The Redmadafa

by Gary Foshee

  made his way down to the stream, blocking her escape. He raised

  his dark hideous form from the ground and hissed, “And where

  do you think you’re going, Little Girl. There was a fee for passss-ing through my gate and you failed to pay it. Now you will pay

  with your life.”

  He struck at her several times and then heaved with his chest

  as he opened his mouth. Exhaling her doom, Slithler called out,

  “Eckelbesh!”

  The garden vibrated, tumbling rocks down the mountain-

  side. Statues crashed into each other and blue tongue sickles

  fell from the sky. Large boulders crashed into the rapidly rising stream. Brook, still standing in the middle, heard a roar coming from upstream. Small water drops pelted her face causing her to

  blink repeatedly.

  Petrified, she turned and ran for the bank.

  Around the bend a tidal wave ripped toward her. With the

  face of a dragon, it swallowed her, sweeping her downstream in

  its murky waters.

  Brook fought to keep her head above the rapids, but the

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  current was strong and arrogant; it quickened it pace and tossed her up and over the waves like a cat playing with its food.

  Marconeon fought his way through the gogs and stood on

  the edge of the tree line overlooking the garden when he heard

  Brook’s scream. He took flight and saw Slithler sliding down the stream after her. He scanned the water for Brook and caught a

  small glimpse of her before she disappeared behind a rapid.

  Banakamus was some 300 yards upstream from Marconeon.

  Three gogs circled and jabbed their swords at him but they were

  no match for the experienced and skilled swordsman. He blocked

  every feeble attempt and sent two of them hurtling back into the trees.

  “Banakamus, quick, she’s headed for the fal s,” shouted

  Marconeon, who had left the tree line and was making his way

  to Slithler.

  Banakamus jumped in the air and kicked the other gog into

  the bushes before he broke from the fight and took to the sky. He soared down the winding stream and caught sight of her in the

  current.

  Brook could barely keep her head above water. She screamed

  for a savior as she plunged over a small waterfall and got caught in the undertow. The current acted like a large chain. It pulled her to the bottom and reached down her throat, trying to wrench her

  soul from her body.

  Banakamus tucked his multi-colored wings behind his back

  and dove into the cloudy white-capped water, churning with ven-

  geance. He swam around and searched the bottom, but visibility

  was poor and bubbles blurred his vision. He surfaced and then

  dove again. After several seconds, he surfaced, this time with her in hand. He spread his wings, ruffled the water off of them, and started to lift from the water.

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  From a peak on the mountain overlooking the stream, a

  ragoole launched and locked in on him. It dropped long and hard

  and pulled up inches from the top of the trees. It flew over the mosaic path and crashed into Banakamus knocking all of them

  back into the water.

  Brook splashed and disappeared under the water only to

  emerge several yards down-stream. Banakamus and the ragoole

  thrashed back and forth, slashing each other with their claws,

  both trying to stay afloat in the turbulent water.

  Brook, barely conscious, bobbed up and down in the rapids.

  In the distance, a thunderous roar filled the air and drew close with every doomed second. She snaked down the treacherous

  stream, unable to free herself from the rapids. She rolled over

  several rocks and boulders headed for the fal . The waterfall was a 5400-foot drop straight down into a black abyss that crashed into the rocky shoreline of the Dead Sea far below.

  Brook, battered by the waves, fought to swim to the side but

  the current clutched her feet, spoiling her escape. Spotting a stick lodged between two large rocks, she paddled, barely grabbing it

  before she was swept by. The stick strained to hold her. It swayed back-and-forth several times before final y breaking.

  Brook held on hoping someone would save her. Banakamus

  heard her cry but couldn’t break free from the battle. As he

  watched from the distance, he heard the stick snap. Just feet from the fal , the rapids vaulted Brook over the edge and out of sight.

  She faded into the darkness—her screams growing faint as she

  plummeted to her death.

  A gush of wind penetrated the garden, toppling trees, bounc-

  ing their heads on the ground in holy reference. Over the gate

  and down the stream he flew, powerful and majestic, splitting

  the water in his wake. Disappearing over the fal s and into the

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  darkness, he grabbed Brook in his talons seconds before impact.

  He burst back over the top of the fal s gliding down the mosaic

  path. The light from his body blinded the garden as he rose over the gate and the jagged peaks of Mount Viper. The garden grew

  dim and vanished from sight while Brook, overcome with fear,

  rested in his arms.

  He flew through the canyon and switchbacks. He navigated

  up the draws and past the fork. He followed the trail back to the mountain pass and landed at the bank of The Redmadafa just

  outside of Thunder Juice Town. He waded out into the water and

  gently washed the blood from her. He clothed her with an embroi-

  dered dress and put leather sandals on her feet. He adorned her

  with jewelry; a bracelet for her arm, a necklace for her neck, a ring for her nose, earrings for her ears and a beautiful crown for her head. He summoned the temple elders and took back to the

  air to start the search for the next lost soul.

