The Redmadafa

by Gary Foshee

  then you can have my life.”

  Kob grabbed Chesty’s face with his claws and pulled it close.

  “Your life! Your life! Your life and soul will rot in this spot for the rest of eternity.” He thrust his face away and stepped back. Kob’s 129

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  body shook rabidly from the endorphins pumping through it.

  Mucus salivated from his mouth as the red-tipped spikes on his

  back reached for the sky, ready for battle.

  Chesty remembered the last time they met. He was 17; he had

  squandered his inheritance and had been trapped in the valley by Kob and several others. Kob, who was second in command at

  that time, cornered Chesty, whom he called ‘Pauper’ because he

  had lost all his money and was a poor, restless wanderer trapped in the valley, and had wounded him severely. In front of the pack, he tried to attack Chesty by himself instead of using the strength of the pack. When he did, Chesty swung around, trying to protect himself and accidental y slashed Kob across the face with his horn. Embarrassed, Rukbat, the leader of the pack, demoted Kob

  making him subject to the others and last to feed.

  Two howlers walked over to the thick lodge pole hold-

  ing Chesty and swung him over land and cut the rope. Chesty

  dropped to the ground and sprang to his feet. Thinking only

  of his son, he puffed-up his body making his appearance even

  larger. He lowered his head and matched Kob’s footsteps.

  They circled each other.

  “Come on Kob, rip his throat out,” growled one of the howlers.

  “I’m going to kill you Pauper, and once I tear out your throat

  and the ground licks up your life-blood, I will personal y take

  your soul to the pit and cast it in myself. Then I’m going to find your boy and unleash the hounds of hel . When I find him,” Kob

  stopped and savored the thought, “I’m going to kill him slow—

  real slow. I’ll gorge myself on his flesh and drink his blood until my stomach burst from gluttony. Vengeance is final y mine.”

  Chesty fought hard to control the rage building inside, but

  couldn’t stop his heart from beating mad. He knew he could not

  allow Kob and his pack to harm Caboose, and to kill him; that

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  wasn’t an option. He must protect his son no matter what the cost or pain to himself.

  “Vengeance is The Augur’s and his alone. You have mocked

  and terrorized his children for far too long. The first time we met, I was young and afraid of you. I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “Good, your pride has blinded you; I will use that to my

  advantage.”

  “Pride? I don’t come against you today with pride. I come

  against you in the name of The Augur. The battle belongs to him.”

  Chesty flinched back and then leapt forward, catching Kob

  off balance. He rammed him in the side and spun him around.

  Kob’s jagged claws dug into the ground and grabbed his back leg, ripping flesh high into the air—it splattered on the pack causing them to wince. Chesty bellowed and charged Kob, tossing him

  into the pack like a rag dol .

  Kob recovered and climbed up the cliff directly over him and

  ran across its face. He jumped backwards, spinning in mid-air, and tore a large gash down Chesty’s side. He then landed on his feet and raked dirt into Chesty’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. Chesty reeled around trying to protect his flank, and advanced right into Kob’s trap. Kob jumped on his back and sunk his six-inch fangs

  into the back of his neck. Chesty swung, trying to knock Kob off, but his fangs were long and deeply embedded. With blood running

  down his back and nothing else to do, he ran backwards into the

  cliff face, crushing Kob with his massive weight.

  The pack watched in panic. Their leader’s brutal reign had

  final y come to an end. It was the second time Chesty had altered Kob’s life.

  Chesty stood up. He was wounded from the battle and took

  no pride in Kob’s misfortune. In victory he walked over him, but surprisingly, Chesty felt nothing but defeat.

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  Kob’s battered body lay motionless on the ground. The blood

  in his heart coagulated, slowing it with every beat. Kob peered

  down his vile, spiked nose frothing with tiny red bubbles.

  “I hate you! I hate you!” he scorned, gasping for air. Little red bubbles fell from his nose soaking into the dirt beneath.

  “I wish things could have been different between us Kob.

  Anger has consumed you and hate has clouded your judgment. I

  forgave you a long time ago.”

  “Forgave me?” roared Kob coughing up blood. “Who do

  you think you are? Don’t dare coddle me with your pathetic

  self-righteousness.”

  Kob lifted his head slightly from the ground. “You will die

  in this valley Pauper and when you do...Ca, Ca, Ca,” he coughed

  again, “Your soul will belong to Slithler. We will meet again; in the pit…meet…again.”

  His eyes closed. His heart stopped. All that remained was the

  gargling sound of death leaving his dark bloodstained body.

  * * * * * * *

  The crowd thinned and walked back to town. The long uneven

  clay road bustled with activity as vendors and competitors

  packed and headed home—their pockets bulging with profit.

  News of the race spread throughout the marketplace and taverns.

