The Redmadafa

by Gary Foshee

ashamed of, things we wish we could go back and change. I’m

  sorry you had to find out like this.”

  “But Papa, you’re an elder of the temple. It can’t be. It can’t

  be true.”

  “It’s hard for many to accept the truth. Judging eyes gawked at

  me as I walked the streets of Thunder Juice Town, pointing their fingers, whispering lies. With blinded eyes they failed to see the hand of The Augur that rescued me and molded me into what I am

  today. Today I stand as a prisoner of hope. Hope that they accept the truth—the truth that I am no different than anyone else. I was rescued and blessed only because I called out His Name.”

  “But Papa, what about the pit? If we die here our souls—”

  “I’m ful y aware of the pit. Etched into the wal s of this cell is a message. It says, ‘I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion.’

  Somehow…I think it was written for me.”

  Caboose stood there transfixed by his Papa’s words. Unable

  to piece together the puzzle before him, he responded, “Don’t

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  worry Papa, I’m going to get us out of here. When Urium gets

  here, he will rescue us.”

  * * * * * * *

  Brook’s mother pushed her way through the crowd and made

  her to Rinox. She stood and listened to the crowd yelling insults and shaking their fists at him. She pondered everything he said

  and remembered how her father used to rock her to sleep every

  night, even when she was older and her feet swept the floor. She could still hear his soothing voice telling the story about when The Augur sent one of his servants to rescue him:

  “Cotton Top, (everyone called her Cotton Top because of

  her white blondy hair) have I ever told you the story about

  when The Augur rescued me when I was a young man?”

  he would ask while rocking her to sleep. Although she

  had heard it several times before, she always responded,

  ‘Tell me again Daddy.’

  “One day I was listening to a debate at the University

  between my professor and Pelusium the High Priest

  of the temple. They were debating the existence of The

  Augur and where life came from. I did not believe in The

  Augur, nor did any of my close friends. Pelusium talked

  about when the sea swallowed the earth and how a man

  and his family loaded two of every kind of creature and

  animal into a big Tree Floater. My professor stood up, a

  very distinguished man, an expert in his field, and said:

  ‘Pelusium, I know you are a respected man of the

  community and have done a lot of Great Things for the

  people of Thunder Juice Town. But, with all due respect,

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  do you real y expect me to believe and teach this to my

  students? Do you know how many different kinds of

  howlers there are in the world? Probably about 300 to

  400. There are little ones and big ones and the ones that

  live here in town with us. And then there are the fierce

  deadly ones that prowl in the mountains. Do you real y

  expect me to believe that they all came from two howlers

  on a Tree Floater?’

  As I listened to my professor, I was so proud; he sup-

  ported my views and reaffirmed my beliefs. But when

  Pelusium answered him, my whole world came crashing

  down. He said, ‘Sir, would you look at what you’re teach-

  ing your students now. You’re teaching them that all

  howlers came from a rock, and that the rock ultimately

  came from nothing. It takes more faith to believe that

  all howlers came from a rock that just popped itself into

  existence than it does to believe that all howlers came

  from a male and female howler from the big Tree Floater.’

  My professor didn’t have any more questions after

  that. It was then that I began to question the things that

  I was forced to hear at school and the university. I real-

  ized when only one side of a story is taught, that that

  is not considered an education—it’s indoctrination.

  Indoctrination always has a puppet master at the top

  with a dark hidden agenda.

  My story is not like others from the temple who were

  rescued from some far and distant land holding on to life

  by a thread. No, sometimes I think it is worse; he rescued

  me from myself and the deadly poison of the teaching

  that I came from nothing. Everyone knows that zero

  times zero equals zero: Nothing can’t birth anything.”

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  Brook’s mother, viewing what was taking place and hearing

  what Rinox said, turned around, and picked up Timmy. “Let’s go

  home, we’re not going anywhere.”

  They walked home through the market and passed ‘ Snails, Tails and Ale, ’ a local tavern. A large weathered man walked in the door and sat down at the bar.

  “Bottle,” he grumbled; his eyes ominously surveyed the

  room, his lips scowled the air.

  At the other end of the bar, Babbler, an old regular nodded

  his head with a short once-over and suggested, “Looks like you’re in a hurry, going somewhere?”

  Not dropping his defenses, the man responded, “Out of this

  god forsaken place. Have you seen the streets? It’s like a ghost town around here. I’m not sticking to find out if that eagle is right.”

  He took a drink, motioned for a bowl of soup and continued.

  “I had a run-in years ago with a serpent. He gave me this bad

  leg. No sir, I’m getting as far away from here as I can.”

  The bartender walked over and plopped a bowl of soup on

  the counter in front of him. He grabbed a dirty wooden ladle and took a bite. He sloshed it around in his mouth, and with a sour

  look on his face, spewed noodles all over the floor. He wiped his mouth and choked, “You call this food. It tastes like three-day old squealer slop.”

