The Redmadafa

by Gary Foshee

  “It’s not much further. Just a few more miles and we should be

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  there. What do you know about The Augur? What did you learn

  about him at the temple?”

  “Not much,” said Caboose trying hard not to look down.

  “Papa forced me to go the temple but I never paid attention. My

  Aunt Nanny talked about him a lot too, but I thought it was just a bunch of stories. I also heard some kids at school making fun

  of people who went to the temple. They said The Augur was just

  a mythological creature the temple servants made up to scare

  everyone into following their rules…Oh no…”

  “What is it?”

  “I just remembered. Those same people said the gate didn’t

  exist either.”

  “Caboose, The Augur is real. He is the one that assigned me

  to you. And I wouldn’t say that your Papa forced you to go to

  temple.”

  Caboose looked at him with a peculiar look but didn’t say

  anything. He was afraid of heights and his knuckles were turn-

  ing white from gripping the railings. And of course his Papa had forced him to go—they never missed a service, he thought.

  “Your parents have a responsibility to teach you about The

  Augur. They are responsible for setting an example for you to

  observe and learn from both at home and at the temple. By tak-

  ing you to the temple, it allowed you to observe worship, worship of the One and Only true, living God. It is at the temple that he speaks to his people through his priests and seers. The priests and seers teach from the ancient scrol s about how he saves from the valley and about the power of The Redmadafa. This is the responsibility of everyone that decides to follow The Augur. When you

  grow up, it then becomes your responsibility to decide whether

  or not you will believe what you have observed and learned,

  or whether you will reject it and go your own way. The Augur

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  does not force himself on anyone. But he does charge those who

  believe, with teaching the next generation about him, especial y their own children.”

  Convicted, Caboose asked, “What is he? Who is he? And

  what does he do?”

  “Take a look around.”

  Caboose looked at the tunnel and shrugged his shoulders.

  This doesn’t seem so great, he thought.

  Urium, realizing the tunnel wasn’t a good example said, “Well

  there isn’t much to see in here. But everything you have ever seen, heard, touched, or smelled was made by him.”

  With a puzzled look on his face, Caboose asked, “He made

  the Valley of Bones?”

  Urium realized he was getting nowhere fast. They stopped

  and took a rest next to a bridge made from the saliva of dragon

  bats. The bridge stretched across a bottomless cavern and ended

  at two stone statues of trol s wearing helmets and holding swords.

  “The Valley of Bones didn’t use to be like that,” said Urium.

  He reached into a leather pouch and handed Caboose a square

  grain-cake wrapped in mint leaves. Caboose looked at both sides, smelled it and then took a bite.

  “This is pretty good. What else do you have in there?”

  Urium reached in and pulled out a few more treats and

  handed them to Caboose. “In the beginning, everything The

  Augur made was good. But then a serpent told the first man and

  woman that they could be like God, and they believed him.

  “That sounds like a person I know,” said Caboose. “Serpent…

  what is a serpent?”

  “A serpent used to walk upright like humans. He had arms

  and legs and could even talk. He was the smartest of all the animals that the Augur made, but that ended up being his downfal .

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  A member of the Celestial Guard came and deceived him and

  had him sing a song. The serpent then taught it to the first man and woman. When the Augur found out, he cursed the serpent,

  turning him into a slider and said to him, ‘You are cursed above all the beasts. Upon your bel y you will crawl and eat dust all the days of your life. I will make you an enemy of the humans; they

  will crush your head and you will bruise their heel.’”

  Caboose thought for a moment. He remembered the song

  the younglings at school sang about the gate. So excited to dis-

  close his apparent knowledge of the subject, he choked trying

  to get the words out. “The kids at school sing a song about that I think,” said Caboose. “The first part of it goes like this:

  ‘ Over the mountains, over the hil s,

  Through the val ey, better watch your heels.’

  That’s what that means. Now I get it:

  ‘ Listen to the air, listen for the click,

  better beware, or you’ll be tricked.’

  I’ve never seen a serpent, but I think I met one, and his name

  is Lucky—‘Lucky Lucy.’ He’s a no good, double crossing liar, worse than a three-legged lizard.” Caboose moved his head back and

  forth and, in a sarcastic tone, sang:

  “Lucky Lucy is all you have to say,

  for me to come around and take your troubles away.

  Why, if he were here right now I’d show him what real trou-

  ble was all about. I’d—”

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  “Caboose, you must not let anger determine your actions.”

  Caboose kicked a large stone over the side of the ledge. “I

  wouldn’t let anger determine my actions. I’d let my fist determine what size of a big fat nose I would give him right after I beat

  his face into the ground. Anger, I’m not angry. I am mad—com-

  pletely, stark-raving mad.”

