by Steve Dean.

The light streaming in through the open door at the front of the cave woke the boy. After several hours of trying to sleep, with every little noise startling him, he had finally dozed off. The mage CulluC walked in through the door and slammed it shut behind him, he wasn't in a good mood. Last night CulluC had attempted a very difficult spell, it was Phlay's inexperience that had ruined the spell and the mage wasn't going to forget.

"Wake up flea! drag your self out of your pit, we've got work to do." CulluC strode up to the rickety cot and kicked it, setting it creaking from side to side. The boy pulled the thin blanket over his head and mumbled "It's Phlay not flea".

The wizard, who had turned away shouted over his shoulder,"Did you say something, boy!".

"No master, just clearing my throat".

CulluC disappeared into his quarters behind a crude wooden wall opposite his dark corner. Phlay had never been in that part of the cave, he wasn't allowed. That was one thing CulluC had stressed when he had first arrived here, but since the wizard had changed he wouldn't dare anyway.

Although he was very tired he managed to get out of bed and get dressed fairly quickly. He was just ready when CulluC emerged, "Right boy, go down to the stream and fetch me some cold water. Do... you... understand? Not warm from the puddles, cold from the bottom of the stream. Is that simple enough for you?"

With those few quick instructions he hit Phlay on the head, pushed a leather bucket into his arms, put one hand on his head and guided him out of the door. The door slammed shut behind him. Phlay tottered back up the hill a few minutes later with the heavy bucket sloshing icy water down his leg. Glancing at the sun to check the time, a memory suddenly appeared in his head and he was taken back to his first days here as CulluC's apprentice.

"Now young man", CulluC had said. "Your father is a farmer, right?"

Phlay nodded in agreement, he was still too awe struck to speak much. Imagine, him little Phlay being trained to be a wizard of all things.

"So he needs to know the seasons so he can plant his crops, do you see?"

Phlay nodded eagerly. "But", CulluC held up a finger for dramatic effect. "The seasons take weeks to change, see? Then again there are Blacksmiths, when it's light they get up, when it's dark they go to bed. They don't care what season it is, just as long as people bring in the horses and what not."

CulluC leaned closer to Phlay and whispered "But me and thee, my little flea, need to know the time you see?" CulluC straightened up and laughed a jolly laugh. "It's the magic you see, no good just boiling a cauldron full of stuff till it tastes right, like your mum's stew. We've got to know how long it's been there. Not only that, but what time of day or night as well." He suddenly looked Phlay straight in the eye, "How do you know it's midnight?"

Phlay looked at his boots until CulluC ruffled his hair, "Don't worry yourself my little flea, all will become clear" and he tapped the side of his nose, a huge grin on his face.

CulluC had been so kind at first. Not now though, not since he came home from one of his trips wearing that ring. Phlay shivered, not only from the cold.

"About time too!" shouted CulluC as he fumbled the door open. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the now half empty bucket out of Phlay's hand and carried it to the workbench, gruffly he shouted "Go cut some firewood, no, go cut lots of firewood, big thick pieces."

Phlay lifted the heavy axe from its place by the door and left without saying a word. Chopping wood wasn't exactly easy but it kept him out of the cave for a while.

The nearest trees of any size, apart from the old Hazel that grew up one side of the cave, were quite a distance away. A dark wood grew at the top of the long valley. To reach the cave from the west meant pa.s.sing through this thick tangle of trees, very few bothered. Phlay stopped on the edge of the wood and looked around. He kept telling himself he was a wizard, the things hiding in the gloom should be afraid of him, not the other way around. He got to work quickly, hacking at a tree he had felled a few days ago. Phlay was a pretty skilled axeman for his years and soon had a large pile of logs without too much trouble. Of course, thought Phlay, CulluC could have cut twice as much in half the time with a spell, but he didn't do menial work these days. At least getting the wood up the hill was no problem, his master had taught him a few things, fairly simple stuff but they made his life easier.

Phlay pulled a long feather from his inside pocket. Then he looked around for some kind of crawling insect. He pulled some bark away from one of the logs, underneath were several fat, white grubs. Holding the feather in one hand, the grub in the other he began to chant. As the last syllable of the chant left his tongue he flicked the grub into the log pile with the feather. A tiny streak of yellow light flashed briefly behind the grub which disappeared between the logs. A second or two later the logs began to move, shaking at first then rising up like a long snake. Phlay concentrated on forming a picture of the cave in his mind, then he issued a command to the log snake, "Home!"