  Back at the gate, Slithler rose off the ground. “Master, he has

  spoiled your plans again,” squelched a gog standing beside him.

  Slithler swung his stinger-forked tail behind the gog running

  him through. He raised his lifeless body into the air and tossed it into the stream and writhed, “Yes, it would appear he has.”

  Slithler turned and gawked at the remaining gogs and beasts.

  “Strange. I feel strange. I feel...Good.”

  “Good? Master, what can be good about losing another one,

  rattled a voice from way in the back?”

  He gazed at the gate and pondered for a moment. “He has

  swoggled me for the last time. Two can play this game,” he hissed.

  “I will show him what a true Horn Swoggler can do.”

  “Master, what do you plan to do?”

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  “Beat him at his own game. Remove the bodies from the gar-

  den. Clean it up and open the gate.”

  “Open the gate? What do you mean master?” asked

  another gog.

  “I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I’ll open the gate

  and let them in by the droves.”

  “But master, what about the fee?” asked a tunnel guard.

  “Fee?” he answered, with a devilish smile on his face. “If he

  loves them so much, he can pay their fee.”

  * * * * * * *

  “Repent!”

  Caboose opened his eyes, stretched his arms and yawned.

  Still under the ledge, he looked out across the valley.

  A voice echoed in the desert, “Ki
ngdom at hand!” It was broken and faint, and then it was gone.

  A new day dawned across the valley. Caboose spent the night

  under an overhang that stuck out from the mountain face and

  curved around the corner. Howler tracks imprinted the ground

  outside. They had crept in on him during the night but Urium

  covered Caboose in bobo balm, masking his scent and disorient-

  ing the howlers.

  Urium looked at Caboose pointing his finger upward and

  motioned for him to be quiet.

  “What is it?” mumbled Caboose.

  “Howlers, they’re still looking for you. They picked up your

  scent during the night and know you are close.”

  “Howlers? You mean the little ones like we have in Thunder

  Juice Town?”

  “No. They are the creatures you heard in the desert when you

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  first arrived. They are one of the most cunning and deadly crea-

  tures in the valley. They are fast and can climb rocks and trees.

  They capture more souls for Slithler than anyone else.”

  “Who is Slithler?”

  “Shhh, I think they are on the ledge above us.”

  An ominous looking howler with a large scar across his face

  climbed down the overhang and sniffed the air. He looked out

  across the valley and then ascended the cliff face.

  “What?”

  “Just stay stil . I covered you in bobo balm last night. It has

  confused them.”

  “Ok,” said Caboose, with doubt in his voice, each answer only

  mounting more questions.

  “Don’t worry, in a few minutes it will be time for them to

  head back for their morning report.”

  “Who are you?” asked Caboose, “And how did you get here?”

  “Sorry for scaring you in the cave yesterday. I am Urium, a

  member of the celestial guard. I was assigned to watch over you.”

  Urium was dressed in silver armor trimmed in gold with an

  eagle imprinted on the chest. He was white with purple stripes

  and his eyes sparkled of diamonds. Long wavy purple hair flowed

  over his shoulder and wings, which folded in layers tucked

  behind his back.

  “Watch over me, since when?” asked Caboose

  “Since you were conceived.”

  “Conceived?” he replied with a clouded look on his face.

  “Then why haven’t I seen you before?”

  “I’ve always been with you Caboose. You just chose not to

  see me.”

  Chose not to see you? He sat motionless for a moment. That

  doesn’t make any sense. How can I choose not to see him if I

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  didn’t know he was there, he thought? Slowly drifting back he

  asked, “How can I choose not to see you when I didn’t even know

  you were here?”

  “It’s complicated,” responded Urium. “The best way to

  explain it is that most people don’t choose to see us until they are in great danger.”

  “Oh,” replied Caboose looking at the ground and gathering

  his thoughts. “But you were in the cave. I saw you following me,”

  he uttered, with a shriveled face.

  “Caboose, I am always following you; before you, beside you,

  over you.”

  “I don’t understand. I saw you in the cave and—”

  “You were scared and chose to see me. When you did, it

  final y allowed me to show myself to you and talk to you,” said

  Urium.

  Caboose flashed back to the cave and everything that hap-

  pened inside. He was not used to being scared and alone,

  especial y in an unfamiliar and dangerous land. His Papa made

  most of the important decisions in his life and was someone he

  understood and could turn to for help or answers. Urium spoke

  differently with him, like he was an adult. And even though it was hard to understand, down deep, Caboose liked it. He momentarily tensed up thinking about the cave and the crawler, but then

  relaxed.

  “You almost gave me a heart attack. I was so scared I couldn’t

  move. My muscles froze. I mean it. I couldn’t move,” he said gesturing with his hands.

