The Blade of Shattered Hope

Chapter 12

Mothball had to grab Sato and physically pull him away from the spectacle. The sight was just too hard to believe and had put him in a daze. Luckily the fighting clowns didn’t seem to notice them.

“Come on,” she yelled at him, dragging him across the field as easily as a sack of raked leaves. “Soon as those lugs take notice we’ve got one the likes of you, we’ll be the ones they be fightin’, not themselves-bet your buttons. Come on! ”

Sato finally got his feet under him and regained his composure, walking quickly alongside Mothball as Rutger struggled to keep up. “What was that? Who are those people?”

“Bugaboo soldiers,” she replied. “Nasty people, they are. Completely insane.”

Sato forced out a chuckle. “They’re dressed like clowns and trying to stab each other with sharp swords. What makes you think they’re crazy?”

Mothball seemed to miss his sarcasm. “Not right in the head. Been crazy ever since the war ended, not knowing what to do when there’s no one to fight. Rutger, chop-chop, little man!”

Sato turned to see Rutger a good twenty feet behind them, pumping his short little arms as he tried his best to run. “Slow down! ” the short man yelled. “Before I croak!”

They topped a small, sparsely wooded rise and headed down the other side. Once they were out of sight from the odd group of battling clowns, Mothball finally stopped and allowed Rutger to catch up. The poor man’s face was blood red-a cherry on top of a black ball. Sato expected a blur of insults and smart remarks from Rutger, but it was all the guy could do to breathe, heaving air in and out.

“I still don’t get it,” Sato said. “Who are those people?”

Mothball rolled her eyes, in a rare bad mood. “’Tis a long story and no time to tell it. Once we make it to me mum’s house, you can ask your questions. Can we go now?” She loomed over Rutger with her hands on her hips.

The robust little man looked up at her. “How far?”

“Just ’round the bend up yonder,” she answered, pointing toward a small paved lane that came out of a forest to their right and went over the next hill. “We can stop runnin’, we can. I ’spect them Bugaboos’ll be quite occupied for a spell. Come on.” She headed off for the road.

Sato looked at Rutger. “Do you know anything about these Bugaboo soldiers?”

Rutger shrugged, a movement that shook his whole body. “Enough not to bug Mothball about it. She has a long history with those nutsos. Let’s just get to her house and then we can talk about it.”

“Whatever,” Sato muttered, consumed with curiosity. Sword-fighting clowns were bad enough, and the fact that Mothball was scared of them only made it worse. He felt a disturbing chill that made him shudder. “Let’s go.”

Rutger started off down the hill, and Sato followed.

The road led to a cluster of homes surrounded by an enormously tall wall of roughly mortared stones. In fact, everything about the neighborhood was tall: the houses, the trees, the carriages and their horses. And once he got past the sheer size of it all, Sato was amazed at how medieval everything looked.

What kind of a world had Mothball grown up in?

She seemed to sense his thoughts. “Don’t ya worry, Master Sato. Plenty of fancy things in this Reality-cars and tellies and the like. We just enjoy livin’ the old fashioned way ’round these parts.”

“Just be glad they have fridges and real toilets,” Rutger muttered.

They made it to the wide opening of the border wall, where a massive iron gate was closed and locked to prevent anyone from entering.

“Can’t be lettin’ in the Bugaboos,” Mothball said. “Gate stays closed every minute, ’less you say the password.” She took a deep breath, then yelled in a slow, booming voice, “Donkey hoe tea!”

Sato wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Did you just say Don Quixote? Like the book?”

Groans and creaks of metal filled the air as the gate swung inward.

“No, never ’eard of that one,” Mothball responded as she stepped forward to enter. “I said donkey… hoe… tea. Chooses three random words, it does, and every day’s different.”

Sato hurried to keep up with her, Rutger hustling along right behind him. “It? What is it? ” A loud clang announced the gate had closed again.

“Old Billy’s fancy ’puter that runs the place. The gate, the lights, the whole bit.”

Sato couldn’t help but be fascinated by this Reality. Up until now, he’d seen only the cemeteries of Tick’s Alterants, and he was excited to have a break and meet more people, see if they were a lot like Mothball.

A gravel path led them from the entrance through a greener than green patch of grass, speckled with red and yellow and purple wildflowers. A slight breeze picked up, running across the grass in waves, bringing a sweet scent along with it. It hit Sato that the temperature was perfect here-not too cold and not too hot. For the first time in awhile, he had the urge to kick back and relax, take a long vacation. And right here in his tall friend’s neighborhood seemed like the perfect place.

With a deep sigh, surprised at his sudden good mood, he followed Mothball as the path intersected a wide, cobblestone road, running away from them for at least half a mile, both sides of the road lined with those ancient-styled houses. Made of large rocks and roughly hewn brick, the homes would have looked almost like natural formations that had stood for a thousand years, except for the countless boxes of flowers hanging here and there, the roofs thatched with bundles of long grasses, the multi-colored windows, and the brightly painted wooden doors-mostly reds and yellows.

