over to the trunk. She tried its lid. It was unlocked! Holding her breath, she opened it and put her head inside.
Sunshine was on her face, and strange flowers danced in the breeze around
her. An extraordinarily large insect buzzed over her head, chasing a small
bird. She looked around her. Yes. The toadstools grew a little too high here,
and the grass was slightly the wrong shade of green. This was not England.
It was her Wonderland. She had found it once again! She began to pull herself
out of the ground, and in the exhibit, her parents failed to notice the young
woman's legs and feet sliding into the trunk, or the lid falling silently
shut behind her. She stood up, dusting the soil from her frock and looking
about herself contentedly.
"
Curiouser and curiouser!" she smiled to herself as the tall shadow rose
up behind her.
So the Black Queen still hadn't learned her lesson, eh? Well, if she thought
she'd be able to intimidate her again, she'd have another thing coming. She
turned to face the Black Queen, opening her mouth in anticipation of the
terribly witty and cutting comment she was sure her brain would come up with
at any second.
Her face froze. She looked up. And up.
And up.
And then she turned and ran.
She ran and ran and looked hopelessly for the spot of soil she had dragged
herself out of, that she might be able to crawl back through.
But it was too late. It was not her Wonderland and it was far too late.
And Alice Dodgson's family never ever saw her again.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The third arrow finally brought the boar down with a pained squeal. Hank
lowered Big Sally and clambered out of the undergrowth to retrieve the dead
creature. Dammit, he still wasn't up to scratch with his aim. It had been
easy with the zombies - there had been so many, as long as he aimed the thing
at head height and fired, he was bound to hit something. Besides, they had
come apart so easily. It was different with a living, breathing creature
that ran around and screamed and had firm flesh. He had felt terrible when
his arrows, missing the boar's vital organs, had ploughed into the creature's
back and haunches bloodily, causing the animal to cry out and flail desperately
in pain. He picked up the body, momentarily surprised by its weight and warmth.
But you know what dead bodies feel like, don't you? You've lifted
them up before...
He grunted as he swung the corpse over his shoulders and tried to squeeze
the memory from his mind. The blood running thickly down her pale arm, her
bright eyes trembling with horror. Because with that memory came the other
one, from that day after they'd first met Furnus. The same expression on
that poor kid's face as he'd confessed to what he'd done. Trying to hide
his disgust as he looked at that beloved, loyal, beautiful child, practically
his own baby brother, and pictured him clubbing another person to death.
And you know what brains look like too. How they look when they go Squish.
He began to pick his way back to the camp, and as he did, he couldn't stop
the other voice in his head totting up the body count.
Well, there's Bobby and the Orc, and Sheila and the other Orc, and you
must have killed at least twenty zombies, and you killed that Beast, and
of course there's Porky here, and Presto helped you finish the Beast off,
but otherwise he's OK, and... are we counting those copies that Varla conjured
up? Because I want to count what that bitch whore did with her imitation,
I really do. That was just fucking twisted. And then there's me! Don't forget
the things I've done!
Indeed. Hank let the voice in his head talk on to him, and remembered seeing
the decapitated pile of flesh and blood in the corner of the first battle
ground, and hearing Eric's breath coming out in panicky, laboured spasms
as Bobby had whispered his sins. But he still didn't wonder why, so many
years after their unpleasant return to Earth, he still distinguished those
bad trains of thought, those immoral, self centred, unfair ideas that he
sometimes had, by giving them Eric's voice. He'd done it for so long now,
and it hadn't even made sense for years. Eric had gone into the realm as
a maggot and emerged as a burning butterfly with one hideous, gorgeous wing.
Sure, he still made sure he always came first, but that was only so that
he'd be on the front line protecting everybody else.
...some other idiot used to do that before I started getting all noble...