  Thunder Juice mugs slid down the bar as spirits soared high and

  accounts of the race spread. Laughter echoed out of doors and

  windows as many retold the race with great excitement.

  Along the trail, small creatures swept trash that littered the

  trail all the way up to the finish line, some blowing off into the carrot-colored sunset. The wind whistler brushed tracks away,

  covering them with small granules of dirt and sand. All that

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  remained were the small indentions of another vague race where

  dreams ran high and disappointment low. Yellow and brown

  leaves shuffled across the path and accumulated into small bur-

  rows against the trees and rocks; insects scurried to claim a home and fought heartily to defend it. Younglings raced each other

  down the trail pretending they were racers, testing themselves,

  honing their skil s with future dreams of grandeur.

  Rammer sat on a stump behind a grass hut; a year of sweat,

  pain, and agony all for nothing, he thought, as self pity consumed him. Anger boiled deep within him. It constricted his heart and

  convinced his mind he was not as good or important as others.

  People told him he wouldn’t amount to much, and now it seemed

  like they were right. He sat outside, venting, mad at himself for foolishly thinking that his Dad was in the crowd.

  How could I be so foolish, he said to himself? I could’ve won

  if I hadn’t looked in the crowd.

  “Good race Rambam, you almost beat him,” resounded a

  quaint accent from someone passing by.

  Rammer didn’t say anything. He just sat there, static, frozen

  in times past.

  “Maybe next year Rambam. You will get him next year,” said

  another.

  Coach came around the corner and stopped. He watched

  Rammer for several seconds. He knew the pain he was feeling

  was not from a lost race that he had trained so hard for. He knew it was the pains of a son longing to have his father
’s support, his father’s validation that he was becoming a man. Coach walked

  over, graceful y escorted by a presence, a Spirit, not his own.

  “Rammer, I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you ok?”

  “You almost beat him—maybe next year. That’s all I’ve ever

  heard. ‘Son, I’ll be there this time. I will be there watching you.’ I 133

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  can’t stand him. He’s not my father,” said Rammer, without look-

  ing up.

  “Rammer, don’t talk about your father that way. I’m sure he’s

  doing the best he can. He probably got held up at work.”

  “Work, play, the tavern, it’s always something. A new excuse:

  a new opportunity. Trax’ Dad was here. He was here for his son.”

  “Rammer, this race was not about whether your father was

  here or not.”

  Rammer jerked from his seat. “Of course it was! It had every-

  thing to do with him being here. Don’t you understand? Don’t

  you understand anything? Trax beat me because he heard his

  father’s voice.”

  Coach looked away. Silence crept in. Memories flooded his

  mind as those same words echoed from long ago.

  “What would you know about it anyway?” vented Rammer.

  He walked inside the hut and jammed his things into his burlap

  sack. “You have the perfect family. I bet your Dad came to all

  your races.”

  Coach followed close behind but stood off to the side. “More

  than you know Rammer, more than you know.” Coach sat down

  on a chair and stared off into the distance.

  “I do have a great family now, but it wasn’t always like this. I used to feel like that about my Dad too.”

  Rammer didn’t say anything. He finished packing his

  things and then faced coach with a focused gesture. After a few

  moments, coach, looking back into his past and spurred by the

  divine, replied, “I grew up in a home that was filled with violence.

  My Mom and Dad drank Thunder Juice and fought all the time;

  so much so that my little sister and I used to hide under the bed or in the closet, scared their anger would be taken out on us.

  Sometimes we were pulled out of bed in the middle of the night

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  and had to go stay with our mother’s friends. I cried myself to

  sleep many nights wondering why The Augur had given me the

  parents he did. My Dad never came to my races. He never did

  anything with me.”

  Rammer looked down but not at coach. Coach hesitated for

  a moment and wondered if he should continue. Now was prob-

  ably not the best time to have this conversation, but then again, maybe it had been ordained before time began.

  Coach continued.

  “I stood and watched the fathers of my friends come and cheer

  them on at the races. I heard them talk about the fun vacations

  they took together; we never took a vacation as a family. Never!

  I didn’t realize it then, but my distorted perception of reality was transforming me into an angry young man. I started to hate men

  because of my father and the sense of abandonment I felt from

  him not supporting me. It didn’t take long for selfishness to lay siege to my mind and eventual y consume the benevolent heart I

  had. My life spiraled out of control for several years after that. So, don’t tell me that I don’t know how you feel, because I do.”

  Coach stood up, walked to the door and stared outside. He

  placed his hands on the doorposts and continued.

  “When I was old enough, I left home; I got as far away from

  him as I could and never looked back. I ran straight for the gate and didn’t want anything else to do with Thunder Juice Town and

  the people of the temple. But do you know, the harder I ran, the faster The Augur pursued me.”

  Coach reached up and wiped his eye. A small smug of won-

  derful mercy traced the edge of his finger. He wiped it against

  his leg.