One by one the lengths of wood joined nose to tail as the leader slithered up the hill. Phlay walked proudly beside the strange beast, this was easily the largest amount of wood he had ever managed to move in one go. Phlay opened the cave door and began shepherding the wood towards the fire place. On hearing the noise CulluC turned from his workbench. He suddenly stood up, knocking his stool over. He shouted something and pointed his finger at the head of the wooden snake. A bolt of blue lightening blasted from his finger and smashed the first four logs to kindling.

Phlay stumbled back against the door in fright, scattering the now lifeless logs. The mage stormed up to Phlay and grabbed his arms. The grip was so tight Phlay cried out, but CulluC didn't seem to hear. "I...!" CulluC's face was a mask of anger, his eyes burning with some inner fire, "...am the mage around here, until I say you are ready, you can keep what you have learned inside your thick skull! Understand!"

"Y...Yes, master, but I am supposed to be your apprentice".

"Apprentice! You are nothing but an idle, b.u.t.terfingered feather brained simpleton! A flea sent to torment me! Why I ever chose you I'll never know, I'd send you back to your family but they wouldn't want you!"

Phlay felt a hot tear roll down his cheek, before he could stop himself he had shouted out, "At least I have a family, not even a dog would stay around you for long!"

CulluC threw Phlay to the ground, his staff flew to his hand as he lifted his arm, but instead of striking, he stopped as if in thought. "Let's see how you get on as a dog shall we." CulluC laughed loudly as he tapped Phlay's hands. Slowly Phlay lowered the hands he had held over his head for protection. He felt them tingle and itch, then grow hot. His finger bones began to writhe and crack, becoming shorter and wider, sending waves of pain along his wrists. He stared at his hands in horror as they blackened and shrank, looked on in terror as short claws sprouted from the tip of each finger. Phlay found himself unable to look away, for now instead of hands he had paws!

A long scream filled the cave as the heat began to crawl up his arms, his pale skin bubbling then sending out thick brown hairs.

"Master! No! Please!" Phlay begged as more and more of his arms were encased in the brown fur. CulluC stood back, an evil smile settling across his face, as he toyed with the large black ring on his left hand. Phlay's pleas turned to whimpers as an agony of creaking bones mutated his arms into the legs of a dog. Inside his skull his brain was spinning, terror and pain uniting to lock his body into a rigid frame.

CulluC laughed again, "That's the first time I've seen a flea with its own dog!" He threw back his head and sent laughter echoing back and forth across the cave. Through his laughter he managed "Go on boy, fetch the sticks"; he dissolved into fits of giggles. Phlay leaned against the door, his arms held out from his body, as if to distance himself from this nightmare. CulluC turned away, apparently satisfied, and returned to his work. The creeping heat immediately stopped, settling down to a dull ache almost to his shoulders. When Phlay was finally able to move again he rushed across the cave and rolled onto his bed, holding his arms stiffly out in front of him.

Phlay spent a pitiful night curled up on his bed, his arms tucked under the blanket out of site. He was dying to relieve himself but the thought of it terrified him. The darkness dragged by until he heard CulluC get up just before dawn. After what seemed like hours longer the mage finally emerged. Phlay looked up at him, whimpering like a puppy. CulluC ignored him, walked over to the fire and began to prepare himself breakfast. The mage hung an iron pot over the fire, then looked into it. He turned to look at Phlay then back to the pot. Phlay seized the opportunity and jumped up saying, "I'll fetch water for you, master, if only I could carry the bucket." He looked at his 'paws' for effect. The mage looked thoughtfully at Phlay then smiled, but it wasn't the kind of smile Phlay wanted to see. This was amus.e.m.e.nt, not pity. CulluC pulled his ever present staff towards himself and touched it to Phlay's eager arms. Once again he suffered a tortured nightmare of agony as his bones stretched and contracted, this time he closed his eyes. But when he could look again the sight he saw made him gasp with fright, now he had the arms of a monkey! CulluC, his eyes filled with tears of laughter managed to say, "There you go boy, back to normal, now fetch me some water." Phlay rushed out of the cave and down to the stream, sobs escaping through gritted teeth, tears squeezing pa.s.sed his determination not to cry. CulluC's roaring laughter ringing in his ears.

