Frenzicus Meets a Squidithid: A Short Fantasy Story
An absurd fantasy showdown featuring an overconfident warlock, one very distractible imp, and a squidithid with terrible timing.
This is a humorous fantasy story, and it’s part of a monthly series of my previously published stories. This story was first published in Dumped the Wrong Stat (Nat 1 Publishing).
Beneath the humor and fantasy, this story draws on Lemurian teachings about ego, control, distraction, and the power of being fully yourself.
Frenzicus Meets a Squidithid
by Merdhin Wylde
Loquentius, with Frenzicus fluttering at his side, steps forward. His deep purple, high-collared robes billow behind him.
“Stand aside, good sirs. We are on a quest of utmost importance, and mere gatekeepers such as yourselves shall not hinder our path.”
A pair of armor-clad trolls with splotched green skin and matted braids stand guard at the towering gates of Subterramyst. They exchange a skeptical glance.
“What your business, warlock?” Their voices are as direct and pointed as their protruding tusks.
Frenzicus flings open his tattered leather vest, puffing out his chest. He takes flight, leathery black wings beating like a hummingbird on a sugar high. He swoops up, then nose-dives for a classic sneak attack, aiming for the guard’s helmet.
Releasing a high-pitched battle call, he veers off course, colliding with the troll’s weapon. The impact sends the war hammer flying, where it crashes onto the other guard’s oversized, hairy foot.
With a yelp of pain, the injured guard instinctively swings in an upward arc, aiming for Frenzicus, but instead connecting with his comrade’s groin. A groan echoes through the cavern as he doubles over, crashing through the entrance gate.
Loquentius steps over the guards with a smug smirk. “As I expected, our reputation precedes us. Onward, Frenzicus, to glory.”
Hidden beneath the Black Curtains mountains, twisted rock-hewn spires shimmer with naturally inlaid gems, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across Subterramyst. Merchants’ voices echo off rugged walls as they hawk their wares in the market square.
“Wow, this place is amazing.” Waving his arms over his head, Frenzicus flits from one vendor to the next. He stops at an array of glittering trinkets and hovers over a sapphire crystal bauble.
A gnome merchant in a red tunic and silk scarf smiles with a shrewd glint in her eye. “Welcome, my wee friend. A delightful imp such as yourself deserves only the finest.”
She dangles an expensive-looking emerald-like pendant.
Loquentius snaps a finger. “Focus, Frenzicus. We have a task to accomplish.”
Frenzicus hovers, facing Loquentius. “Why are we trying to stop the squidithid? And what’s a squidithid, anyway? Is it a big squid or something?”
“Must you bombard me with so many inane questions?” Loquentius pinches the bridge of his long, slender nose.
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just boost my intellect already. You could have given me the genius spell, but nooo.” He pushes out his lower lip in a mock pout.
“This again? My intelligence is more than sufficient to guide us through such a novice quest.” He turns with a dramatic sweep of his cape and a protracted sigh. “A squidithid is a dangerous and loathsome creature that must be stopped, simply because I, the great Loquentius, have declared it so.”
As they continue, Frenzicus falls behind, darting from one irresistible display to the next.
“Honestly, you’re more of a hindrance than a help. If you could focus for even a moment, perhaps we could make some semblance of progress. Your penchant for frivolity is truly exasperating.”
Frenzicus lets out a huff with quivering lips. “Gee, Loquentius, it’s tough sometimes, ya know? I try my best, but it feels like you’re always so mean to me. I’m just a little imp, after all.”
Loquentius arches an eyebrow. “Ah, ever the sensitive one. You need to understand, it’s distinguished individuals like myself who dictate the course of events. You should be more grateful to serve someone of my stature.”
The imp’s pout deepens, his tiny arms crossing over his chest. “But it’s not fair. I may be small, but I’ve got feelings, too, you know.”
Loquentius waves a dismissive hand, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Oh, Frenzicus, let us not delude ourselves. You are but a mere assistant. It’s only natural for someone of my intellect and power to assert dominance over one like you.”
