Why Me?

Crymzon stared blankly at the newcomer.

"You are a figment of my imagination. Actually, you are a figment of someone else's imagination and I don't think my scarred mind can cope with you right now. I don't mean to be rude but go and find your owner."

"But ..."

Crym just shook his head.

"But I have enough to deal with at the moment and I don't need you making things more complicated. I have a plethora of writers that are about to be in very deep trouble. I'm sure you are a very nice figment but I really haven't got time. Sorry."

"But I'm ..."

Leaving. Yes I knew you'd see it my way. Now off you go, and find whoever created you."

He took the lady by the arm and gently yet quite precisely opened the door and deposited her outside. She managed a few more buts, but that was about as far as she got. He closed the door deliberately resting his back against its wood. He breathed heavily massaging his temples. Crymzon knew she meant well but he already had enough with his furry friend who was still growling in his office.

"Stop that! She's gone."

He firmly bolted the window and placed the biggest, heaviest, pile of files he could find in front of it.

"And if I have anything to do with it she's not coming back either. So stop that or you'll be joining her on the porch, get me?"

More growling.

"Are you ..."

Crymzon stopped in his tracks. The werewolf wasn't just growling at anything. There was a man in a dress standing a couple of feet from the giant dog looking exceptionally confused.

"Oh no." Was about all Crym could manage.

"Pickle isn't it?"

The frightened wizard nodded. He took off his hat thumbing it with shaking hands.

"Oh no." Repeated Pickle, his voice trembling. "I'm really in for it this time."

Of all his character's Pickle was probably one of the ones he liked best. He had been written to be comical, lovable and above all absolutely useless. The fact that he was standing where he was, looking as scared as he was meant that there was an axe wielding psychopath somewhere calling him all the names under the sun.

"Where's Kal?" Said Crymzon scratching his head.

If Pickle was here and Kal had come with him he was probably terrifying some of his neighbors. If Pickle had left Kal behind, the warrior would be concocting new ways of dismembering the poor spell caster. He grimaced. There were more than two of them in that adventuring party and the rest where probably as much of a danger to themselves if they got out than any poor individual that might have come across them. He took a deep breath.

"I need you to think really hard now. What did you do to get here?"

"Oh well that's easy. Said Pickle looking a little more comfortable now he realized that nobody was going to remove his head. "I cast a spell."

"Teleportation spell was it?" Said Crymzon offering his creation a seat. He liked Pickle, he could stay. At least he wasn't likely to cause any problems unless asked to do anything more intellectually draining than picking his nose.

"Yes! You know magic?" Said the mage nodding energetically.

"No. I know you. I wrote you."

"Wrote me?"

"Don't even bother making me explain, it's been a very long night. Now. Where is Kal?"

The mage shrugged. "He was standing right next to me. He was just telling me that if I didn't get him to the treasure he was going to ..."

Crymzon raised his hand stopping the walking pencil mid sentence.

"I can imagine. So you cast the spell and ended up here?"

"Yes. I shouldn't be here should I?"

"No you shouldn't ... " He looked down cringing slightly. His werewolf companion had decided to mark his territory on the wizard's leg. Well at least he hadn't decided to make a snack of Pickle's arm ...

"It's not a problem I'll just ..."

Crymzon knew what was coming next and started waving his arms in the most violent way he could manage. Unfortunately the wizard appeared to be doing exactly the same thing. There was a bright flash and a dizzying sensation. He knew what this sensation was way to well. He'd written it.

When his vision cleared he was sitting on the floor of a very damp, cold chamber. Caleb, (his werewolf,) was staggering around as if someone had just flashed a camera full in his face and Pickle was looking very pleased with himself.

"It worked!" He said triumphantly.

"No it didn't." Said Crymzon gritting his teeth.

"My My, you sound just like Kal before he is about to ..."

He wasn't usually a violent person and, therefore, couldn't quite figure out why he had his hands around the mage's neck.

"Just don't! Now you get me home right this instant!"

Pickle was going a very interesting shade of purple. He just about managed to squeek out the words, "I can't," before Crymzon let him go.

"What do you mean you can't? I had you doing this all the time ... badly ... but you could still do it."

Pickle shrugged rubbing his throat. "Something isn't right. I've forgotten the spell. It's just vanished out of my head."

Crymon twitched. "I'm in one of my own stories, of course you can't. I haven't written me getting back out, and I haven't done that BECAUSE I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

He could feel his mind racing. This was not something he would have planned for in any eventuality. Well at least he was on the inside . This could potentially prove useful, he would kill Pickle later. Now he just had to figure out a way of getting word to Dru. She'd know what to do.

"Well as I'm assuming we're in a dungeon I think this is your ground. You had better be able to keep me alive. We've got a job to do. First I need to send a message to a friend. Then we need to find Kal. Then ... we have some spying to do."

He stood up dusting himself off and proceeded to grab the werewolf, holding the massive hound in position until it got its bearings.

"Now get up and point me in the direction out of this dungeon."






The End

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