Several days later there had been no further incidents. He had noticed, after a day or two, that hair was falling from his arms, and underneath his skin looked quite normal. They were almost his own again now. For the last few days CulluC had done little else but stare into the distance for hours on end, turning the black ring around and around on his finger.

The next morning CulluC woke Phlay early, shouting, "Come on boy, there is work to be done, fetch the water, cut some wood, catch some meat, but not rabbit!"

Phlay dragged himself out of bed and set about his ch.o.r.es with as little speed and energy as he could get away with, later producing three hares from a sack. Without comment CulluC s.n.a.t.c.hed at the hares and rushed them over to the cooking pot.

He had been very busy today, Phlay noticed and now he was cooking large quant.i.ties of food as if expecting guests.

As the sun began to set CulluC suddenly spoke, "Boy? Make your self scarce, my visitors are not coming to see you".

"But master it's getting dark, where can I go?"

CulluC leaned towards Phlay and leered at him, "Would you sooner stay here with me?"

Phlay took the hint and scampered out of the door. It wasn't dark yet but it soon would be. He looked around, there were hardly other dwellings he could go to, not even a distant farm.

Turning around he noticed the old hazel tree growing against the side of the cave. He climbed into a branch near the cave wall, settling in for a long night. Hugging his thin clothes around himself, he felt a hard metal shape in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out a small knife. It was simply made, three pieces of flat metal rivetted together. The middle hinged one was sharpened. It fitted easily in the palm of his hand. As he looked at it his mind filled with memories like cold honey pouring over his brain.

"Now Phlay, you take my knife here, it's a good one, pr'haps it'll come in 'andy for making magic or something".

His father was leaning over him, one huge gnarled hand gripping tightly on his shoulder, his voice was flat and even but his eyes were filled with sadness. "See, it opens out 'ere so's you can hold it, I used it to whit'le them lit'le animals for your sisters." Then his mother was beside him, handing him a small bundle. She smelled of fresh baked bread and lavender as she held him tightly. "Don't forget your old mum n..." her voice trailed off into quiet sobs. His father pulled him away and turned him around. "You're not to worry now, go with this kind gentleman, he's going to teach you lots of fine things. You can come back and visit, like, when you want".

Then they were off, walking up the hill, the strange man leaning on a long staff, he carrying everything he owned in a flour sack. Half way up the hill he turned to wave, his younger brothers and sisters waved back and shouted out to him. Bewilderment and excitement clashed together in his head. This had happened all too quickly, he had never even been out of the village before. A soft voice in his head said "Don't worry you'll be back". He knew with a certainty he hadn't felt before that this was true.

His reverie was broken by the dull thud of hoofs. Phlay looked up, through the half-light he could see four riders approaching the cave from the west. Three of them wore leather armour and were obviously soldiers. They carried long spears, from which a small pennant hung, which carried the crest of Dorra, a small town about a days ride to the west. The fourth was dressed in fine clothing and wore a wide brimmed hat with a long feather. They approached the cave hesitantly, Phlay didn't know if this was through fear or uncertainty. Before they could decide, the cave door flew open and CulluC appeared dressed in his finest outfit. "Welcome, gentlemen, to my humble abode, please step inside, your horses will be quite safe." His voice, although not loud seemed very powerful and commanding, the four men certainly moved very quickly off their horses and into the cave. Phlay could hear nothing from out here, so once again he settled as comfortably as possible between two branches. A sudden thought came to him, the Moon hole! Scrambling up a few more branches he found a roll of tarred rags stuffed into a round hole about as big as his fist. Sometimes CulluC needed moonlight to cast his spells, so when the moon was full the hole was uncovered and a moonbeam landed on the workbench positioned beneath.

Carefully Phlay pulled the rags out of the way and pushed his ear into the gap. At first all he heard was the sound of drinking and occasional laughter. Then it all went quiet for a few moments before whispers started up. Phlay didn't catch the entire conversation but from what he could work out, mainly from the long silence after a heavy bag had been placed on the table, CulluC was being offered a large sum of money to rid the town of something big with lots of teeth! Something that had been terrorising the town and which the soldiers were unable to defeat! Suddenly the voices inside stopped, Phlay thought he heard someone hiss "What's that?" Phlay quickly replaced the rags and began to climb back down to his seat. Unfortunately it had become quite dark now, he could barely see the branches. Suddenly stepping in to thin air he flailed his arms, grabbing at a thin branch. The branch turned out to be a twig which promptly snapped sending him falling to the ground.

