The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

Death of a Troll


Jack was delayed when he discovered that he had to find a new barge, to get to the island. Both it and the goblin guards were absent and there would be hell to pay if he ever found them.
Now with a new barge a couple of goats and a team of guards following him in a small boat he made his way towards the hidden island.
The guards in the rear boat were all surprised that they never knew this part of the Palace existed.
Jack thought as much.
A mysterious consultant known only to the King had brokered the deal between the King and the Troll because it was suggested that if you ever needed the perfect guard dog get a Troll. Jack was also aware how much a secret the Golden Goose was. If the Troll didn’t have it’s contractual obligations met by the Palace then it would kill the Goose.
The island was also aplace of great misery for Jack, mot only for the slain giant but it reminded him of the missing Pinocchio, a brave little boy puppet who surely lost his life in the pursuit of the goose.
Jack had made his own special secret memorial on the island in his honour.
Poor Charming had so much to learn.
As Jack approached the Jetty the answer to the missing barge became evident and Jack’s senses went into overdrive.
There was either someone very brave or very stupid on the island and if they weren’t already dead he would threaten it to find how they discovered the secret it held.
Alighting from the barge and unloading the goats, Jack signaled to the guards not to come an inch further unless he gave notice.
Jack tentatively moved down the wooden pier , being cautious but not quiet, the goats had made sure that was impossible. Jack was half expecting the angry Troll to ambush him as punishment for late delivery, though the contract did allow for this.
Jack also helped draft the contract.
The island had become quite a paradise since Jack was last here and the Troll had done a marvelous job with his shrubberies and gardens. Evidence of the remains of the Giant’s body was really only noticeable to those who knew it was there.
Sadly Jack was one of those people, no matter how much this place was beautified to Jack it was still a graveyard.
Jack tied the goats to a sapling and decided to look further up the path himself where he came upon a very angry but weak Troll bleeding out in the middle of the path.
“You” It screamed at Jack “You broke contract”
The Troll scrambled towards Jack using its strong arms to drag it along Jack had noticed the beast’s legs were much shorter than normal.
What kind of thing could do this to a Troll? He thought as he easily dodged the scampering Troll. The Troll kept slashing its talons at Jack screaming legal anomalies with the contract and Jack kept dodging, after nearly a minute of this then sliced his axe right through the beasts skull. Separating its brain hemispheres.
Obviously he could next to no sense from the poor beast and it wouldn’t answer his questions of who did this to it.
Finally Jack decided that the Troll could no longer physically keep up it part of the deal and terminated the contract.
This at least gave him a chance to find the Golden Goose.
Since the Troll had changed the landscape some much with secret gardens and blind turns Jack wasn’t exactly sure where the Gooses pen was anymore. Thankfully a loud HONK to his left sorted that problem out.
Moving as quickly as he could in the direction of the sound Jack suddenly came face to face with what was to be one of stranger sights in his life, again featuring a large egg.

Standing in an open chook pen stood the Market Controller Humpty Dumpty. But Jack knew it was no longer the Fairy creature that he once was.
In one hand he held a book in the other he held the Golden Goose by its neck causing it great discomfort.
The egg seemed to be chanting something and just as Jack was to announce himself the egg took the goose and bit its head off.
An involuntary NO burst from Jack and the egg turned to face him.
It’s blood stained mouth opened wide across its cracked dome into a wicked smile.
It spat the gooses’ head at Jack, picked up the book and ran jumping over a small hedge into the river.
Jack scurried after it but had too many obstacles to even get near it.
When Jack finally made it to the edge of the island all he saw of Humpty was it’s large body floated down stream, a book in one hand the lifeless body of the Golden Goose in the other.

Many days later humpty was far away in a room in a place no one would find him.
In the middle of the room sat the book opened with ancient script writing itself upon its pages.
Humpty was in one corner the headless remains of the Golden Goose nestled on a pile of eggs. It’s body some how still functioning despite the inconvenience of no head.
Suddenly Humpty noticed the eggs under the goose shake and roll. The eggs were a grayish blue in colour almost the same tones as brain matter. Simultaneously three eggs cracked and small arms protruded. Humpty started clapping and laughing as three perfect replicas of itself scurried about the floor looking for food.
Humpty knew exactly were to find some, he’d just wait a little longer so more of his new children could join him.

Jack predicted bad things for the Kingdom.
With no visible financial security, a novice King, a population now totally distrustful and openly hostile towards Fairy folk. Anarchy wasn’t far away.
It all turned to hell when the Zombie egg army marched on the town.

