Chapter 6, Part ii

 Lilly knew that Hector had hid behind the log. She tried her best not to let her fear show as the enslaved Tove stalked closer and closer to his hiding-spot. The human who had captured them was saying something, but Lilly wasn't paying attention to him; her eyes couldn't leave that deadly creature as it scented the air.

It leaned over the log and spotted him. Even as it coiled up to pounce, Lilly ignited her Gyre and shoved a hard ball of air as hard as she could at it. The Gyre struck the Tove in the small of the back, which sent it tumbling over the log. There was a sudden tumult as their captor cried out, and two of the slaves seized Lilly by the arms. They pulled her to her feet, and the Mome Rath human rudely grabbed her snout with his gloved hand. She tugged her head this way and that, but he squeezed until her eyes watered with pain as his fingers dug into her sinuses.

“You insolent cur! We'll have your Gyre first, so you can't go about causing trouble with it! How does that sound to you?”

Against her will, Lilly whimpered, then hardened her face and growled deep in her throat as the horrible human chuckled. “Let's see how feisty you are when you join our ranks, eh?”

But suddenly, there was a bright flash of light from behind, from where the de-slithed Tove had fallen. The air was filled with a rush of crackling sounds, and a strange energy that made Lilly's ears twitch madly. The Mome Rath's anger was gone, replaced by dumbfounded shock as he stared over Lilly's shoulder. His hand now slack, she twisted her head around to see.

*

The black-clad creature lay still in the center of the circle that Hector had drawn. He blinked his eyes to clear his vision from the bright flash that had followed his incantation from the Manxor Slithe. In an almost embarrassing silence, Hector shifted closer and poked the inert assailant on the shoulder.

The Tove moved. With a slight groan, it shifted and slowly pushed itself up from the ground. It said something in the Tovish language, and Hector realized that it was a woman. She pulled herself to her knees and rubbed her head, and upon finding that she wore a hood, pushed it back and blinked in confusion.

(Graphic 6.4: The Tove is the same one that Professor Trellis had revealed when Aric was captured for the first time. Hector is pleasantly surprised.)

“Hello,” Hector couldn't help saying. The Tovish girl – for she did seem to be but a girl, much younger than Lilly – blinked again and squinted at him.

“Who are you?” she said groggily.

“A friend. Do you have your Gyre?” Hector quickly asked.

The girl's mind seemed sluggish. “My... Gyre? I...” She shook her head, closed her eyes and spread her gloved hands out on the ground. A faint glow surrounded her whole person for a moment, then vanished. She opened her eyes and looked at Hector triumphantly. “I do. I do! I can feel the earth again!”

Hector smiled, but before he could respond, another Tove leaped over the log and tackled him. Then, even before he could scream, his attacker was ripped away; Hector scrabbled for safety and tried to make sense of the situation.

“Free him!” grunted the girl as she held an arm tightly around the other Tove's neck. “Quickly! As you did to me! Free him!”

“Oh. Right!” Hector stammered, and raced to draw another circle around the two of them as they struggled together. He quickly closed the two edges and drew the corresponding runes at the right points, just like the diagram in the book indicated, then tried his best to pronounce the key phrase exactly when the girl planted her foot on her opponent's back and jumped out of the circle.

Even before he had finished the final word of the spell, the circle in the dirt glowed a fierce white, and the glare blasted skyward. It hung in the air for a moment, like a shimmering, circular wall, and then collapsed in a blinding flash upon the figure in the center.

Hector blinked, rubbed his eyes, and coughed. Clearing the dust from his eyes, he watched in awe as the would-be killer slowly came to his senses. Just like the girl before him, the Tove mumbled to himself and stood on shaky knees. He groped about his own person, then vehemently tore the black robe away. He gripped it with his teeth and shredded the thing to pieces, casting the hated cloak on the forest floor and snarling at it. He wore no shirt underneath, only a pair of black Mome Rath trousers. This Tove, a young male, had brown, bristly fur like Burr, except for a white patch in the middle of his chest and a whitish muzzle. He stared at the girl, then at Hector, with a straight-shouldered bearing that was at the same time controlled and feral.