Against the clear sky someone was holding up a twig which seemed to glow in the pale light. It turned out to be himself.

Inside his spinning head two thoughts collided and stuck together. Despite a cracking headache Phlay smiled, a wide beaming grin that would have frightened many folk.

That night when CulluC and the visitors were asleep Phlay took out his knife and the hazel twig and began to whittle.

For the next few days Phlay saw nothing of CulluC, who stayed in his room, either snoring loudly or rattling about as if looking for something. On the first day of the next month at precisely midday CulluC emerged from his quarters, backpack in one hand, staff in the other, dressed for travel. "Phlay! Help me with this!" CulluC shouted.

The mage put his backpack on the floor and pulled out a finely decorated ivory tube. Carefully he undid the fastening and opened the top. "Please master, let me do that for you, I'll be careful!" said Phlay, taking the tube from CulluC's hand.

"It's about time you made yourself useful, you can stay here and clean up this place too, I want it shining when I get back."

"Yes master, of course I'll clean every surface." Phlay swept his hand around for effect. The two thin wands inside the tube dropped to the floor and rolled under the table. Phlay was immediately on the floor picking them up. CulluC roared at him and would have knocked his head off if he hadn't been so quick.

"Look master, they are all fine, no harm done! Let me position them for you."

CulluC stared daggers at Phlay for a few moments, then began to calm down. He held out his sleeves to allow Phlay to push the wands into the secret locations up each sleeve. Whilst doing so Phlay noticed a deep red sore under the black ring on CulluC's finger, he had never dared ask about the ring, the wizard had caught him looking at it once and had flew into a rage. When he had finished CulluC picked up his backpack and Phlay helped him get it on. The mage walked to the door and went out, Phlay following behind. CulluC turned to look at Phlay. "My quarters are guarded by a demon I summoned last night, so you better keep out!" With those few words of farewell the mage set off due west.

It seemed to Phlay that CulluC, although walking normally, covered more ground than he should have with each step, so that he was soon out of sight.

Several days later, in a silent valley some days to the west, a figure picked its way carefully across a boulder strewn stream. CulluC, sensing he was being watched, stopped for a moment and studied the landscape. Up ahead, between two ma.s.sive rocks he could just make out a large amber eye looking straight at him. He approached a little further, keeping one eye open for sudden movement, until he was at what he considered to be the right distance. Very carefully he climbed onto a large boulder, pushed his staff into his backpack, and stood with his hands on his hips.

"Well, Worm are you going to hide all day?" His powerful voice echoed off the valley walls, startling the few crows that had braved this place. The amber eye disappeared behind the rocks.

A few moments went by, then a giant clawed foot appeared over the top of the rock, followed closely by another. Suddenly a hulking shape leapt onto and over the rock in one shocking movement and tons of scaled skin drove down towards him. In a blur of movement CulluC's hands pulled the hazel wands out of opposite sleeves and aimed them at the creature's rapidly approaching head. CulluC tensed himself for the blast and began to speak a word of command. The word died on his lips, astonishment, anger and mortal fear flashed across his face. A single word burst from his mouth and echoed in the gullet of the monstrous beast as its mouth closed around him.

"Flea..!"

Back in the cave, the fire suddenly spluttered and went out.

Phlay had never seen the fire go out before, it had been burning constantly since he had got here. He knew what it meant. Phlay went over and sat on his bed. Pulling out two hazel twigs, he smiled that smile again. CulluC, soon after Phlay's arrival, had told him a story about a fight he had had with a band of trolls.

CulluC had waited until the trolls were quite close, then pulled out a wand from each sleeve and blasted them to ash. Those wands were now in Phlay's hand, he could feel the magical energies within.

The two wands so carefully positioned in CulluC's sleeves were just plain hazel, swapped after the 'accident'. Of course, if he had handled them he would have known, but he didn't, not until it was too late.

Many months later a fisherman sat on his upturned boat gutting and cleaning his mornings catch. He was very surprised to find a splendid black ring in the belly of a large eel.

[Orignally published in Kimota 5, Winter 1996].

TROUBLE DOLLS.

by Suzanne J. Barbieri.

Every night Uncle Ray turned into a monster.