To be continued.......In some form of printed version in the future Stay tuned.............

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

The Post Master's House


Jack’s suspicions wore founded when he arrived at the Post Master’s residence. The scene had changed little since the Post Master was there less than 48 hours earlier.
This included the note written in charcoal. On studying the scene Jack found small, very small pieces of egg shell, he made a mental note to check the door of the King’s chamber on his return. He had no doubt he would find more if looked hard enough.
Jack had an uneasy feeling about his snippets of information.
The egg was a problem. If he hadn’t seen it himself in the forest, he would never even consider it. The Market Controller was definitely dead, a market full of witness’ watching him smash into lots of small pieces testified to that. He must have be reanimated. A Zombie he thought they called it . Something Jack was aware of but thought was a ghost story mother’s scared their children with. Or did until all these goblins, gnomes and talking pigs and puppets showed up.
All these things didn’t add up.
What was the Post Master’s involvement?
Why did the King want him and who wrote the very un-Regal summons?
Zombies as far a legend goes, move very slowly and their brains function slower. The Egg in the forest could never get to the Kingdom that fast.
Plus if it did, it would be no contest for the King’s guard, why they could give the King’s troll a run for his money.
Then a terrible thought crossed Jack’s mind.
Jack rushed back to the Palace with his guard running confused behind him; Jack just burst out of the Post Master’s house in a sprint and didn’t stop till he found Charming
“Sire, do you know of the goose on the island?” he asked
Charming looked back at him blankly “I’m sorry?”
Jack was worried this might be the case.
“ O.K, where is the Financial Controller, even better yet, the Grand Vizier”
“Both were in the room with Father at the time of the incident” the new King said.
Jack grabbed the young regent with both hands on his shoulders. “Sire, when I come back we need to have some serious talks . OK?”
Charming nodded still confused to what Jack was talking about.
Jack fixed his axe onto his back quickly pointed to the biggest and meanest looking guards of high rank and ordered them to follow him.

Contract Matters


The Troll was tending his vegetables, slowly and steadily working himself into a fury,
The goats had not been delivered last night. This was a major breech of contract.
In contract was it not true; give them an inch they will take a mile.
Trolls, never ones to take disappointment well where even worse at accepting minor or safety clauses may have to played out in contracts.
The troll had already reread his contract twice and there was an allowance for late delivery under certain circumstances and a list was given under that clause that was acceptable to all parties. The first of these being the King’s death, the least being the boat was stolen. Still the Troll took it personally. Even though it was the first ever transgression in the history of the contract, the Troll felt slighted and intended on letting his grievances and displeasure known via the complaints clause that also existed in the contract.
While the Troll was thinking of reading the contract again he heard the familiar thump of wood hitting the jetty.
Are they going to get an earful. He fumed and moved to greet the King, something he rarely did.
You could imagine the Trolls surprise when he came face to face with the largest and angriest egg he had ever seen in his long life.

It took the Troll a split second to distinguish between a King proxy and an intruder.
Intruders don’t bring goats and the Troll attacked.
Breech of item one of the contract:
No one but the King or an authorized representative bearing goats may enter the island. All others will be assumed trespassers.

Trolls have an undeniable belief in their own abilities to beat or kill everything the fight against, this is probably their greatest failing and their greatest weakness.
The Troll move on Humpty was fast and furious but Humpty was faster and the Troll underestimating of the skinny arms sticking out the side of his domed body was also a mistake. Humpty surprised the Troll with the sheer strength he used to pick the Troll up and throw him into the river in one fluid movement.
Humpty then removed the Book from a pouch tied around his middle and began talking directly to it.

It’s over here down this path, yes , keep going The voice in Humpty’s head said now totally realizing that the Book had been his new friend from the beginning. It was now his master. A great master at that, who had told him the wonders of the world and had promised Humpty power greater than any King. All he had to do was follow.
Humpty’s belief in the Book was absolute and did its every bidding.
Ahh, there it….BEHIND YOU! The Book/voice in his head suddenly yelled.
The Troll burst through the shrubberies and with it’s powerful jaws and claws clasped on to Humpty’s lower body and leg.
Humpty threw the Book clear.
“AGGHHH, It hurts, it hurts” cried Humpty.
This had been Humpty’s real first challenge and he was unaware he could still feel pain like this.
You are stronger and you will beat him Said the Book, not as encouragement but as an order.
Humpty reached out took the Trolls torso in his hands and swung the lock jawed beast’s legs into his mouth where his powerful teeth chewed off the Troll’s legs below the knees.
The Troll let out a horrifying scream and Humpty used this opportunity to escape its jaws. Humpty collected the Book and continued to follow its directions.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