“Just ’cause I’m small doesn’t mean I’m short on brains or skills.” A fire blazes behind his teary eyes. “You might have your fancy spells and big words, but I’m just as awesome as you, if not more.”
“You truly amuse me with your naive musings. My dear imp, you are but a mere speck in the grand tapestry of existence, whereas I am a paragon of intellect and power. There is simply no comparison, my diminutive friend.”
They proceed down the main street of Subterramyst. Everything seems normal, with the locals going about their daily business. But then, like a storm brewing, a sense of unease thickens.
Faces contort with snarls as the townspeople’s vacant stares zero in on their targets. Their movements are stiff and choreographed, like marionettes. With raised fists brandishing makeshift weapons, they chant, “Leave or die.”
Loquentius surveys the mob with his chin high. “What is the meaning of this?”
Frenzicus’s eyes widen in realization. “Lobotomus the Squidithid.” His whisper is barely audible over the cacophony of the mob. “He’s controlling their minds like puppets.”
Loquentius exchanges a glance with Frenzicus. “Something is amiss. They’re not acting of their own accord. Lobotomus is controlling them.”
Frenzicus ignores the comment and spreads his wings and arms wide. “Hey everyone. No need to freak out. We can totally be friends.”
Loquentius curses under his breath and yanks Frenzicus to the side. “Stop this nonsense before you get us killed.”
Frenzicus wriggles free. He flies to a loading dock to continue his speech but misjudges his landing and slams into a stack of crates. With a deafening crash, they topple over, spilling their contents onto the ground.
Alchemical potions of every color imaginable shatter upon impact, creating a volatile reaction. Gaseous rainbow-colored clouds roil through the mob. Vacant stares give way to expressions of confusion and bewilderment.
“Wow, Loquentius, that was a blast. Did you see how they exploded? Can we do it again?”
“A blast, you say?” Loquentius furrows his brow and readjusts his collar. “This is no game. Your reckless antics have no place in our quest. Let us focus on the task at hand and leave the theatrics for another time.”
“But Loquentius, why can’t we explore the city? I’m sure we could find some magical potions and ancient artifacts. Pretty please.” His pointed ears droop, and his round eyes plead like a puppy.
“We do not have time for frivolous distractions. Every moment wasted puts our plans at risk.”
“Can’t the stupid squidithid wait ’til later?”
“Enough, Frenzicus,” Loquentius snaps. “I will not be swayed by your childish whims. We have a destiny to fulfill, and I will not rest until I rule Subterramyst.”
He turns away and ducks into a tavern.
In a dimly lit corner of the bar, he sits hunched over a weathered map. The din of raucous laughter and clinking tankards surrounds them, but he pays it little heed.
A succubus waitress saunters over with a sultry smile, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders. “Care for a drink? You look as thirsty as I feel, honey.”
He dismisses her with a wave of his hand.
“Are you sure, darling? I have a special concoction that’ll wet your whistle.”
“Kindly leave me be. You will not be wetting my whistle today.”
With puffy pursed lips, the succubus shrugs and sashays away.
“Honestly, why must they insist on bothering me with their incessant flirtations?”
Frenzicus lands on the map. “I want a drink that wets my whistle. It sounds fun.”
Loquentius shoos him away. “Please, we are not here to indulge. We cannot afford to be sidetracked.”
With sluggish flaps of wings, Frenzicus drifts around the tavern, whining. “Can’t be sidetracked. Don’t indulge. Can’t have fun.”
A grizzled dwarf slams his pint of ale on a table. “Oi, keep that pesky imp away from me drinks, will ya?”
Loquentius lets out an exasperated sigh. “I implore you all to cease your prattling. I’m concentrating here.”
Frenzicus hovers over the map. “Loquentius, what if Lobotomus has traps set? What if he has an army waiting for us?”
“I assure you, I have taken every precaution necessary to ensure our success. Do not let fear cloud your judgment. Now please, shush.”