In the early hours, when her mother was sleeping, Anita would hear the creak of the top stair and the soft sigh of her door opening. The Ray Monster would stumble through the darkness towards her and pull back the covers, breathing alcohol fumes into her face.

Anita used to pretend to be asleep, in the hope that he'd leave her alone, but her slack face and limp body hadn't deterred him, neither had tears and struggles, so now she just stared at him, still and silent, defying him to go on.

He'd close his eyes so he couldn't see her watching his rank, heavy body crushing her; his dry stubby fingers pawing and poking, and his beery face smothering hers as the minutes ticked by; as if by not seeing, he'd somehow shift the blame.

The Ray Monster said it meant he loved her, and that their love was special and must remain secret. If she ever told anyone, she'd be taken away and locked up because no one would believe that a respectable man like Uncle Ray could love a hateful, ugly child like her. She was very lucky, he told her, to have the love of such a man.

After Uncle Ray had left her, Anita reached under her pillow for the matchbox. She pulled off the lid and took out the six tiny dolls. They were the only toys she had, and she'd saved up for weeks to buy them. She'd wanted a big teddy bear that she could cuddle, but she hadn't had enough money; hadn't had enough for any of the toys in the shop, except the Trouble Dolls.

"You tell them your troubles," the lady in the shop explained, "And they make them go away."

Talking to the dolls made her feel better. Telling them wasn't the same as telling a person, so she wasn't breaking her promise.

"I wish you could make him go," she said, "he says he loves me, but if that's love, he can keep it."

Ray took a beer from the fridge and turned the television on, keeping the volume low so as not to wake Maureen. He couldn't take another bout of her nagging. They were nothing but trouble, the pair of them, she and that daughter of hers. The house was a tip: clothes draped over the back of a chair waiting to be ironed, dirty dishes piled in the sink. He didn't know why he stayed; they were lucky to have him, and they knew it. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, then drifted into sleep.

At first he thought it was a power cut. The house was in darkness, and the television was dead. Ray tried to get out of the chair, but his limbs wouldn't move.

A dream, he reasoned, it must be a dream.

He laid there for some time before he tried to move again. Still his body was paralysed. What kind of dream was this? It felt more like death than sleep. Although he could neither see nor hear, he was aware of time pa.s.sing: seconds growing into minutes, minutes ticking softly into hours.

Six empty hours pa.s.sed before the first signs of day came. A strip of light appeared above his head, gradually widening to give Ray a glimpse of white ceiling. Then a hand came towards him: a huge hand; its fingers twice the length of his body. The hand gathered him up and laid him down on something soft and white.

He fell sideways and came face to face with a hideous, motionless form. Its crude features - black dots for eyes, a garish crimson slash of a mouth - were painted onto a mask of tightly wrapped pink wool. Behind the figure were five more, all dressed in bright colours, all staring blankly ahead. Ray screamed, but nothing came out.

The hand picked him up again, squashing him against the figures. Their woolly bodies pressed against his face, fibres filling his nose and mouth, and scratching his eyes which he could not close. He tried to push them away, but his arms would not move.

Once again Anita counted her dolls, touching each one and saying its name aloud.

"Elizabeth, Josie, Meg, Philip, David, John..."

There was an extra one; a little man dressed in grey.

Anita's face loomed over Ray for a moment before she replaced the lid of the box, sealing in the darkness. He heard her walk out of the room and close the door. There was nothing now but the cloying warmth of the dolls bodies. Clubbed hands pressed intrusively against his body; dry, woollen faces smothered his as the minutes ticked into hours; hours grew into days.

[Originally published in Kimota 5, Winter 1996].

THE EARTHLY PARADISE.

by Peter Tennant.

Automatic cameras track the rocket down. We watch it on the big screen in the bunker control room. It lands fifty miles to the west in the crater that used to be New Chicago.

"Grell," I say.

Julie nods. "Someone will have to go for help."

There are three of us in the bunker, four if you count Lieutenant Ferguson, but the dead don't count, not even now when they far outnumber the living. The Lieutenant had been wounded in a clash with a mutant pack five days ago and had died soon after we found the bunker. We'd put his body in the freezer. Julie's idea. Looters had stumbled on the bunker before us and taken most of the supplies. Ever the practical one, Julie had wanted something kept in reserve for when the food ran out. I wasn't sure if I wanted to still be around when that moment came.