And the bragging and insults just weren't the same any more. He had begun,
even during the first entrapment in the realm, to soften them with a touch
of knowing self-deprecation, an arching of his eyebrow or a curling of the
corner of his lip that said, if you knew how to read him, that he knew he
was being an asshole, and suddenly it was all just a big joke. Presto had
got it first - God knows when - then Diana, not long before they left the
realm, then Sheila and Bobby as they had sat with him in hospital. And Hank...
Hank still didn't Get It. But he knew that the voice that taunted him wasn't
right, was no longer Eric.
...so if it's not me, who is it?
After all, the things that voice said about Diana... Eric would never say
that. Not when she was a friend he admired, not when he lusted fruitlessly
after her and wrote reams and reams of those tedious fucking Haikus and certainly
not now that...
The laughter brought Hank into the real world.
Speak of the Devil!
Hank stopped in his tracks as Eric and Diana fell, giggling, out of the
woods. Eric was barely dressed, and still carried half of his clothes. Their
arms were around one another, their fingers still pawing over the little
explored flesh of one anothers torsos. They were both sweaty and unkempt.
They didn't even notice Hank standing there with a dead pig over his shoulders.
Hank scowled. He could remember what the excitement of a new relationship
felt like, of course, but right now that memory could bring no comfort to
him. Besides, he and Sheila had been so careful, so considerate to the others.
They'd done nothing about the mutual attraction in the realm, and once back
home they hadn't even kissed in the presence of the others at first, in case
it made them feel too weird. And here were these two, with a universe to
save, in the wake of The Big Split, flagrantly indulging in yet another sneaky
fuck! Why was it they said they were going off alone again?
Hank cleared his throat. The two new lovers stopped and looked up at him.
"
D'you get wood?" Hank winced inwardly as Eric's innocently raised eyebrows
marked an immediate comprehension of the double-entendre.
"
I'm sorry?"
Eric's voice was all sweetness and light, his face a picture a naiveté.
But at the end there was that knowing look and that ironic smirk that showed
the joke had been understood and shared. Hank had little patience for it.
He shifted the boar a little, demonstrating its heaviness.
"
Firewood," he clarified.
Diana snorted a contemptuous laugh. Eric just grinned at him.
"
You didn't think we were actually going off to gather twigs, did you?"
Hank met the other young man's eyes coldly. It was an Old School trick,
good for making Eric back down.
But that was back when I was the weak one. Before you admitted to me
about the other girls, before you hassled me into trying your weed and your
coke, before you called me at 2am from some Godforsaken backwoods police
station and begged me to bail you out without telling the others...
It wasn't working. Eric wasn't looking away, embarrassed, like he used to
do. He just stood there, smiling and holding that damn girl's hand.
"
Well, I've actually caught us some meat for once," replied Hank, irritably, "and
the others are actually getting vegetables and water, so we've actually got
a chance of having a hot meal for the first time since the business with
Varla, but if we don't get a fire going, all we'll actually have will be
a raw pig, some raw sprouts and some cold water."
Diana sighed, releasing Eric's hand.
"
I'll go back for some," she told her lover, "I won't be long."
"
You'd better not be," he replied as she backed away from them, not once
looking at Hank, then turned and jogged into the dark green shadows of the
trees.
Hank watched Eric as he pulled his armour back on over his head as though
it were a woollen sweater. The black haired youth barely reacted as the chainmail
rattled heavily down his torso, only blinking slightly as it weighed down
his shoulders, digging into the burn. He was watching the clump of trees
into which the Acrobat had just disappeared, and humming something to himself,
very faintly. Hank could only just make it out. It was "Teddy Bears
Picnic".
"
Aren't you gonna go with her?" asked Hank.
Eric laughed a little, buckling his breastplate.
"
Are you kidding? We'd never get a fire going at that rate!" He looked
up at Hank, noting the disapproval in his eyes. His tone became more serious. "I
suppose you must think we're being kinda selfish right now."
"
Kinda..." echoed Hank.