He said something that Hector didn't understand. He repeated it angrily, and when the girl realized that he didn't understand, she said something to the young man in Tovish. He nodded and a toothy, savage grin split his face. He faced the rest of the Tovish slaves – who had stood inert while their companions had gone through their change – and Hector saw the human Mome Rath quail.

“Let's get outta here,” he cried to his servants, and turned to flee. The remaining five Toves followed suit, dragging the thrashing Lilly, Aric and Tom with them.

“Lilly!” Burr shouted. As one, Trisha, Aric, and the two Toves took off after the Mome Raths while Hector stumbled along in their wake. In a matter of seconds, Hector's companions tackled two of the de-slithed Toves and pinned them to the ground. Tom spilled to the dirt, free from his captor, but and Lilly were scooped up and spirited away into the gloom.

“No!” Tom yelled, and made as if to follow them, but the girl Tove grabbed him by the collar and held him in place.

“Do not follow them! We will rescue them by and by,” she reassured him.

“Who even says 'by and by' any more?” Tom complained, but didn't give chase. She released him.

Trisha watched with interest as Hector hastily sketched the ritual circles around the squirming black thralls. “Jump out when I say rjaklie,” Hector warned her, and Trisha nodded with wild eyes. He quickly opened the book, cleared his throat, and spoke.

“Manxori geoseg slaethia gyraes rjaklie!” he pronounced, and snapped the Manxor Slithe shut with a flourish. Trisha and the male Tove leaped away just as the brilliant lights exploded once more from the ground. For some reason, watching the swirling white glow implode inward gave Hector an immense feeling of happiness.

In the silence that followed, the girl and the brown-furred man pulled back the hoods of the freed Toves. The four of them talked sensibly in Tovish, and rose to their feet.

“So... they're not going to try to kill us any more?” Trisha asked warily, glancing suspiciously at the creatures. Hector shook his head confidently.

“Nope! I've given them their Gyres back. They're our friends now, just like they should be.”

Trisha didn't seem so sure, but she refrained from attacking them. Aric appeared at Hector's side and brought his concerned face close. “Hec, what did you do? How-- I don't get it. I've studied that process for ages. How did you give them back their slithe?”

“Oh, that?” Hector shrugged and flipped open the page with the circular diagram that he had used. “It's right here. See those runes at the top? They say 'How To Restore the Gyre to the Tove.' It's actually right there on the table of contents.” Aric blinked absently at Hector, then shook his head.

“Whatever. I'm just glad it worked. No wonder the Mome Raths were looking for that blasted thing.”

“You, book-bearer, thank you for freeing us,” said the brown-and-white Tove to Hector. His accent was strong and unused to speaking Humish, but his voice was firm and commanding. “We would like to have our revenge on the evil ones. Will you aid us?”

Hector nodded, but carefully added, “Well, they're not strictly evil, per se, not all of them; it would be rude to jump to the conclusion that--”

“He means yes,” Trisha said, with her hand clamped over Hector's mouth. The four Toves cheered out loud at the prospect.

“It's good to have them on our side,” Aric quietly mused behind Hector and Trisha. He stepped forward and caught everyone's attention. “Hey, listen up! Feel free to cause as much mayhem as you want. But we need the golden sword so we can stop the Jabberwock. Hector, you go with the Toves and give the others their Gyres back. Make sure they don't do anything nasty to Burr or Lilly, okay? And Trisha and Tom, you're with me. We're going after Professor Trellis.”

“What about River?” Hector asked. “He's not going to let us stop the Professor.”

“You let me worry about River,” Aric smirked, and poked himself in the chest with his thumb. “All right, let's go! We've no time to lose!”