Frenzicus mutters under his breath, “Maybe if you weren’t such a grumpy old warlock, we’d have some fun once in a while.”
“I heard that. You would do well to remember your place and show respect for your master.”
He rolls up the map and stuffs it in his robe pocket. With Frenzicus in tow, he exits the tavern and veers off the street into a tunnel hidden behind vacant shops.
Frenzicus sneezes, the musty scent of damp earth tickling his nose. “Where are we going?”
Loquentius forges ahead. “Our quest is unchanged.”
“But this place gives me the creeps. How do you know which way to go? Are you sure you’re reading the map correctly?”
“Yes. Now keep moving and hold your tongue.”
“Are we there yet? Are you sure this is the—”
His words are cut short as Loquentius’s robe snags on a protruding rock engraved with a swirling rune. The ground churns and shifts as the walls contort and reshape themselves into a labyrinth of twisting passages.
“Uh oh.” Frenzicus spins in place.
“This is your fault.” Loquentius jabs an accusatory finger. “If you hadn’t been distracting me with your infernal chattering, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Frenzicus buzzes in and out of the new tunnels until a faint glimmer of light catches his eye. “Hey, Loquentius. I found a way out. We’ll find the squidithid in no time.”
“Of course, we will. My superior navigational skills always lead us true.”
With a dramatic flourish of a voluminous sleeve, Loquentius beckons Frenzicus to follow. “Onward to victory.”
They emerge from the winding tunnels into a vast cavern that seems to stretch on forever. Its towering walls, adorned with cryptic markings, pulse with an eldritch glow.
“At last, we have reached the inner sanctum.” Loquentius surveys the scene, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk. “We shall strike swiftly and decisively. Lobotomus will rue the day he crossed paths with the great Loquentius.”
The colorful runes etched within the cavern walls draw Frenzicus in. His giggling echoes as he bounces from one glowing glyph to another.
“Hey, check this out.” With each hop, the symbols flare, shooting beams of shifting colors. “I bet I can make them glow even brighter.”
“Be careful. These runes are imbued with potent magic, and your recklessness could result in dire consequences.”
“Why can’t we enjoy ourselves while we’re here? Who knows? Maybe Lobotomus isn’t all bad. We could be friends and play here every day.”
“Nonsense, you have lost your mind. We are not here for a play date.” He steps to the center of the lair at the base of a raised dais, upon which sits a throne.
A booming voice reverberates from a side tunnel. “Who dares to desecrate my lair?”
Lobotomus emerges from the veil of darkness, his writhing tentacles gripping the neck of the human corpse he uses as a host. He climbs the dais and reclines on the throne forged from the bones of his fallen enemies.
“Ah, if it isn’t Loquentius, the illustrious warlock, gracing me with his presence.”
Frenzicus hovers silently in a corner of the vaulted ceiling. He places a finger within inches of a rune but hesitates, not wanting to draw attention.
Loquentius rolls his eyes and straightens his collar. “Oh, how kind of you to notice. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of my magnificence.”
“You delude yourself. If only your spells were as flamboyant as your wardrobe, perhaps you would be worthy enough to stand in my presence.”
“Truly, your squirming mass is the envy of every gelatinous cube in the realm.”
Lobotomus extends a tentacle. “You dare mock me, warlock?”
Streams of light writhe from the gleaming symbols along the wall. They snake behind Loquentius, mimicking the twitching tentacle. They weave around him like transparent chains, binding his arms and legs.
“What nerve to try your parlor tricks on me.” Loquentius strains against the bonds but finds himself unable to move. “I do adore intellectual repartee, but clearly, you are not up to the challenge. It’s almost painful, really.”
Lobotomus flicks another tentacle, guiding a beam of light over Loquentius’s mouth, sealing his lips. “Now, let’s have a look at that genius mind, shall we?” Lobotomus’s gaze bores into Loquentius’s forehead, ensnaring his thoughts.
Powerless to cast a spell or utter a retort, Loquentius darts his eyes around the chamber, trying in vain to catch the imp’s attention.
