Of Mice & Magic: Book 1 Ravenspell

Chapter 7: The Rescuers

Sometimes it is time to leave, even when you don't know where you must go.

—Rufus Flycatcher

As Ben lay sleeping in his vole hole in Oregon, back in Louisiana, Rufus Flycatcher took timid little hops as he entered a forest deep in the bayou near Black River. The moonless night gave only the thinnest starlight, and even that was swallowed in a dense fog. He summoned a will-o'-the-wisp to light his way along a trail curtained by thick, gray spider webs. The smell of mold and death was strong in this place.

Finally, Rufus reached a small hole. His heart beat wildly as he croaked, "Howdy. Anyone home?"

He almost hoped that no one would be there.

A voice so full of murderous rage that it screamed like a buzz saw chewing through a chicken coop shot out of the hole, "What do you WANT?"

In his most innocent tone, Rufus Flycatcher called sweetly. "I, uh, just realized that it has been a coon's age since I've, uh, had the pleasure of your, uh, company, uh, Lady Blackpool."

"Oh, shut yer yap," the voice screamed, and suddenly a long gray snout came out of the hole, and Rufus stared eye to eye with the speaker—a mangy ball of fur that quivered with rage, its left eye blinking incessantly from some nervous disorder. "Don't try to sweet talk me," the creature spat. Then her voice became low and dangerous. "NO ONE ever comes to visit me unless they want something . . . desperately."

"Uh, yes, ma'am," Rufus rumbled. "See, the thing is, I got a whale of a problem. There's this wizardess that just bloomed into power—right in the enemy's backyard. Now, I ain't got all the details yet, but I kind of need me someone to go out and eyeball the situation fer me. You know the usual. Save her if you can, kill her if you have to, and maybe take on an army of enemy sorcerers, to boot."

"And you want me to do it because . . . ?" Lady Blackpool demanded.

Rufus knew what she wanted him to say, but he hesitated. He needed her precisely because she was a shrew. It was early spring, still, and he'd have to send someone over the Rockies. That meant that he'd need someone who was warm blooded. He couldn't send one of the fabulous lizard wizards that roamed the swamp, or an insect. He needed a bird or a mammal. None of the birds that he knew were tough enough for this job. No, it was down to the shrew or a weasel, and Rufus suspected that a mouse would be mortified of a weasel. So it was the shrew.

"You need me because?" she demanded.

Rufus gave in. "Because you're the shrewdest shrew I ever knew," he said with a groan.

"Ah, hah, hah, hah," Lady Blackpool cackled gleefully like an old witch. "That's right! That's oh so right! And what else?"

"And because you're a Ferocious Furball of Felonious Intent, and the Scariest Sorceress of the Seven Swamps."

Lady Blackpool leaped clear from her moldy hole and danced around Rufus. "Oh, Rufus, you do know the way to a lady's heart! Did you bring me a little present, my pet? Maybe something from Pappa Gumbo?"

Pappa Gumbo was the chef at SWARM, the Small Wizard's Academy of Restorative Magic, where Rufus Flycatcher served as the Headmaster. Pappa Gumbo, an enormous cockroach, was the greasiest critter in the swamps, and just maybe the finest cook in the world. As if just remembering, Rufus pulled out some treats that he'd been carrying laboriously in his little paw. "Why, I do believe . . ."