  “Honey, God made those vittles,” replied the bartender in a

  sassy tone.

  “But the devil made me, Ha, Ha, Ha!” said the cook, stretch-

  ing his head through a hole in the wall—he had a fat bottom lip

  that drooped low in the middle.

  Two deformed-looking beasts walked over and leaned against

  the bar to chime in on the conversation. Over in the corner, lit 243

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  softly by candlelight, a dwarf with floppy green ears played a faded green accordion made from cattle hide and cherry wood from an

  almugwood tree. Sitting next to him, shoulder to shoulder, sat

  another dwarf with a baggy hat and a white frothy mug of thun-

  der juice filled to the brim. They swayed back and forth singing:

  “If the ocean was thunder juice,

  And I was a duck,

  I dive to the bottom,

  And drink my way up.

  It’s sparkling red color,

  So wonderful y delight,

  Appeases the hunger bugs,

  In my bel y at night.

  Rye whiskey, Rye whiskey,

  Rye whiskey, my dear,

  Rye whiskey, Rye whiskey,

  Rye whiskey, my dear.”

  “Stranger, I don’t know where your travels have taken you,

  but I’ve been all over this great big circle myself,” said Babbler.

  “Behind these wal s is the safest
place I know. I’m not going

  anywhere.”

  “Then, to each his own,” snarled the stranger raising his bot-

  tle slightly in the air. Around the room bottles raised high joining the toast. “Besides everyone’s leaving; you don’t think everyone could be wrong, do you?”

  “No, I don’t think everyone’s wrong. I know they’re wrong,”

  said Babbler, picking at the bar.

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  The strangers face balled up. He downed the bottle. “Old

  man, I’ve lived a long time myself. I’ve done alright by following the crowd.”

  “I’m no choir boy,” said Babbler. “But I do recall a passage

  from the ancient scroll that says, ‘Don’t follow the crowd in doing evil.’ I may have lost some battles in life son, but one thing I know and that I know for sure—”

  “What’s that old man, the taste of Thunder Juice?”

  The room erupted with laughter.

  “I know a snake when I see one. And that old boy that flew in

  here the other day with his fancy feathers, slippery tongue, and dazzling charm is a snake if I ever did see one.” Babbler leaned over and whispered, “Mark my word boy’s, that’s Old Slew Foot

  himself.”

  “Old man, I don’t think you could see your hand in front of

  your face,” japed the stranger slamming his bottle on the bar. He motioned with his hand for another one. The bartender reached

  down and pulled the cork out of a cherry-brown bottle and

  handed it to him. He slid the bottle down to Babbler and laid two gold coins on the bar as he limped out.

  “Come sun-up, and this town will be nothing but a pile of

  rubble old man.”

  * * * * * * *

  The colosseum was filled to capacity. Beasts traveled from all over the valley and across the dead sea to witness and participate in the slaughter. Mageddon entered the colosseum to the crowd chanting praise. Lucky followed close behind and took his place by his side. Beasts of the worst kind haggled underneath the arena floor outside the dungeons to see who would fight first in the pit. In the 245

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  middle of the arena was a large silver plate bearing Mageddon’s

  face—it was the door and entrance to the abyss. Mageddon rose

  signaling the doom of the vanquished.

  Back in the cel s, the doors unlocked and opened. Bewildered,

  everyone filtered out into the corridor. Caboose ran out of his

  cel , pushed his way through the captives and embraced his Papa.

  “Papa, what’s going on?” he asked, eased by the touch of his

  Papa’s massive hands.

  “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it can’t be good. Look, I

  don’t know what is about to happen so stay close and do exactly

  what I say.”

  Their joyful reunion soon faded as the direness of their situ-

  ation unfurled. An iron door opened at the end of the corridor.

  Two gogs leashed with howlers entered and funneled everyone

  down the hal ways. The howlers snapped at the heels of those in

  the back pushing everyone out of the corridors onto the floor of the colosseum.

  Upon entering the colosseum, rocks and debris showered

  down, striking captives in the head. Euphoric laughter erupted

  across the crowd as the crowd mocked and taunted them.

  The gate shut behind them.

  Silence fell across the crowd and the captives.

  Around the colosseum, sixteen stone columns rose into the

  sky. Atop the columns, gogs pounded drums signaling two trol s

  to open the doors on the other side of the arena. Muscles pulsed down long hairy arms as they gripped the chains tightly in their scarred and mangled hands.

  The captives looked around unaware of the horrific doom

  about to befall them. “Click!” reverberated across the arena as the trol s opened two large wooden doors edged in iron.

  A human man and a moogle standing in the middle of the

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  captives ran for the opening. Deep within the dark and drafty

  tunnel, a thunderous roar resounded. Out of the shadow, erupted

  a large two-headed magondrea with eyes circling both heads. The

  beast reached down, its neck prickled with spikes, and grabbed

  the moogle in its jaws. It whipped the moogle back and forth and then threw it up into the crowd, which barbarical y devoured the moogle piece by piece.