*

Before the Mome Raths even noticed that something was going on, Hector's squad of Toves had already taken down three de-slithed sentries. One of the humans, who was standing in a large circle with this companions, had the sense to turn around and raise the alarm.

Hector completed the fourth ritual circle and chanted the right words, and in a flash of light another Tove was restored to his normal self. But before he could stand up, a half-dozen guards piled on top of them both. Hector shielded his face with the Manxor Slithe and didn't catch much of what happened next, only that there was a lot of snarling and yelping involved. When the air cleared – except for the alarmed shouts and oaths of vengeance from the freed Toves – Hector scrambled to his feet and started drawing more circles.

“Stop him! Don't let him draw those circles!” A human was shouting frantically somewhere. Hector found himself having to flee rather than continue, because of the droves of black-robed servants that singled him out. They leaped over each other and shoved freed Toves out of the way just to get closer to him. Hector slammed the book shut and held it close to his chest as he turned and sprinted through the forest to escape. He tried his best to stay close to the action so he wouldn't get separated from his companions, and for the most part they were able to hold off or take down the pursuing attackers.

Then, suddenly, a shadowy form dropped from the trees and landed heavily right in front of him. Hector stumbled to a halt and turned around, but his Tovish friends were occupied elsewhere. Another de-slithed character came up behind him, then another and another and another. Soon he was completely surrounded, and the thralls moved inward and closed off the circle. There was no escape.

“Heh, do any of you like to read?” Hector laughed nervously.

Without speaking, one of the robed figures lashed out and tore the Manxor Slithe from Hector's grasp. In the blink of an eye it vanished again into the forest.

“Hey, stop!” Hector cried after it, but the rest of the Toves closed in and latched onto him. “Let me go! I need that book! Let me--”

There was a fluttering sound, a high-pitched screech, a muffled thump and a yelp. Hector found himself being roughly tugged around in his cage of Toves as someone or something attacked the group. In the rush and chaos of the fight, Hector caught a sight of the intruder from between the shoulders of his captors. “Jubjub!” he shouted with joy, for it was the Jubjub bird. It gripped the hooded guards with its serrated beak and with a jerk of its neck sent them flying. He took a breath to shout, but a gloved hand covered his mouth.

“I'm handsomer than you!” shouted the bird, and whacked its large beak against a Tove, sending it sprawling to the ground. “And you--” whack “And you--” whack “And you!” Whack!

Soon, the bird was joined by several freed Toves, who ripped at their enemies with startling ferocity. Many of the enslaved Toves fell, but Hector was still held captive; they lifted him off the ground, put him in a headlock and quickly spirited him away into the glowing forest.

Hector didn't know where they were headed, but the sounds of battle grew quieter and farther away. All he could see beyond the black robes were the passing trees with the glowing Gimble writings on them. Suddenly the trees came to an end, and Hector was dropped like a sack of potatoes onto the hard ground. He caught his breath and tried to stand up, but a long, sharp knife was pointed at his throat.

“Ah-ah, I wouldn't move if I was you,” said the plump Mome Rath at the other end of the dagger, with obvious pleasure. Obediently, Hector kept completely still. His heart was pounding mercilessly against his ribs until he thought it might explode. He carefully looked around, then gasped in horror.

In two separate ritual circles – each ringed with various objects lying on the ground – were Burr and Lilly. Each was lying spread-eagled, face-up, with their wrists and ankles pinned to the ground with vines that had sprouted straight from the earth. A strange blue paint covered their temples, neck, and chest, just like Aric had described before. Burr struggled heroically but without any result, while Lilly's eyes were wide and sorrowful as she met Hector's gaze.

“No!” Hector shouted, and the knife was suddenly pressed against his throat.

“Mr. Blithe, I really do suggest that you don't move,” said the fat Mome Rath. “Why don't you just relax and enjoy the show?” Hector swallowed, and the movement made the knife shift against his skin. He began sweating profusely. He realized that there were many Mome Raths gathered around, and they were talking excitedly as they pointed at Lilly, Burr, and even Hector. A few of them even laughed. Strangely, Professor Trellis was not to be found among them.