Jacks back

It took only 24 hours to track down Jack and bring him back to the Palace, it also cost the lives of two goblin guards who were instructed to retrieve him. Prince Charming should have realized that goblins may be fast but they lack the more subtle communication skills. When the slower human guards arrived the were just in time to explain things in better detail and avoid Jack employing some nasty home made interrogation techniques on the other four goblins he had captured.
Jack had always liked and respected the old King and knew he was a great leader because he could make the hard decisions for his Kingdom, like the Giant and goose episode.
Jack also knew how heavily it weighed on his mind.
His tolerance for the Fairy folk was always his weakness and now it looked like his softness had been his undoing.
Jack took up his position as Captain of the Elite Guard as if he’d never left.

Jack’s investigation


Jack stood in the shattered doorway leading into the King’s chamber.
The large auditorium had been left as it was found. Even the King’s remains were left as they were in total disregard to all royal protocols. If Jack was to do his job properly and gain as much fresh information as possible, it had to be that way.

Jack had already spent an agonizing thirty minutes with the Prince. The conversation – if you could call it that – ricocheted from his angry call to quickly find his Father’s killer, his remorsefulness over all the lives lost, his theories on the Dragon he believed was responsible and to how he was going to announce the tragedy to the Kingdom and that he was now the King. In between this , Charming managed to express nearly every possible human emotion ending it all with confusion and deep grief.
Jack liked the lad and knew he had a lot to bear before this was all over. Jack simply patted the boy on the shoulder and said
“Leave it to me sire”
The look of relief on Charming knew he had the new King’s confidence.

Looking into the room Jack had already deduced that this wasn’t the work of a Wyrm.
There were no scorching or evidence of scraping of the beasts leathery wings, usually noticeable signs of Dragon attack. Even though the room was large, Wyrm’s still had a large turning arc and much more things would have been damaged. For instance the chandeliers were all still intact and why had the door only been blasted out? How did the Wyrm enter?
No. This was some other being, entity or demon.

Jack moved amongst the bodies, covering his face with his cloth. Things had started to get a bit gamy. After ten minutes of seeing the same sort of carnage Jack was starting to think that a pride of lions had been released in the room.
Moving further around to the corners he came upon his first piece anomaly. Lying badly mauled but unlike most other victims relatively in one piece was a body dressed in black. It’s outstretched hand had written what could only be read as EGG.
Calling an assistant Jack asked if anyone recognized who this man was and why he was not dressed in court robes?
The assistant couldn’t identify the face because of its condition, so Jack searched through the body’s clothing and found papers revealing it to be the Post Master General. The assistant concurred that the Post Master was roughly this shape, size and build.
What an odd scenario Thought Jack and then noticed his assistant was not far from throwing up. Since the word EGG had reminded Jack of his humorous sighting the other day he thought he would lighten the mood by telling him about his run in with the Market Controller and hopefully make the assistant relaxed enough so not to contaminate his crime scene.
On relating the story Jack couldn’t help but notice the assistant becoming increasingly agitated and his colour changing to a paler shade of green.
“What now?” he said, thinking his stories aren’t that boring.
The assistant gulped and nearly in tears said.
“Sir, the Market Controller has been dead for three weeks”
Jack grabbed the assistant and led him out of the room.
“Guards” Jack called “We are paying a visit to the home of the Post Master.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

Slaughter in the Palace 

The King’s chamber was a blood bath.

And sitting on the King’s throne at the end sat Humpty Dumpty.
The Necromancer stood stead fast in shock. Humpty no longer consumed his victims whole, parts of them lay ripped asunder all over the large room.
Guards, Pageboys, Ladies in Waiting and Clergyman all torn to shreds and thrown to every corner.
Humpty sat staring at the Necromancer, the King’s regal garments draped over his skinny arms and the royal crown sitting lopsided on his rounded dome.
“So you got my message Post Master” said Humpty. His voice breaking the Necromancer from his wild-eyed stare.
“You speak” he replied after much fumbling for words himself.
“You showed me that Fairy meat sustains but never told me that human flesh makes me aware” Humpty said accusingly.
“I had no idea, I only did what the book showed me” whined the Necromancer “Where is the King?”
“The King is not your main concern, even though he was my main course” Humpty followed this with a small laugh to emphasize his little joke.
“I command you to stop, I command you to return to the docks” the Necromancer ordered, knowing it would be futile.
“You Post Master, are no longer my master. This is my new master” cried Humpty and from the cover of the King’s robes held up the Book.
“I knew the book was trouble” sighed the Necromancer as Humpty Dumpty’s long shadow fell over him.