  The human skidded to a stop and fell back in the dirt—the

  second head missing him only by inches. He crawled backwards,

  spun around on his hands and jumped to his feet. He weaved side

  to side, trying to run back to the captives gathered at the south end. The magondrea swung its tail knocking him into the captives; his lifeless body opened a gap all the way to the wal .

  Panic seized everyone. They ran around the arena pleading

  for their lives, looking for an escape, while Mageddon’s beasts

  spilled from the entrance, and through subterranean trap doors,

  killing mercilessly.

  Chesty moved Caboose behind him, crouched low, and spread

  open his arms. A giant three-eyed troll rushed through the

  captives swinging a huge club with protruding spikes. With mur-

  derous intent, it knocked captives out of the middle, up against the wal , and into the crowd.

  The troll paused, its eyes locked on Chesty. It raised the club

  above its head, yelled demonical y, and stormed forward.

  Chesty didn’t budge. He fearlessly stood his ground protect-

  ing his beloved son.

  He waited for the troll to get within striking distance, and

  before the beast could strike, he lunged forward, striking the

  beast’s hand, plunging the club into the head of a magondrea

  fighting beside it.

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  Several Ragooles swooped down raining fire from the sky

  lighting up the arena with a liquid inferno-of-death. Chesty and Caboose dove behind the dead magondrea using its body as a

  shield.

  From the other side of the magondrea, a howler charged

  Caboose head on. Caboose spotted it. He lowered his horn

  launching the howler up in the air, over Chesty, and into the fire still burning from the ragoole’s breath.

  Chesty, stunned from what he had just witnessed, looked at

  Caboose in utter disbelief. Where did you learn that?”

  Caboose, proud, but nervous, responded, “I’ve learned a lot

  in the last few months.”

  Caboose felt his side and looked up at Chesty. His eyes wid-

  ened and his voice jumped. “Papa, I forgot I had these,” he said, plunging his hand into his pocket.

  “What is it?” asked Chesty, moving to get a better look at the

  battle unfolding around them.

  “Dragon claws,” replied Caboose. “Dragon claws to be used

  for friends. I need water Papa.”

  “Water, for what?” asked Chesty dodging the club of a grike

  troll.

  “You’ll see. I need water Papa. Trust me; I know what I’m

  doing.”

  Mack ran around the pit overwhelmed with fear and regret. With

  the death of his father, and his mother lost, he felt alone. Scared, and without hope, he searched for his mother or Caboose or anyone he thought could help. He maneuvered behind a column to

  wedge himself between the column and the wal . For a moment,

  he thought he saw Caboose running across the crowd but then

  lost sight of him through the chaos unfolding
all around. He

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  jumped backwards and kicked his back legs, busting the jaw of

  a trol . He reached up, blocked a crawler’s leg and threw it in the dirt, tumbling both of them across the pit floor and out into the open. The crawler landed upside down. It flipped over, shook the dirt off, and then lunged at Mack. Mack jumped out of the way

  and ran through the crowd. The crawler spewed webbing from

  its mouth. The fibrous strands latched onto Mack’s back leg tripping him face first back into the dirt. With his face in the dirt, he searched for something to anchor him, only to find loose dirt tightly slipping through his fingers.

  The crawler winched him closer while Mack searched for

  something else to hold on to. He skidded past a dead gog and

  reached for its sword lying slightly out of reach. He stretched further and further final y taking the sword in hand. He turned to

  his back to cut himself free, but it was too late. The crawler stood right over him, fangs dripping venom. Mack screamed and thrust

  the sword in its bel y just as the crawler sunk its fangs deep in the top of his head, killing them both instantly.

  Chesty scouted the arena. Across the pit floor, he spotted a

  gog mounted on top of a thunder beast standing guard at the

  entrance next to the doors. Attached to his saddle horn, was a

  small brown, weathered water pouch. Chesty glanced back at

  Caboose and shouted, “Follow me!” He lowered his head and let

  out a deafening grunt that ricocheted out across the pit and up

  into the crowd. Chesty breathed in deeply, dropped to all fours, clawed the dirt with his front right leg and charged; Caboose

  scrambled to tuck in behind and keep up.

  Chesty bushwhacked through the battle knocking howlers,

  magondreas, trol s, crawlers and gogs up in the air with his enormous unicorn horn. Clubs, swords and spears rained down from

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  every side cutting, slashing, and piercing his flesh but Chesty’s pace could not be broken—he felt no pain; he had no fear.

  He cleared the battle-line and quickened his stride right

  before the gog noticed his approach. The gog pulled back on the

  reigns raising the thunder beast into the air right before Chesty’s horn pierced its side crushing it against the wal .

  Chesty, dazed from the impact, scrambled back to his feet

  and grabbed the water pouch. He tossed it through the air, over

  several gogs and howlers swinging to catch it, back to Caboose.