"
Hank, you know how long I've wanted this to happen. We know we've got responsibilities
here, and we'll find a way to juggle them with the... well it's not a Relationship
as such..."
He trailed off. Hank was looking distinctly unconvinced.
"
Aw, c'mon," smiled Eric, flicking back into joke mode, "don't tell
me there aren't times when you and Sheila can't keep your hands off each
other..."
Hank didn't have to say anything. Eric stopped himself, pressing his lips
together, quickly swallowing his embarrassment. There was that little smile
in the corner of his mouth again.
"
...guess who just forgot you guys split up?"
Do you get an apology? No?
He pulled his gauntlets on, stepping towards Hank.
"
That must be heavy."
He took the boar's front legs.
"
I'll help you carry it."
Hank pulled back slightly. Typical Eric! When you wanted him to help, he
didn't want to know, and when you wanted to do something by yourself, he'd
step in without a by-your-leave, or half a thought for man's pride.
"
Don't worry, Hank, they'll know you killed it. It's got three arrows in
its ass."
Eric was so close to Hank that he could smell his breath as he spoke to
him. The musky aroma was instantly recognisable even over the stench of the
dead animal.
So that's a Teddy Bears' Picnic!
Hank remembered that smell, and the taste.
And he doesn't know you were there first. He's licked the places you've
fucked, and he's smiling at you, the stupid idiot. You'll always have that
over on him, and he'll never know. Let the poor bastard help you carry the
damn pig.
Hank took the boar's back legs and allowed Eric to help swing it off his
shoulders.
"
Dead bodies. Gotta love em," sighed Eric as he took half of the animal's
weight. Although he was still smirking, Hank could see his eyes briefly flash
that same look he'd seen after the first fight, when he finally accepted
that DM was dead, that same look he had whenever the Night Terrors took him
to Hell. But Eric quickly swallowed it back down, and told himself it was
only a pig, and grinned.
"
Men bring meat!" He grunted in a Captain Caveman voice.
Hank half smiled back, and started to make his way back towards the camp.
Always joking, aren't I? Somebody I care about dies, I joke about it.
I get disfigured by a demon, I joke about it. You bet if I'da walked in
on you screwing my precious Goddess I'd have had some smart assed comment
on
hand. But would I cry afterwards? You've seen me go through worse dry eyed.
I'm just so terribly brave. That's the sort of leader they need. The sort
that Red needs.
Hank stepped over a fallen log, watching the back of Eric's head.
You want to see me cry, don't you.
He walked in silence.
Yes.
Diana brought firewood. Plenty of it. And they made a stew and laughed and ate and laughed some more and sang stupid songs and for a while, just for a while, they were all happy again. Bobby ran his big fingers through Uni's mane and she huffed and muttered. Bobby and the girls thought they'd heard the word "handbag" in her whinnying, and talked about it on and off all night. Hank and Sheila found themselves sitting near each other, eating and chatting as if they were on one of their early dates, communicating in a way they hadn't done for years. Diana sat in front of Eric, and he wrapped himself around her, happily, playing with her long dark hair and occasionally kissing the back of her neck. Presto sat and watched the others quietly, smiling, the firelight picking up his amber eyes behind his glasses. And towards the end of the night, Eric gasped and choked and clawed at his shoulder and Diana took him away to a sheltered corner, and Sheila walked away with Bobby and Uni, and Presto and Hank stood by the fire, and waited for Venger to come towards them.
"Hello", said Venger eventually. The flickering fire lit his face
from underneath, making him look all the more sinister and inhuman.
"
What now?" demanded Hank.
"
Hank..." muttered Presto under his breath.
Hank was sure he saw Wizard and Demon share a mutually apologetic glance.
"
You know where you are going?" asked the Demon.
"
It doesn't have a name," replied Hank, folding his arms, "or at
least if it does, we don't know it."
"
But you know it is ruled by the White Queen."
"
So they say."