The Necromancer, no, he was the only a Post Master and only ever was. He resigned himself to this fact and more importantly his impending death.
His broken body lay in a heap on the other side of the room where he stood prior to Humpty’s attack.
Even though he was in substantial pain the edge seemed to be taken off by the body’s natural pain defenses by flooding his body with endorphins.
What had he done?
Was this the price of revenge?
Why hadn’t Humpty killed him? Even eaten him?
Maybe he wanted his old master to suffer
Master. Now there was a strange conversation. He had heard Humpty talking as he walked away, leaving the Chamber.
“Why hide? Why rest?”
The Post Master had heard Humpty’s new booming voice protest.
“Oh well a couple of days won’t hurt” he added as if answering someone the Post Master wasn’t aware was in the room with them, at least alive.
With those last words Humpty smashed the doors of the chamber outward and left.
The Post Master wished only one more thing before he died. To scratch a warning to those who discovered this horror and he wrote it in his own blood.

The Aftermath

Prince Charming was now officially King, being the Regents only heir and the laws of the Kingdom and heraldry demanded it.
This, however was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.
His Father and entire court as well as royal personal guard and the night staff had all been slaughtered in the Palace and there was not a witness to explain naught.
Charming had concluded a Dragon. Only a Wyrm could be so swift and savage in such a small space and leave so little evidence of its physical presence.
Prince Charming was well learned.
Wyrm’s also liked gems and jewels and nice fabrics which could also explain the disappearance of the Royal robes and crown.
He needed serious professional help to revenge his Father’s tragic death and those of his subjects. Prince Charming called for Jack’s immediate reinstatement into the Elite Guard and sent his fastest troops to search the forest for him.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

 Lucky escape

Seeing the Market Controller earlier in the afternoon had really lifted Jack’s spirits and he realized he had cleared a lot more timber forest than he had expected.

“Funny how some good humour can make your day” he mused. So he packed up his axe earlier than usual to maybe have a read by the river in the late afternoon light.

This fortunate series of events was more than lucky for Jack, for no sooner had he left that a more determined and focused Market Controller passed by in a way that may have made a very suspicious Jack make an instinctive move to protect himself.

Humpty had changed.

Physically he still had the appearance of a large egg rolled in a dung pile but a look of fierce determination had replaced the vacant look of before.
Humpty just radiated menace.
Humpty had been “Enlightened”
He now made his own way back to the Kingdom with surprising speed; he had a new hunger, a new agenda, a new goal and most of all a new master.

After a few hours the Necromancer had become worried.
“What if things haven’t gone to plan?” he wondered and was now seriously thinking that it may be the case.
The Necromancer knew it would be pointless to look for Humpty if the Witch had bested him because the house would be invisible to his eyes and he’d be left walking around forest in the dark vulnerable.

He made the decision to abandon Humpty here and now, something he was going to do in the township anyway. This way at least if he was gone, he was gone. If not, it was a long way back home for Humpty, someone with no navigational skills save those of finding his mouth with his hands.

Either way his responsibility for the Zombie Dumpty was over, it was not how he would have preferred it to end, but he must get on with his life regardless of the fact that Humpty no longer in it.
Oh, how wrong he was.

Home again

Humpty ran through the night, his supernatural body resistant to fatigue. No one told of his passing because those who were silly enough to be out after dark and encountered him, whether Fairy or human never lived to see morning.
Lucky for the folk of the Kingdom Humpty came back to town late in the evening. The guards on the gate that night were not prepared for the zombie Dumpty juggernaut and the last they ever heard was a sinister laugh and the gnashing of teeth.
The Necromancer had been totally wrong of his understanding of Humpty’s directional abilities. Humpty made a beeline for the Necromancer’s house and more importantly the library.

The Necromancer had a miserable time coming back to the Kingdom, due to waiting for Humpty and his subsequent no show, he had left later than expected and had to make most of the journey in the dark meaning he didn’t pass the through Kingdom gates until after midnight.