  The stone smashed against a rock bridge, which broke apart

  a small section, which then smashed into several others below it toppling them down and out of sight. The sounds echoed through

  the caverns and rushed down the tunnels. Two red eyes opened

  far above them and then quickly disappeared.

  “Caboose, calm down, your face is turning red and your ears

  are going crazy. It’s okay to be angry. Anger is an emotion that The Augur gave us to alert us that something is wrong, but you must

  learn to control anger and never let it control you. In your anger, you must not do wrong. You must overcome evil with good.”

  “But, I don’t know how. That all sounds good, but I real y

  want to hurt him.”

  “His wrongdoings will find him out. You said he made you

  sing a song.”

  “Yeah, that’s how I ended up here.”

  “Do you remember it?”

  “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Let me see, I think it went like this:

  I am happy, I am free,

  I’m in charge of my destiny.

  No more hurting, no more sob,

  pass through me gate and become like God.”

  “So, is that what he is going by now, Lucky Lucy.”

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  “Do you know him?” asked Caboose, his eyes growing with

  wonder.

  “If it is who I think it is, I do.”

  “Wel , who do you think it is?”

  Urium stared off into the distance—that day at the Holy

  Mount and the fiery stones had changed his life and the course of history forever. “I was there when he fel ,” said Urium.

  “You were where when who fell?” asked Caboos
e, confused.

  “Sit down Caboose. I want to tell you about a celestial being

  that use to be the Supreme Commander of His Majesty’s Imperial

  Guard. The song that he made you sing was the original lie. He

  tricked the first man and woman into singing it too and this was the song that ended up getting him cast from the Holy Mountain.

  It’s the same lie that continues to deceive many today.

  In the beginning, when His Majesty created the heavens

  and the earth, he created us, the celestial guards; we were cre-

  ated right before the humans and the beasts. We were assigned

  duties throughout the heavens and the earth. Our main duty was

  to watch over humans and creatures like you. Mageddon, the

  Supreme Commander, was assigned duties in a beautiful garden,

  the same garden that the first man and woman lived in.

  Mageddon was not like the rest of us. He was the most beau-

  tiful and wise Celestial Guard His Majesty created. His setting and mountings were made of gold. His eyes slanted sharply and glistened of rubies. His skin was silky smooth to the touch and was

  overlaid with blue topaz. Emeralds traced the contours of his wings, which stretched high above his head and sparkled brightly when in flight. His finger and toe nails were painted with jasper—they were extra long and pointed at the ends. Red sapphires streaked with

  white beryl were woven into his hair and flowed down his back.

  Onyx and turquoise pierced his ears and nose. And his tongue…

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  oh, it was so stunning. It was made from chrysolite and spoke wonderful poetic symmetries. His songs filled the universe and were synchronized to spectacular displays of light, which shot across the galaxies il uminating the solar system with showers of cosmic explosions. I remember how all the starry hosts use to sit and watch, listening for hours, captivated by his rhythmic melodies.”

  Caboose watched Urium’s facial expressions as he talked

  about Mageddon.

  “Wow, he must have been, beautiful,” said Caboose.

  “Very,” answered Urium. “On the day he was created, The

  Augur anointed him a Guardian Cherub and put him on The

  Holy Mount. He was even allowed to walk among the fiery stones.

  But his beauty and special authority soon became his downfal .

  His heart filled with pride and he proclaimed himself to be a god.

  So, there was war in the heavens and Mageddon, and the whole

  Northern army, lost their place of authority and were cast to

  earth. That is why the Valley of Bones is the way it is; that is why there is a gate, and Mageddon, I bet you, is behind all of this.”

  Small red eyes glared as dark shadows stirred within each hon-

  eycomb. Footsteps clobbered down the tunnels toward them.

  Urium turned around, squinted his eyes, and looked through the

  wal s into the tunnels. With his back turned to Caboose, and in a calm voice he said, “Run.”

  Caboose didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask why or which way.

  He didn’t wait to see what Urium was looking at. He turned and

  made a mad dash for the bridge. He ran across the bridge tightly knit together with bat saliva and slipped on its slimy surface—

  he crashed face-first into a side railing and landed on his left shoulder, about midway across. Tunnel trol s emerged from the

  archway on the other side but didn’t see him lying on the bridge.

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  Blood ran from his nose, down his lip and into his mouth.

  He spit it out and wiped his nose with his hand. He then lowered his head and tried to crawl back to Urium without being noticed.

  Tunnel trol s erupted through the doorway from the other

  side stopping his escape. They spotted him in the middle of the

  bridge and closed-in from both sides. Unable to see Urium, they

  ebbed closer and closer with swords drawn. Urium flew over and

  grabbed Caboose. “Hang on.”

  “Hang on, to what? What are you going to do?” asked

  Caboose looking around for something to hang on to.

  “Grab onto the corners of my armor, quickly.”