There was a crunch of boots against the ground as somebody approached the two circles. “Well, well, well,” said the man in the boots. He stood before Hector, with his back to the Toves. His face was thin and pallid, his gray hair was swept back in a neat ponytail, and he had a neatly trimmed goatee that bobbed when he spoke. “Well, Mr. Blithe, at last we meet. My name is Doctor Virchuk. I will be in charge of this little procedure today. Normally we accompany these rituals with much ado and pomp, but I'm afraid that this is not exactly the occasion nor the venue to so extravagantly expend our time. So we will be frugal out of necessity, and begin the process at once.” Doctor Virchuk lifted a finger to beckon somebody closer, but Hector interrupted him.

“Why are you doing this, Doctor? Why prey upon the Toves? They're people too!”

Doctor Virchuk motioned to Hector's guard, who refrained from doing something nasty to Hector with his knife. “My dear friend Hector,” said the Doctor. He squatted down and placed a hand gently on Hector's shoulder. His face and clothing were that of a kindly psychiatrist, but there was a mad gleam in his eye that unsettled Hector. “You claim that they are people. And they most likely are. They do have language, and a culture of sorts, and they are certainly rather anthropomorphic, if I do say so myself. But I'm afraid very little of that actually matters, at least not to me or to my colleagues here. They are most useful for our various projects and experiments, due to their closeness with nature. And so we use what has so graciously been supplied to us, and we use them as fuel.”

“You're a heartless monster, and that's saying a lot coming from me,” Hector said. He tried to pull off his best sneer. “How would you feel if somebody did that to you?”

“They wouldn't dare,” the Doctor said simply. He smiled, patted Hector on the cheek, and stood up. “I think we will give the honor Officiator of the Ritual to one of our newest members. Mr. Gribley, if you would so kindly step forward...”

To Hector's despair, out from the crowd came the spindly figure of Eugene Gribley. The man looked somberly at the Doctor through his glasses – his eyes magnified to several times their normal size by the thick lenses – and dipped his head.

“Y-yes, sir?”

“Take this,” said the Doctor, and handed him a book. It was not the Manxor Slithe. “Mr. Gribley, have you ever performed the Slith-Chora ritual upon a live Tove?”

“N-no, sir.”

The Doctor nodded patiently. “It is very simple, really. All it requires is a certain incantation. If you will please open to page two hundred and seventy-three, paragraph the second, subsection A.” Gribley obeyed with trembling fingers and turned the pages until he found the mentioned page. He looked up at Virchuk with nervous subservience. “Now, Gribley, all you must do is read that loudly and clearly. Come, stand over here, by the girl. We'll do her first, then the brown one. Then we'll take care of the librarian.”

“No! Get away from her!” Burr roared, so loudly that his voice broke. He thrashed with renewed vigor against his bonds and snarled viciously. “Stop it! Get away! Do it to me first!” Lilly, in contrast, was lying completely still. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing calmly and slowly.

“Ignore him,” Doctor Virchuk said offhandedly. Gribley was sweating visibly. Virchuk pointed at the correct phrasing in the book, teaching Gribley the correct pronunciation, but nobody could hear for the cacophony that Burr was raising. Hector moved to crawl closer to Virchuk and Gribley, in hopes that he might be able to do something to stall them, but the man with the knife stepped on his thigh and held the knife's edge firmly against his throat. His neck had never seemed so soft and vulnerable before.

“I been sharpening this all day, and I'm achin' to use it,” the Mome Rath hissed. Hector's elbows gave out and he fell onto his back. His limbs felt drained of strength. What hope did they have? Lilly and Burr had been captured and soon would be mindless slaves. The Manxor Slithe and the vorpal sword were both in the hands of the Mome Raths. The Jabberwock was about to wake up, and the world was about to be destroyed or enslaved. Had all their work been for nothing?