"
You will have heard of her."
Hank raised his eyebrows. "Can't say I have."
"
You have." Venger looked at him seriously.
Hank snorted and shrugged.
"
OK then, so I have. Maybe it just slipped my mind."
The Demon shook his head. "You will be surprised."
There was an uncomfortable pause. Eventually Hank spoke.
"
So, she's powerful."
"
Very," replied Venger.
In a shadowy corner, a familiar male voice whispered "...for fuck's
sake..."
"
And...?" prompted Hank. What was it, another portal? Another Queen in
league with Furnus? He deliberately didn't look at Presto.
Venger gave him that sheepish look he despised so much.
"
She needs help. She's lost, just like you."
In the corner, Eric's burn was only just becoming bearable. He pressed himself
next to Diana and listened to his friends talk to the bastard that had mutilated
and cursed him. The White Queen. Another powerful sorceress.
"
For fuck's sake."
Diana hushed him, but he glowered nonetheless. Another Sorceress Queen?
What was with this damn world? They were, like, ten a fucking penny round
here! Memories came flooding back to him. Sheila, sobbing invisibly onto
his shoulder. The look of utter devastation in Presto's innocent eyes. But
behind that came a stronger, older memory.
Running. Falling. Choking. His mouth gaping open and filling with stagnant
mud. The occasional allowed rush of air, foul, but breathable nonetheless.
His own voice, only younger and warped by terror.
("Please. Oh please, God, no. Somebody help me. Please. Please stop.")
He closed his eyes against the recollection of the worst choice of words
he could possibly have used.
("Please. I'm a virgin. I'm only fourteen...")
"...she is from your world," continued Venger, "supposed
to be a pupil of my father's. Like yourselves."
"
But something went wrong," chimed in Presto.
"
Things often went wrong," sighed Venger. "He always took his students
so young."
"
Tell us something we don't know."
Venger met eyes with Hank. "They usually died. Or went mad."
"
That's not true!"
Hank followed the source of the cry and saw Bobby storming over to the camp
fire, furiously.
"
You're lying! DM would never let that happen to Earth kids!"
Hank wanted to agree with him, but he found himself thinking about the kid,
trembling unconsciously under a strange poison, his own legs growing cold
and fading away, the expression of the Paramedics as they cut Eric's clothes
off him.
"
He wouldn't!" railed Bobby, shaking with rage. "How can you say
that, he was your Father!"
"
And look what happened to me," answered the Demon, sadly.
Bobby fell silent.
Hank became aware of the four other pairs of eyes watching from the shadows.
Venger noticed them too, and addressed the camp in general.
"
My father thought that this girl would be different. She was talented at
finding portals and dealing with strange creatures. As a young child, she
had been able to visit another magical world from Earth. It was believed
that she was the only mortal ever allowed in or out of there. They made her
a Queen."
Venger paused, looking down.
"
She was talented. I felt her power as she entered this world, and I... I
took her."
Presto sighed.
"
You took her?" The voice was Sheila's, from the darkness.
Venger nodded. "I believed that, with the right encouragement, she could
be a very useful servant."
Hank glared up at Venger. "So why didn't we run into her before?"
"
She wouldn't listen. She became sure, so sure that this was her world, that
she could still control it, that she was still the White Queen. It began
to become true. She believed in the nonsense so much that it simply overtook
reality. There was nothing I could do. The prison where I had held her had
become her private palace, my servants were her creatures. Her rules, not
mine, took hold. She would not fight for me, or anyone. She just shut herself
away and devised nonsensical games. That was well over a hundred years ago.
Goodness knows what state she is in now."
Bobby folded his arms, mirroring Hank.
"
So where was DM while all of this was taking place?"
"
A previous student had him... distracted."
"
Distracted..." echoed Presto.
"
An Earth boy. He had destroyed the Demon God Pan and assimilated many of
its powers - flight, imitation and eternal youth, not to mention free passage
between dimensions."