The lack of guards seemed very odd considering the King’s latest decree.

The Necromancer entered without sighting anyone.
Riding through the empty streets the Necromancer thought how ironic it was that he felt safer now than ever before in these dirty fairy stained streets, while the rest of the Kingdom locked their doors in fear.

When the Necromancer arrived at home his feelings of security were well and truly trodden on as he was confronted by the sight of his front door smashed in.

Stepping carefully over the shattered wood that littered the stoop he peered inside. A trail of upturned furniture and smashed belongings led straight to his chamber.

“The Book” cried the Necromancer as he ran to the library. He stopped frozen in his tracks as he realised the Book of the Dead had been stolen.

Revelation
The Necromancer had found the Book of the Dead missing but in its place rested a piece of parchment bearing a one line of writing scribbled in charcoal from the fireplace read:

THE KING.  AUDIENCE.  NOW.

The Necromancer’s blood turned to ice.
Had he be found out practicing the dark arts?
Worse.
Had he been linked to Dumpty?
Lucky he Humpty wasn’t here, who knew what the Elite Guard might have done to him.
At least this way he could try to explain to the King himself.

So with a deep sense of dread and at a ridiculous hour of the morning the Necromancer made his way to the Palace.

Though the thought of bolting and finding somewhere to hide in the forest crossed his mind more than a dozen times, the Necromancer stayed himself with the undeniable belief that what he had done was natural justice. As well as that, he had worked out a couple of good “porky pies” as backup, the first that he had found the book in the garbage, or that the Egg just turned up at his house one day.

Either way he would first have to discover what he was accused of before blurting out excuses.

As he approached the Palace, even at this time of the night, activity seemed a lot less visible. Even though it was the King’s Palace it was also the administrative hub of the Kingdom and many people worked nights to prepare for those that worked with the King during the day.

The Necromancer just walked straight through the front doors with no one there to greet him or ask for his summons.
As he walked down the long great hall that is the entrance to the King’s chambers the Necromancer still encountered nobody but observed signs of struggle such as a moved rug or overturned table or stool. It wasn’t until he opened the grand doors to the King’s auditorium that things became clearer.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

Hello Humpty

For the first few weeks of his re-animation Humpty’s thoughts were extremely basic.

Eat, eat and stay out of sight when not eating.

Though his brain looked after all motor functions Humpty’s independent thought and history were absent. He had lost all personal identity when he was reborn.

Humpty understood simple instructions and knew how to keep out of harm’s way but in the general scheme of things all he wanted to do and think about was eat.

That was until recently.
A little voice had one day spoken to him deep down in the recess of his rotting brain.

First it was simple greetings like:
Hi, hello and good morning.
And simple pleasantries like:
How are you this morning? Good night and Well done when Humpty caught one of the remaining rats or trapped a gnome.

At first Humpty was confused and tried to locate the voice but in a short while he became comfortable with the pleasant voice and as time passed tried to communicate back in his own way.

Humpty had found a friend.

The Necromancer made no attempt to befriend, communicate or spend time with Humpty other than to let him out to feed most nights.
He saw Humpty as nothing more than a Fairy disposal tool.
What the Necromancer wasn’t aware of was that Humpty Dumpty was being subtly programmed by someone who understood the mechanisation of the zombie infinitely better than he.

What do we do with a problem like Humpty?

The Necromancer procured a wagon from the town council vehicle pool and collected Dumpty from the abandoned shed at the docks where he had been kept hidden these last few weeks. It was just before dawn but the Necromancer knew the King had ordered a higher number of soldiers onto the street recently, to deal with the spate of disappearances of Fairy folk and to stem the groundswell of rumours that he was suppressing the truth of it happening at all.

The Necromancer in his position of Post Master General may have influence over the Kingdom’s Council and bureaucracy but to the Military he was just another citizen, so he made certain all his papers were in order.

He still had a few of the Pied Piper’s enchanted rats to keep Humpty content for the journey, unsure whether going near or through a large Fairy population may set off a feeding frenzy or other such slaughter. Humpty was still an unpredictable force, so he had to be careful and hopefully a full egg would safe guard against accidents.

The Necromancer had no trouble leaving the town centre, as there were no alerts current and the gate guards were usually searching for illegal people and goods coming in to the Kingdom rather than out.
Humpty was surprisingly quiet on the trip through town and the Necromancer congratulated himself on his enchanted rat solution. What he wasn’t aware of was that the zombie Dumpty was listening in rapt delight to the stories being told to him by the voice in his head.
A story of a greedy King and a vicious soldier who slays a peaceful giant and how a special egg came to save the world.