  Caboose looked at the trol s and then at Urium. Urium drew

  his sword, raised it high and struck the bridge. Caboose grabbed onto the corners of his armor and yelled, “What are you doing?

  You’re gonna kill us!”

  Urium struck the bridge again opening a crack down its

  foundations that splintered out across its base. Trol s pushed

  backwards as others tumbled over the side, disappearing into

  the darkness: others hung from the sides pleading for help. The

  bridge broke apart and col apsed underneath Caboose. He fell

  into the darkness but then rose from the dark carried by Urium.

  Black dragon bats with red eyes dropped from the honeycombs

  above and flew past them, ripping and tearing at Caboose with

  their long vampire fangs and claws, as spears and arrows took to the air and joined the fight.

  Urium ducked and twirled, flipping Caboose over and under

  the fiery onslaught as he ascended toward the opening behind

  the two stone trol s—Caboose’s face turned blue with airsickness.

  His eyes rolled back in his head and his stomach grumbled.

  Urium plowed through the trol s and down the tunnel

  knocking trol s off the cliff while smashing others against the

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  statues and wall face. Behind them, the tunnel filled with dragon bats, screeching and hissing. They nipped at Caboose’s tail causing him to swing it vigorously, smashing several of them against the wall and knocking others senseless. Urium darted down the

  tunnels, zigzagging in and out of cross sections. He dropped low over a lava river and shot up an airshaft back into a large cavern.

  He dropped down another deep airshaft.

  Caboose’s eyes focused on the bottom quickly approaching

  and yelled, “Pull up! Pull up!” At the last second Urium darted

  into the bottom tunnel and dropped Caboose on the ground. He

  reached into his armor, pulled out a dragon’s eye and tossed it to Caboose. Caboose juggled it several times before final y gaining control.

  “Rub it hard and throw it,” said Urium.

  Caboose looked down and rubbed it energetical y in his

  hands. He threw it back toward the opening and waited. Urium

  jumped over Caboose and spread his wings. The mauve/black-

  slit eye rolled into the corner, vibrated and exploded. The shaft entrance caved in, sealing the dragon bats and tunnel trol s on

  the other side.

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  C H A P T E R 6

  The Little Round About

  The race does not belong to the swift,

  nor the battle to the strong.

  “It’s another great day here in Thunder Juice Canyon,” said

  Mike, an announcer for ‘The Little Round About’ race. The

  Little Round About was the biggest race of the year. Creatures

  and beasts from all over the circle came for miles to test their skill and strength against the best in the land: Humans were not allowed to race—they were slow and would get stepped on.

  “It sure is Mike,” said Johnny, another announcer. “Conditions

  are perfect. We might see some records broken today.”

  “There’s been a lot of talk about the new kid. Trax better not

  underestimate him.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. You know, his father was quite the

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  prodi
gy in his day. Many still believe he would’ve broken Old

  Pete’s record if it hadn’t been for the accident,” said Johnny.

  “In practice the other day, I saw Rammer run three seconds

  behind Trax’s best time this season.”

  “His coach said he is already jumping higher than Trax and

  his form is better.”

  “Johnny, I think we’re in for the race of the season.”

  Coach walked over to Rammer who was swinging his leg from

  left to right loosening up. “Now remember, in Crooked Creek

  Pass there’s a lot of loose gravel. As you approach the turn, bear to the left inside corner. It will keep you in line coming out of the turn and prevent you from going over the edge. Watch the loose

  gravel in the turns and…”

  “Coach, I know, we’ve been over this a hundred times,” said

  Rammer, now jumping up and down and moving his shoulders

  in a rowing motion. Rammer had worked hard, extremely hard

  to race in ‘The Little Round About.’ He knew a win today would

  make his Dad proud and perhaps persuade him to spend more

  time with him.

  Coach flipped-open his map holder. “I’m just making sure,”

  said coach, re-evaluating the course map looking for anything

  he might have overlooked. “Rammer, you can beat him, but you

  must believe that you can beat him. If he starts to pull in front of you close to the end, don’t give up. That is the most important

  time of the race. Reach down deep, let him think he has the edge and then, accelerate by him and don’t look back.”

  Rammer looked around the crowd. He knew he would

  need more than his own strength to beat Trax and the others.

  He needed the strength of his father. He needed that extra boost of energy that every athlete gets when they know their father is 119

  Dr. Gary Warren Foshee

  in the crowd shouting their name. He needed confidence, confi-

  dence that only a father can give to a son—male to male. Mothers may try but they just don’t understand. It’s a male thing. Sons

  need their father’s support. They need his recognition. They need his time. They need his encouragement. Love is the ultimate

  compliment of achievement. They even need his discipline. And

  above all else, they need his love. The masculine love of a father taking his son, whether in triumph or failure, into his arms and saying, “Son, I am so proud of you…You did good today…Son,