Hank frowned. Why did this sound familiar?
"
He was driven insane, of course, and went on quite a rampage," continued
Venger, "abducting Earth children from their beds and forming a small
Militia. He was wise to steer clear of me, but had succeeded in storming
a merchant sea vessel, murdering the captain, before he was stopped."
Hank shot a look at Presto, who was also deep in concentration, wracking
his memory for where he had heard of that boy before.
Venger sighed and shook his head. "Tragic, tragic story. And by the
time the Dungeon Master had dealt with the Pan boy, the White Queen had too
slipped away from him, creating a bubble of her own world inside ours."
"
So if she turned you away," snapped Hank, "and she turned DM away,
what makes you think she'll let us in?"
"
She is lonely," answered the Demon, "it is said that she creates
games all day and all night, but has nobody to play them with. She still
believes herself to be a sixteen year old girl. She does not trust others
from this realm, but you are like her. She may see you as acceptable playmates."
"
We're not here to amuse anyone, Venger."
Venger's gaze followed the voice.
The camp fire reflected off the golden breastplate, catching the dark eyes,
burning with hate.
"
No, Cavalier," replied Venger, "but you must stop her. She has
become far too powerful. If Furnus reaches through to her before you do...
Her world is mayhem. It must not be allowed to spread, in this world, or
in yours."
A snort of joyless laughter came from Eric's corner.
"
This world's crazy enough as it is, thankyou. Come to think of it, so's
Earth."
"
So be it." Venger stepped away from the fire.
"
Beware of her games," the Demon added, over his shoulder. "They
are traps. Never believe that you can win."
"
Still no riddles, Big V?" sneered Hank after him, despite himself. Probably
the only benefit of having Venger as a guide instead of his benevolent father
was that at least now they got straight answers.
Venger stopped for a moment, looking away from them into the night sky.
"
As I understand it, you will have enough of those tomorrow."
He went from stock still to a full sprint away from the camp. After only
four steps his black wings had unfolded and, with their first beat, lifted
him into the air. Darkness dissolved into darkness quickly, although they
could still hear the flap of his wings fading away. They didn't truly relax
until Eric came out of the shadow, wriggling the pins and needles out of
his right hand.
"
OK, fun's over," said Eric before Hank could so much as a draw a breath. "We'd
better catch some Zs."
Bobby blinked innocently as he set himself down next to the unicorn.
"
Eric? You're tired? Geez, what've you been doing all day?"
A mocking little laugh ran around the campsite. Diana, stepping over Bobby's
legs, was sure to give him a gentle kick. Eric pretended to react indignantly.
"
I just don't respond well to Magiced-Up Megabitches when I'm sleepy."
Hank laughed a little, eager to join in the banter.
"
Hey, we should be fine as long as you and Presto remember, when she proposes,
you say 'no'!"
A leaden blanket of silence fell over the camp. The girls and Bobby glared
at him. Presto looked at Hank as though he'd just told him his mother was
dead and then spat in his eyes. The Eric voice in Hank's head was laughing
at him, what a stupid thing to say! What's wrong with you, you fucking
idiot? The real Eric just muttered "Jesus...", that freaked
look rising briefly, then falling away again from his eyes.
Hank sighed. "Fuck." He winced again. He'd been trying not to swear
so much. "Look, I'm sorry, Presto."
"
'S OK," muttered Presto, "we're all tired. And I guess you haven't
had the best week yourself either."
"
Yeah." He didn't look at Sheila. He'd been doing so well! He was able
to face Venger again, he'd saved the day in that creepy tower, and he'd spent
most of the evening laughing and flirting with his girl just like old times.
The young Wizard looked at the campfire.
"
We'd better put the fire out."
He rolled his eyes as the grumble of complaint began to rise from the others,
and lifted up his arms automatically to protect himself from the barrage
of leftovers being hurled from his best friend's direction.