  “Sorry, you were going fast and almost lost me. When you

  fell asleep, I patrolled outside making sure your tracks couldn’t be followed. When I came back you were gone. I didn’t mean to

  sneak up on you like that.”

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  “Who sent you to watch over me? I mean, what is a terrestrial

  guard?”

  Urium leaned back and laughed. He took a small rock and

  tossed it up against the wal . It bounced off and rolled out from under the overhang. “Not terrestrial, celestial guard.”

  “Whatever,” grunted Caboose, shrugging his shoulders.

  “He assigned me to you the day you were conceived. His

  name is—” Urium put his hand over Caboose’s mouth and nod-

  ded to the right. Caboose looked away afraid of what he might

  see. A door opened from the ground a few yards from him. His

  body tensed again frozen with fear. A shadow from the over-

  hang hid them as two gogs crawled from the hole and started out

  across the valley.

  “Master said he should be close to Graver’s cave,” said one of

  the gogs.

  “I bet Graver ate him,” responded the other.

  “He will be mad and punish him again. The master wants this

  one for the games. He said we’re not to lay a finger on him.”

  “How about a fist and a kick to the face?” replied the other

  gog with a smirk stretched across his mangled face. They looked

  at each other and busted-up laughing.

  “The master didn’t say anything about that,” laughed the gog,

  prodding the other in the side.

  Urium waited for them to fade out of sight. He stood up and

  looked down the hole. “That was close. Come on, these tunnels

  run for miles under the valley.”

  Caboose leaned over and looked down the dark hole. Panic

  churned in his stomach and his body shivered with the thought

  of going into a cramped dark tunnel again, especial y after what happened in the Titan Tree.

  “I don’t want to go down there,” shivered Caboose.

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  “It will be safer in the tunnels than out here,” said Urium

  crawling down the hole. “Besides, the howlers know you are here.

  I don’t know how much longer I can keep fooling them.”

  As they entered the tunnel, Caboose was still not sure they

  were making the right decision. The tunnel was formed by lava

  flowing from Mount Viper. Slithler and his servants used the tunnels to navigate the valley undetected. Torches resting in dragon claws mirrored up and down the tunnels lighting the ceiling

  more than they did the floor. Tunnels split off in every direction forming a large, interwoven network of mazes.

  “I’ve never seen a tunnel like this before,” said Caboose with

  strong implications that maybe they should turn around and

  leave. “Where are we going?”

  “To find Seven,” said Urium ruffling his wings.

  “Seven. What’s that?”

  “It’s not a what, he’s a who,” implied Urium with reverence for his friend. “Seven is a celestial guard whose been assigned to keep watch over the valley.
For some reason my message hasn’t gotten

  through, and he will be able to help us.”

  “What message?” asked Caboose.

  “Your message…for help.”

  Caboose hesitated. Had he real y been in the valley for so

  long that he was losing his memory? “I don’t remember sending

  a message for help,” he replied, with concern on his face.

  “Of course you do. Remember the cave and the crawler, you

  cried out for help.”

  “Oh yeah, I guess I do,” he replied, not sure that he real y

  remembered anything from the cave and anything that he did

  remember about the cave, he wanted to forget.

  “Who are you sending the message to?” asked Caboose

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  reaching back trying to scratch his side which painful y reminded him of the crawler and how close he came to being dinner.

  “The Augur of course,” responded Urium, surprised at the

  question from the son of a temple elder.

  “The Augur, you mean, he’s real.” Caboose reached up and

  touched the handle of one of the torches. The flame raged wildly jetting sparks up on the ceiling. He pulled his hand back and

  pointed, “Did you see you that?”

  “Of course he’s real,” replied Urium, focused on Caboose’s

  knowledge of The Augur.

  “Oh,” answered Caboose, embarrassed that he had asked.

  Urium stopped at a cross section and raised his star torch.

  “This way,” he mumbled. “It’s this way.”

  They continued for days, only stopping to rest under large

  lava fal s from underground spill ways—large lava-rivers snaked

  through the tunnels and spilled over crags. On the sixth day, they came to a “V” shaped column with a dragon face carved into it.

  Urium studied it closely. They turned and walked down several

  small steps that led to a doorway which opened into a large cav-

  ern of honeycombed structures that where neatly attached to the

  ceiling and upper wal s. Below them, hundreds of narrow stairs

  and bridges crisscrossed each other disappearing into a pitch-

  black bottomless void.

  Caboose looked down and then took a few steps back. “I

  can’t see the bottom.”

  Urium pulled out a star flare, cracked it, held it out and then

  let it fal . It glowed a dazzling white with a bright yellow center, vividly revealing the cave sides before being swallowed by the

  blackness.

  “It’s not that deep,” said Urium, trying to reassure Caboose.