Open Writing

THE BIKIE

“Do you remember that orc sergeant you threw into Bannister Creek a few weeks ago?” Skye asked Sapphire.

“Sure I do. His name’s Fangmar and he’s okay, really. I didn’t hurt him, just wanted to get his co-operation,” Sapphire said.

“I want you to call him and arrange a meeting between us and the Lady of the Wood.”

“Cool,” said Sapphire. “When?”

“ASAP,’ said Skye.

Skye, Woodward, Sapphire and Bart dressed carefully and took presents for the meeting. Skye took a tiny, super-sharp knife, Excalibur, for the orc sergeant, Woodward took a jar of quandong jam for Lady, and Sapphire and Bart took her some dragon scales wrapped in a clear tissue. Whenever the scales caught the light they glistened with unusual beauty and gave those that saw them a feeling of great satisfaction and contentment.

Fangmar met them at the edge of the wetlands and escorted them to a grassy mound beyond a grove of paperbark trees.

“Long time no see, sister mine,” said this cool, amused voice. “Your presence honors me.”

They all looked around and saw Lady appear suddenly from behind a cloak of green, woven so cunningly it looked like natural bush foliage.

“It has been too long,” said Skye. “I feel bad about it. I have only one sister – you – and nothing is forever.”

“You want something, don’t you?” said Lady.

“I do indeed. I’m struggling with my role as senior witch in charge of spell protocol in the West and I need your support.”

“You were always so grown up and independent. What has brought this on?”

Skye told her about the misuse of Lady’s love potion on Bart by a young dragon and the hurt it had caused Sapphire.

“Oh, dear,” said Lady. “I was only trying to be helpful to the little dragon. She shouldn’t have used it like that.”

Skye told her of the transformation of Bart and Sapphire. Lady’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the two ex-dragons. “That is amazingly well done, sister,” she said. “But you’ve ruined two incomparable fighting weapons.”

“I’ve actually developed them as weapons,” said Skye. “Sapphire is my bodyguard and PR person, and Bart is her offsider, in charge of transport.”

“Transport?” said Lady.

“I used part of my federal grant to buy him a Harley Davidson motor-cycle,” said Skye.

“Can I have a ride on it?” said Lady, smiling at Bart.

Bart blushed. “Your clothes aren’t right for the bike, Lady,” he said. “You could get a lot of windburn. Your skirt will flare up.”

Skye and Lady exchanged looks. Skye gave a tiny nod.

“One of my orcs has a used police jacket. I’ll borrow that,” said Lady.

“Please don’t,” said Bart. “The Police have been cutting their costs and they’ve swapped their leather jacket for a synthetic. It won’t stop a knife. You’d better borrow one of Sapphire’s”.

“Why would I be worried about stopping a knife, when I’m with you, handsome?” said Lady.

“He’s spoken for,” said Sapphire, eyes narrowed.

“That’s okay, darl, just kidding,” said Lady. “You shall have my cooperation, Skye. We should have a coffee, say once a week and talk. Where’s your favorite watering hole round here?”

“How about the kiosk at the old Riverton Bridge, near where that old bull shark took the pelican a few seasons ago? Monday is a good day for me.”

“Done deal,” said Skye, and so the sisters ended centuries of rivalry and other nonsense. All stitched up for the price of a ride on a motor-cycle.

Lady looked trim and elegant on the big bike behind Bart. She wore cool pig leathers, with a synthetic lining designed to wick moisture off her skin and keep her comfortable on hot days. On the back of her jerkin was the message ‘London, Paris, Parkwood - orcs rule.”

Bart took them along Leach Highway on to the freeway southbound, roared south to the Pinjarra exit, then turned round and roared back.

“That was absolutely terrific,” Lady told him. “I can’t remember having so much fun, including hunting lion with Pharaoh. It’s wonderful to be alive and well these days.”

And that was the humble beginning of Witches of the West, a sisterhood dedicated to the proper use of magic, run by Skye and Lady, PR by Sapphire, Transport by Bart, and Refreshments and Hugs by Woodward. If you don’t believe hugs important, consider the importance of Woodward’s gesture of reaching out to a broken-hearted girl dragon when he was a prisoner/slave captured by orcs.

There’s not an orc south of the river that wouldn’t buy him a drink, or a dragon that wouldn’t swallow a handful of quandongs to help him with his reforestation plans.