M is for Minions

These are the characters that we love last in any stories. You know, the loyal companion of a witch, a warlock or any fantastic or magical being. I want to take this opportunity to honor all the minions that we forget in all the great books that we read. OK now, the only one I can think of right now is Azraël, the cat of Gargamel in The Smurfs…

Anyway, it proves my point, we don’t remember them…

I use this opportunity also to introduce you to the White cat, a minion I created in my novel Mysterious ways. The sea goddess emerges from the sea, followed by a white cat. To accomplish their purpose, it transforms into a teenager. Here is an excerpt for your enjoyment.

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All in his thoughts, Murrogh didn’t notice, right away, the young man standing in the door watching him. When he saw him, a cold shudder went up through his spine. A young lad, maybe 13-15 years old, with hair as white as snow and pale white skin stood in front of him. Murrogh thought at first that he had seen a ghost, but the boy motioned to him and he could see the vein on his neck pulsing with life.

“What are you doing here boy? Does your master need something?” The kitchen chief assumed the boy was an apprentice from the city coming with a quest or a message. He also noticed that the boy didn’t budge when he came closer. Murrogh was an imposing man close to 7 feet tall, that many feared when he was going around the kitchens shouting orders.

“No master ever ruled my destiny except the power of the 3 goddesses that gave me life.” The young boy replied with a unoticable purr. Murrogh nodded at the sentence. It gave away the boy’s age – 15 years old. Apprenticeship started at 15 and without a master the only ruler for them was the goddesses anytime they were asked. Many rules set the interaction between people and seeking apprenticeship was a ritual that any young man didn’t want to fail.

“Are you seeking apprenticeship in my kitchen, young lad?”

The boy nodded without a word, but Murrogh thought he saw a strange light in the boy’s profound blue eyes – another shiver went up through is spine.

“We could use more help around here.” Looking at the boy’s frail hands he added. “Find yourself to the bakery and ask for Turner. Tell him I sent you for the pastry, he will understand what to do with you.” The boy nodded again and made his way through the kitchens. Murrogh watched the boy disappear with an unclear feeling of fear. He had seen people with disabilities before and it had never bothered him. But right now, there was no time to enquire into the feeling; he brushed it off, forgetting the boy and going back to his event planning.

The heat in the kitchens was close to unbearable. The six butchers were cutting large amounts of meat with huge knives. Sweating and spitting on the floor, growling at their apprentices, threatening to cut them in pieces for the soup if they didn’t work faster. Blood dripped from the table and the stench from raw meat permeated the air.

On another table, seven other young man where cutting and peeling mountains of roots for the main dishes.

In the bakery, the scenery was close to the same, except that there was no blood and less noise – people were moving fast and the smell of yeast was sickening. The white boy entered the room and walked straight up to the person who appeared to be in charge and with an unshaken voice, despite is frailty, spoke. “Master Turner? Chief Murrogh sent me to you for the pastries.” Looking down, Turner, who was also a tall man, gave a warm smile to the young boy.

“What is your name? So we can greet you properly.”

“I am called Brayden.”

“Brayden, you are welcome! May the goddesses shower you with their infinite blessings.” The ritual was complete. Brayden was accepted as an apprentice by Master Turner. “Take this apron, he went on, and assist Marcus right over here. Brayden looked over the table and his eyes locked on a boy nearly the same age, with average features, covered with powdered sugar. He knew for certain that he would hate it in here. But the task at hand was greater than the means to get there.

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With great respect!

A.