Once he was confident in Gribley's abilities, Doctor Virchuk stepped away and folded his arms as he watched. Tears flew from Burr's eyes as he clenched his teeth at protested. Gribley took a breath to speak, but hesitated when somebody said: “Excuse me, I'm sorry, I just can't stand the noise any more.” The voice's owner appeared from the crowd.

It was River.

The handsome Tove confidently entered Burr's witch-circle and made a show of placing his pawlike foot on Burr's chest. “Burr? Do you see where my foot is? It's at that special point just below your ribs. If you make a single peep, I'll push down, and it will cause you immense pain. Do you understand?”

Burr burned a hole in River with his red-rimmed eyes, but he didn't nod. He did, however, stop shouting and struggling. His limbs trembled with fury. River smiled smugly and folded his arms.

“River?” Hector heard Lilly say quietly. She looked up at him with moving sadness. He acknowledged her casually and examined his sharp nails.

“Oh. Hello there, Lilly.”

Lilly's breathing quickened as she pleaded with him. “River, what has happened to you? How can you do this to me? How could you do this to anyone?” Lilly's breath caught in her throat as she tried to speak. Everyone was silent, even the jeering Mome Raths. “River... I love you. And I thought you loved me back.”

River didn't look up from his black nails, and didn't speak. Lilly continued in a quiet voice that, in the silence, seemed to echo through the entire forest.

“I do not understand what is going on. I do not know why you have done what you have done. But whatever your motives are, you can still help us stop the Jabberwock. If you don't, it will destroy everything you ever cared for. Please, River. Listen to your heart. Do what is right.”

“You're right, Lilly,” River said suddenly. He clenched his fist and looked at her fiercely. “You're right. You don't understand. I have lived my life feeling powerless. Not just as an individual, but as a race. I felt powerless as a representative of our kind, Lilly; of all Toves. The humans were taking our land, and slaying us left and right at their pleasure. I want to save our people.”

“How are you saving us?” Lilly moaned. “By killing us? By betraying us? By betraying me? Taking our livelihood and our Gyre, and enslaving our minds? How is this saving our people, River?”

“All the Mome Raths need is our Gyre, Lilly!” River thundered. He seemed oddly reactive. “They don't need to take our lives! But if we resist them, they will kill us all! Better to be alive than dead, right?”

Lilly panted with emotion, then spoke again in her quiet voice. “River. Do you remember when we were children? When we used to pretend that we traveled to the humans' homeland, and make friends there? We used to play that we could learn from them and they could learn from us. And there were no wars, no killing, and no hatred. All was peace. Do you remember those days? Or have you forgotten them entirely?”

“Child's play, Lilly, it was child's play,” River emphasized, bordering on rudeness. “It had nothing to do with real events. You and I both feared the humans, as did every last Tovish soul in Noosta and in every other Borogrove. There is no middle ground, Lilly. There is no peace. Where there is difference, there will always be inequality, hatred and fear. I have taken the sensible route. The only sensible route. And now it's my turn to ask you: it's not too late to make the right choice. Will you join us? You can keep both your life and your Gyre. Just come with us and we can forge a new world where we will be respected and honored, not hated and hunted. We can be together. What do you say?”

Lilly looked straight up into the green canopy. The fur around her eyes was soaked with tears. She slowly closed her eyes and released the breath she was holding.

“I cannot. I am sorry, River.”

“Give me her Gyre,” River spat, and settled his foot on Burr's chest. The Mome Raths erupted into cheering, and Eugene Gribley opened the book with quivering hands. Hector clenched his fists in agony as he watched Gribley take a breath.

“Manxori tusor zogiea slaethia gyraes mofosis... urosa!”

(Graphic 6.5: Gribley finishes the incantation. A bright light bursts from the witch-circle and envelops Lilly; part of the light flies toward River and strikes him. The light fades.)