The trip to the witch’s house was a good half-day journey and the Necromancer didn’t expect to arrive till about noon. This, by his calculations gave him plenty of time to achieve his mission and come home under the cover of darkness. It was a well planned trip the only down side was what he saw along the road as he travelled.
Fairy folk were everywhere, Dwarfs, goblins, gnomes, enchanted toys and animals. More than he could stomach and it took all of his will power to stop himself from running some of them over or worse still, releasing Dumpty from his covered wagon.
Not that Humpty Dumpty would have done anything. Humpty was lying down blissfully listening to the voice in his head recount great deeds of hero eggs and their adventures to be bothered with anything outside.

When the Necromancer finally reached his destination he made sure he traveled a little bit further up the road and waited with the carriage after releasing the zombie Dumpty. Even though these woods were sparsely populated it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be others who may implicate him later.
Caution was the Necromancer’s best ally.
It took the Necromancer such time and effort to rouse Humpty from his wagon that for a short while he actually thought Humpty may have gone into some sort of ovum coma. Let’s face it there was so much he didn’t understand about this creature he had bought back to life.
Something he would soon painfully realise.


To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

The book of Knowledge

The Necromancer closed the book and sat down, and joining his fingers in the shape of a steeple, stared intently at the leather bound tome in front of him.
Something wasn’t right.
The book had changed his life, brought him a wealth of knowledge and made him capable of amazing deeds, the reanimation of Humpty Dumpty probably his most remarkable, but lately he wondered whether he might have a problem on his hands.

The Necromancer – in his guise as Post Master General – had discovered the book in the Dead Letter Office earlier in the year on a routine search of valuables he thought may be worth keeping - one of the perks of the position. Still in its wrapping, the book had seemed to call to him and when he unwrapped it, as a lover of antiques its ancient leather and brass binding appealed to him on sight - it was only after he began to read the contents that it revealed it secrets.

The book translated every page for the Necromancer as he read them and when he was disturbed by some of his colleagues they actually believed he was reading another language. It seemed the book was only allowing itself to be read by him.

The only words that the Necromancer couldn’t read and the book wouldn’t translate were the heavy embossed letters on the cover. Any clues to its title inside the book were sadly missing.
After much searching in the King’s library the Necromancer discovered an ancient alphabet that Scholars had been working on but had abandoned.

After much guess work the Necromancer had concluded that the title must be the Book of the Dead, even though he wasn’t exactly sure.

It was this title and the secrets revealed to him about the rising of the dead that made him take his secret title The Necromancer. Plus it gave him an excuse to wear a big black robe and pointy hat without feeling silly.

Now dressed in said attire, looking at the book the Necromancer was worried because it had seemed to suddenly stop revealing any more pages to him. Even the ones he read earlier seemed to be hidden from his eyes. It was like the book was shutting down.

The Necromancer threw his pointy hat onto the book and left the large reading room to make some lunch.

Had he maybe used up all of its magic? he wondered and then his mind went back to thinking of his stomach, and how well a nice roast beef sandwich would hit the spot.

As he closed the reading room door he couldn’t hear the distinctive but muffled cackling laughter coming from between the covers upon which the hat now perched.

Jack of all trades

Jack swung the axe over his shoulder and made his way towards the stream. The midday sun had reached the perfect spot for him to escape the constant shadows of the mighty forest surrounding the Kingdom. The sun always felt good on his face after a morning of tree felling.

Jack led a good, structured life, one week marking and cutting down dying or diseased trees, the next reducing and splitting wood, the next hauling it into the town square in the Kingdom.

Just the right amount of alone time, good solid hard work and time spent in the hell hole of a market. The structured routine of his life was something he loved and inherited from the twenty odd years he had worked with the King’s Elite Guard. It was now embedded deep into his very soul.

He didn’t miss the constant danger and ridiculous orders at all, but the self-discipline he had learned made him who he was today. Responsible only to himself and that’s exactly how he liked it. Master of his own domain.

His solitary life was only rarely interrupted by the occasional visitor to the forest (usually lost) or when he went to market to sell his wood, and even then he often paid others rather handsomely to man his stall and sell his goods.

He didn’t really have any use for money, as his life was simple and uncluttered.
The woodsman knew of the Kingdom’s wealth and could have been as rich as the King if had wished, because Jack was the one responsible for the King owning the Golden Goose in the first place.