  “I ran to the mountain-top and he was there. I hid in the val-

  ley and he was there. I sailed across the sea; there was nowhere I 135

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  could go that he couldn’t find me. Even the fallen celestial guards tried to keep him from me; they failed.

  You see, during that time, the time I tried to run from him,

  people back at the temple were praying for me. One day, before

  I left to find the gate, I ran into a couple of them. They said The Augur loved me and wanted me to come back. Do you know

  what I said?”

  Rammer shook his head no.

  “If he is such a loving Augur, why would he create me if he

  knew I was going to reject him and go my own way? Then one

  day my Aunt Nanny final y answered that question. She said,

  ‘Young man, The Augur gave you life and planted you by The

  Redmadafa. He gave you his love, but to receive yours, he had

  to let you go. That is the only thing The Augur can’t do; he can’t make you love him. Because if you make someone love you, that’s not love.’ Those words changed my life that day.

  I can’t go back and change how my parents lived and how

  they treated my sister and me. I can’t go back and make my father love me. But, do you want to hear something real y awesome?”

  He walked over and stood beside Rammer and said, “I can’t

  go back and change what happened in my family. But now The

  Augur has given me a family of my own. I have three sons and

  a daughter. Children that I take in my arms and show them the

  love I never had. I go to their races. I take them on vacations. We go and eat in the marketplace. We even swing on the vines, way

  out into The Redmadafa. But above all else, the best part is, we all go to temple together and worship him as a family.”

  Tears ran down both their cheeks as coach took Rammer in

  his arms and pulled him tight.

  “Rammer, call out to him and let him take you into his arms

  and show you a love like no other. When you receive his love, it 136

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  will change your life, and you, Rammer ‘The Rambam,’ will go

  and do Great Things.”

  Rammer hesitated to speak. He didn’t know what to do or

  how to respond to the emotions flowing in his body. Coach’s

  words…they spoke a truth he hadn’t heard before. Life was in

  his words. Healing, but not an herbal or physical healing. It was a spiritual healing—a healing unknown and unexplainable by

  books or professors at the university.

  “You said Trax beat you when he heard his father’s voice?”

  inquired Coach.

  “You may think I’m crazy Coach, but I could feel the energy

  flowing through Trax when he heard his father’s voice.”

  “My life changed the day I heard my father’s voice cheering

  me on.”

  “I thought you said he never went to your races?”

  “He didn’t. That’s not the father I’m talking about. When my

  Aunt Nanny told me about The Augur and the love he had for

  me that was when I heard his voice. It was then that I realized

  he had been to every practice, every scrimmage, every race. He

  promised he would never leave me and that he would always be

  there. I foolishly thought I was alone during that time of my life.

  But I wasn’t. I was never alone. He was always there.”

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  C H A P T E R 7

  Yellow Bellies

  Lukewarm: neither hot nor cold. Beasts:

  Creatures:

  And Humans afraid to choose a side.

  Rocks and boulders clogged the shaft entrance. Loud rumbles

  echoed up the tunnel and vibrated off the wal s. Caboose

  stood up and shook the dust off his back. He held his head and

  muttered, “Now I know why The Augur didn’t give unidors

  wings.” He grabbed his stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Still dizzy from the wild ride, he wiped his face and inspected

  his tail. Bite marks pierced the skin on the right side, and on the top left side, several small chunks where missing. He reached

  back and pulled out a tooth that had lodged deep inside one of

  the bite marks.

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  He examined it.

  The tooth was white at the tip and black near the root.

  “That was close,” he sighed.

  “Let me see that.” Urium took the tooth and held it up to the

  light. He touched the tip of it with his finger and then sniffed it.

  “Disgusting little varmints,” he replied.

  He pulled out a leather pouch and dropped it in. Caboose

  heard a dim jingle as it landed in the bottom of the pouch. He

  shook his head. He didn’t bother to ask what it would be used for.

  Muffled shrieks permeated through the pile of rocks shift-

  ing his focus away. He thought for a moment about what had

  just happened. He realized once again how close he had come to

  death. He wondered how anyone could make it alone in the val-

  ley without help. Without Urium and those back home praying

  for him, he would have never made it out of Graver’s cave.

  “They wanted to kill me; they wanted to kill me. Urium, they

  wanted to kill me!”

  “Death has a rightful claim on all who enter the valley.”

  “A rightful claim; what does that mean?”

  “No one forced you to go through the gate. Death has a right-

  ful claim to all souls that enter the valley,” said Urium, cleaning off his wings and tucking them back in place.

  “Oh,” acknowledged Caboose, not caring to know anymore

  about that. “Where do these tunnels lead? They look different.”

  “We are getting close to Mount Viper. Many are dead ends

  that come out somewhere in the valley. The rest are used to transport smaller creatures and humans to Viper, or the ferry, which