Frenzicus, distracted by the allure of the flashy runes, remains oblivious. He floats in a trance-like state, licking his lips and wringing his hands.
Lobotomus runs a tentacle across Loquentius’s cheek, releasing the gag. “Well, well, well. It seems even the mighty warlock is not immune to my powers.”
“You may have bested me for now,” Loquentius says through gritted teeth. “But mark my words, this is not the end. When I break these bonds, your reign will end.”
“Ah, the bravado of a defeated foe. How quaint. But rest assured, your defiance only serves to amuse me. You are nothing but a pawn in my empire.” With a sweep of a tentacle, Lobotomus ensnares Loquentius further in his psionic grip. Loquentius stares blankly ahead, eyes clouded over.
“I am your master now, little one.” Lobotomus redirects his attention to Frenzicus. “Your allegiance belongs to me. You will do my bidding without question or hesitation.”
“You’re not the boss of me.” Frenzicus cowers in a corner.
Loquentius turns his cold, vacant gaze to Frenzicus. “You insolent fool. How could you defy the will of Lobotomus?”
A sudden flash of light distracts Frenzicus. He darts toward the source, a shimmering gold symbol on the floor.
“What’s this?” Frenzicus exclaims as he inspects the intricate design. “And what about that one over there? Why are they here? What do they do?” He jumps from one symbol to the next, his questions tumbling forth in rapid succession.
“Mind your manners, imp,” Lobotomus snarls. “Those symbols are not for your amusement. Touch them not, lest you invoke my wrath.”
“Whoa.” Frenzicus stops cold and points upward at a large ruby orb embedded in the center of the ceiling. “What is that? How does it stay up there? What does it do?”
Lobotomus leaps with flailing tentacles off the throne. “Foolish imp, your tiny mind couldn’t possibly grasp its significance. Keep your distance.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so. That’s why.”
“Why do you say so?”
“Because I am the supreme ruler of Subterramyst.” He lashes his tentacles like whips, focusing his energies on Frenzicus.
Loquentius shakes his head, clearing clouds from his eyes. “Enough questions, Frenzicus. Help me out of these.”
Frenzicus weaves, ducks, and pivots, dodging the onslaught of appendages. He evades getting swatted against a wall when he swoops toward the ceiling, executing his signature sneak attack. A reflection in the giant ruby orb distracts him, interrupting his dive. His finger reaches out, succumbing to the overwhelming instinct to push it.
The foundations of the throne room tremble. With a deafening rumble, the ceiling cracks, and the walls crumble, causing the cavern to collapse in upon itself.
As the dust settles on the ruins of the lair, Frenzicus finds himself seated upon the bone-laden throne of Lobotomus. The tunnels echo with the heavy footsteps of troll guards as they enter with weapons raised.
“Seize the imp,” Lobotomus commands.
The trolls hesitate, exchanging uncertain glances, before one of them speaks up. “But he on the throne.”
Lobotomus’s tentacles flail. “Do as I command, you imbeciles.”
The largest guard slaps his helmet. “Stop that. Why you keep tickling our brains? Little bird master now.”
The other troll guards stand at attention, glaring at Lobotomus. They turn their weapons on their former master and clasp his tentacles in shackles.
Frenzicus perches on the back of the throne and spreads his wings. “Looks like you’re not the big boss anymore, Lobotomus.” He turns with a wide grin. “Or you, Loquentius.”
The trolls march to the base of the dais. They pound their chests and kneel on bended knees. “All hail Frenzicus, the Squidithid Slayer.”
“I can’t believe this nonsense.” Loquentius scoffs and wipes dust off his sleeves. “A dim-witted imp with the brain of a pebble, ruling Subterramyst? Preposterous.”
Arms crossed, Frenzicus says, “Preposterous maybe, except for one thing.”
“And what is that, pray tell?”
Frenzicus wrinkles his nose and points an accusatory finger. “You might have your fancy spells and big words, but I have the throne.”
You can read more of my stories on the Abundance Living Resource page.
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