Jack’s axe was more than his work tool; in his past life as a member of the Elite Guard it had become Jack’s weapon of choice and earned him the unwanted title of Jack the Giant Killer from the King.

A moniker he wanted nothing to do with these days.

He knew he was a wanted man by the Giant community, lucky for him they were few and far away these days not being a clan to mingle with Fairy folk or humans.

He often thought of the sacrifice he had made for his King in killing the poor giant whose goose was the financial saviour of the struggling Kingdom. Admittedly, it wasn’t as big a sacrifice as the giant had made and to this day the body still lay where it fell.

The King needed bold measures to save the Kingdom from bankruptcy and Jack was a loyal subject. Still it wasn’t enough reason for him to leave the guard, that was a whole different matter.

When he had been unable to save an elderly woman and her grand daughter from the lies and deception of an enchanted wolf he was devastated. Their remains still haunted his dreams and he often stood outside the deserted cottage whenever he felt depressed to convince himself that things could be worse.
The whole episode reeked of conspiracy and was the nail in the coffin that made Jack resign his commission.

The Woodsman never forgot the look of despair on the face of the postman whose Grandmother and niece had been murdered or the white wash carried out by the King due to lack of evidence and prejudices against Fairy folk.

Jack felt powerless and thought about going after the culprit himself. As it was, the Wolf left the area and as Jack had lost the stomach for his work and took his pension and his guilt and retired to the forest.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

The King’s secret

It was long held opinion of those in fiscal circles that the Kingdom’s economy should have collapsed years ago with the influx of the Fairy creatures. The sudden and rapid population growth due to their immigration was more than the Feudal based economy could sustain. The Kingdom was small and surrounded by ocean on three sides and an impassable mountain range on the other what had been cleared for agricultural purposes and live stock over the years had been heavily forested after the emergence of the Fairy folk. When the Fairy folk came the Kingdom increased its import from the larger and much richer neighbouring countries.
The Fairy folk contributed little to the financial status of the Kingdom and generally bartered for goods with the humans or passed themselves off as entertainers as a means to support their kin. They were also a burden on the Kingdom’s social security budget.
But still the roads into the Kingdom continued to be upgraded and the Town prospered and grew outward as the Kingdom managed to meet its debts.
While the humans still tended their small farms and those that ran the markets lived in small cottages on the town perimeter, the Fairy folk were content to live in tree hollows, mushrooms and under bridges. One old lady moved her extended family into a discarded giant’s boot.
The secret to the Kingdom’s sustainable wealth lay hidden on a small island behind a heavily guarded part of the Palace.

Surrounded by armed guards all day and night on all boundaries, the island was accessible only by the King and then only via the royal barge.
The reason for this was due to the massive Troll that cohabitated the island with the secret. Due to a pact with the King years earlier the Troll was given free food and lodging to protect the secret and allow only his Royal Highness unlimited access anytime deemed necessary.

Trolls are a rare and vicious species and almost impossible to ambush but are happily bound by legal contracts that they pore over in meticulous detail before declaring their oaths. Quite surprising for a creature that looked like it would pierce its brain when picking its nose.
The King was never in doubt that the secret was safe on the island. Given a couple of goats a week, the Troll was more than content to idle his hours away growing shrubberies.

The King stepped onto the short pier which was almost obscured by tall weeds, careful to make sure the barge operator was the agreed 10 footsteps from the pier meaning the oarsman was sitting high up on the bow of the barge. If the oarsman was able to have his way he’d be on the other side of the lake still. The island gave him the creeps in a big way.

The King walked onto the island and past the Troll, both totally ignoring each other; (mainly because it was Monday and goat days were Wednesday and Saturday) the Troll weeding under some hedgerows hoping for some worms to dry out for a snack later.
The King made his way through the ornate arrangements and paths that the Troll had decorated the island with. He did a sharp turn at what appeared to be an extremely large rib cage rising up on his left (in actual fact it was) that had been converted into a shelter using sacks of hessian, instinctively stepping over what appeared to be a moss covered log. That was, in fact, a fibula once belonging to same giant who had owned the rib cage.
Moving on just a few dozen steps more the King came to a large enclosure in the middle of the island proper. Opening up the gate and then making sure it was secured behind him before he proceeded, the King stood stationary listening for a noise. A loud HONK made the King’s face light up and he moved across the large pen towards the sound.
Sitting on a shady patch of grass under a large willow tree sat a large pure white goose casually cleaning under its wing.
The King walked past the goose into the coop that obviously housed the goose. Reaching in and feeling around the King withdrew his arm, and there in his hand he held two large eggs that almost glowed so pure was the gold they were made of.
The secret to the Kingdom’s economical and financial wealth was the fact that King literally owned the goose that laid the golden egg.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