And the yards. Sato was used to his home country of Japan, where the small homes sat almost on top of the streets and had maybe just enough room for a tiny tree and a single bush. But these houses had huge yards, filled with green grass and finely groomed bushes and majestic trees. And gardens. Lots and lots of gardens, growing every veggie and fruit known to man, by the looks of it.

As they walked down the street in silence, Sato had the feeling that if he’d been born in this Reality instead of his own, he would’ve grown up the happiest person ever. How could anyone be grumpy in a place like this?

Then he remembered those psycho people dressed up like clowns and fighting each other with swords. The big stone wall and locked iron gate. Maybe life here wasn’t so blissful after all.

“Which one’s yours?” Sato asked. “And where is everybody?” He’d yet to see one other person.

Mothball absently pointed somewhere up ahead. “Just a bit farther. And most folks are off to town, doin’ their jobs and such. Thems that ain’t are havin’ afternoon tea in their parlor, I ’spect.”

“I don’t think my feet will ever forgive you,” Rutger said through heavy breaths. “We need to bury a bunch of dead people in your backyard so we can wink straight there next time.”

“Mayhaps we’ll start with you,” Mothball replied.

Rutger barked a fake laugh. “Well, the way my heart’s beating, you just might be right! I’ve probably lost ten pounds already.”

“Walk another few weeks straight, and maybe you can fit through me mum’s door without me kickin’ ya in the ruddy bottoms.” She laughed, a rolling stutter of thunder that lifted Sato’s spirits even more.

“You guys are the weirdest best friends I’ve ever met,” Sato said. “Maybe you should just go ahead and get married.”

“Married?” Mothball roared. “What, and have little monster babies with my ugly face on little balls of fat? Methinks I’d rather marry a horse.”

“Feeling’s mutual!” Rutger countered.

“Would eat a lot less, that’s for sure,” Mothball murmured.

“And wouldn’t complain at your incessant gibbering!”

“Smell better, too.”

“You know what they say-sometimes a husband and wife look like brother and sister. You and a horse-well, perfect!”

Mothball scratched her chin, acting like she couldn’t hear him. “There’d be horse patties lyin’ ’round about me flat. Might get a bit messy.”

“Okay, this is getting creepy,” Sato interjected. “Where’s your house?”

Mothball stopped, then threw her arms up and clapped once as she looked at the large home to their right. “Well, bite me buttons, here we are!”

The house and yard looked a lot like the others, though the front door was pink. Mothball’s proclamation had barely ended when the door swung open and a gigantic woman with a huge mop of curly black hair on her head came rushing out to greet them. Her clothes were the same style as Mothball’s-loose, dull colors, hanging off her skin-and-bones body like drying laundry. Or maybe dying laundry.

“Me love!” the lady yelled as she ran down the stone steps, all gangly legs and arms making her look as if she might collapse into a heap of sticks at any second. “Oh, me sweet, sweet love! Been ’specting you, we ’ave!”

She reached Mothball, and they squeezed each other tightly, circling around, both of them crying. Sato looked away, uncomfortable at intruding on something intimate and personal. When they finally let go of each other, Mothball pointed straight at him.

“This here’s Master Sato,” she said proudly. “And, of course you know Rutger, me best friend.”

“Ah, yes, yes,” her tall mom replied, the enormous smile she’d worn since opening the door still there. Sato noticed her teeth were just as crooked as her daughter’s, but much whiter. “So good to see you again, Rutger. And you, Sato, welcome. My name is Windasill, and I’m so happy to say we’ve finally met. I’ve been waiting for months.”

“Really?” Sato said, surprised.

“Of course.” She looked at Mothball, a slight look of confusion on her face. “You didn’t tell him?”

Mothball shrugged, clearly embarrassed.

Sato couldn’t imagine what was going on. “Tell me? What didn’t you tell me?”

Instead of answering, Mothball nodded at her mom.

Windasill grinned again and curtsied-quite the display from someone so big. “You do look just like him, I must say. A wee bit shorter’s all.” Then, inexplicably, she started crying, the stifled sobs accompanied by tears streaming out of her eyes.

Now he was beyond confused. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

Rutger answered for them. “Sato, you’re the Alterant of Grand Minister Sato Tadashi, who was the supreme ruler of this entire world-in this Reality anyway.”

“ Was? ” Sato repeated, not knowing how to react to the strange revelation.

Mothball’s mom answered, right after spitting on the ground. “Bugaboos killed him last month, they did, just weeks after he took office. Sacrificed hundreds of blokes to break through security and get to him. He was the most respected leader we’ve had in ages, despite being so young. Gone and dead now.”

“Why… why’d they kill him?” Sato asked. He had an uncomfortable feeling this was leading somewhere he wouldn’t like. Mothball’s answer confirmed it.

“They thought he was you.”