Prelude Part One

Murderer in the Kingdom

Jack had very reliable sources in the town market and this time he was sure he was going to get his man … animal … whatever… He was finally going to get the beast that had been eluding him for weeks.
The town was in a panic because of some rather gruesome murders in the kingdom. What made these murders the more disturbing was the fact that each crime was done in the victim homes after the murderer had been openly invited in.

Jack had been thinking of some sort of Fairy shape shifter. Heaven’s knows what these crazy creatures were capable of; the way they had become part of the Kingdom and the King’s acceptance of them was staggering. While most were harmless, every now and then something more sinister surfaced and this - thing - that Jack was now pursuing was one of the exceptions.

Jack led his men into the forest, not the safest of places now the seam had opened and others had started leaking through.

No one who came through knew how to return, thus the influx of Fairy people became a steady flow, with many a Kingdom dweller thanking the Gods that it was only the Fairy world that appeared to be connected.

Fears of the appearance of Dragons, Giants and Trolls were always being discussed in hushed conversations behind hands in the market square.

Dragons, Giants and Trolls, thought Jack, if only the people of the Kingdom knew the truth. Jack, being an important and high ranking member of the King’s elite guard was privy to probably more than any other living resident of the kingdom except maybe the King himself, and he had already done things he was not proud of for the survival of his home land and for his King. But those things were pushed far to the back of his mind as he prepared to hunt down his prey, the friendly killer as the locals had dubbed it.

Jack’s information had come from the Market Controller, a large egg type creature that had appeared several years ago in the first wave of immigrants from the seam.

He had been a novelty at first and till this day there had not been an appearance of anything like him.

He was unique.

The King took a liking to him and gave him a plum job controlling the traders at the market as a part of the new assimilation program for Fairy folk.

It was a role the Egg took on eagerly and it wasn’t long before Jack discovered that if the egg supplied information to the elite guard his other subtle indiscretions would be ignored.

Jack found the round, over dressed controller no more than a bullyboy and only ever acknowledged him when he had something Jack considered useful. The information on the killer was useful.
Humpty Dumpty - what’s with the stupid names wondered Jack – wouldn’t reveal how he got the information but hinted he had heard it on the grape vine. Jack was seriously thinking of going back and using a bit of pervasive force to extract the knowledge a bit later just for the fun of it.
There were still a few matters pending, like the disappearance of Pinocchio and who stolen the goose to settle yet.

As Jack approached the small cottage he positioned his men around the perimeter that way, if anyone was still inside they would be seen if they tried to leave. Jack himself was more than capable of taking on anything that may present any danger inside.
Silently sliding up to the front door he withdrew his axe from the holder that he strung across his back.
The last time he used his mighty axe in an act of violence it had earned him a new name from the King.
“Jack the Giant Killer”. A name he asked the King never to call him again if he wished him to remain in Royal service.
The memory still depressed him.
Moving closer to the door Jack noticed it was ajar and in one fluid motion burst in prepared for anything.
He knew immediately he was too late.
Slumped next to a bed at the far end of the one room cottage were the remains of a human, a girl by the looks of it.
A red cape had been discarded on a nearby chair, a popular fashion item for young women these days. On the bed were the bed clothes of an older person, but the person themself was nowhere to be seen. It looked like the killer only got one victim this time.
On closer inspection Jack found something positive about this awful scene, the killer had got careless. Though the girl had been mutilated in the usual manner, the bed clothes had traces of thick wiry hair all through them, indicating that the killer may have been interrupted and that this was no man, this was a wolf.
There could be no mistake. Jack had one of his men confirm it, a well-trained tracker who also said there had been another here - a human. And from the evidence presenting itself it looked like they had both run out and headed into the forest in the direction of the seam.

The seam or the gateway (it had so many names) was generally thought to be deep in the woods in a southerly direction from the Kingdom, but no one knew for sure, because the Fairy folk never remembered coming through it and no one on the Kingdom side had ever seen it. Jack and his men were not interested one way or the other in the seam just the murderer of the young lady in the cottage.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, original art by Simon Sherry