by Gary Foshee
turned and hissed at the temple. “Kill them all!”
* * * * * * *
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You could see it in their eyes; you could read it on their faces; their silence speaking louder than ten thousand Bugler fish
blowing triumphantly at morning’s dawn. Minds raced. Hearts
constricted. Stomachs churned. Hope? It sank to the bottom, for-
ever lost in the muddy blood-red water of The Redmadafa. The
rock, the cleft rock from which the headwaters flowed, closed its mouth. The river stopped flowing. The wind stopped blowing.
Trees and plants in the outer courts and all throughout the land withered in the plots where they had been planted. The sun and
moon turned to blood and darkness descended upon the land.
The hum of death filled the air.
Onuka and Caboose watched the battle from atop the East
tower. Stumbling down the stairs, they trudged their way to the
main sanctuary. Onuka searched his mind. Surely there had to be
something in the scrol s; something overlooked. They emerged
out onto the front. All eyes looked at him waiting for him to
speak.
He stood, speechless.
“Onuka, is it over? Did The Augur crush the serpent?” came
a heavily accented voice from the crowd.”
He tried to respond, but confusion gripped his tongue, stam-
mering his words. He didn’t understand what had happened. He
didn’t know what would become of them.
“Onuka, what’s going on? Is it over?”
He examined each face. He noted each weary eye. He gasped,
shaking his head, “He’s dead. He’s dead.”
A young human boy sitting at the front with a blue shirt
stood up and yelled, “The serpent is dead, the serpent is dead!”
The crowd cheered and embraced each other. Others danced
around.
“No! No! yelled Onuka. The Augur…is dead.”
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“What. What did he say?” said an elderly woman from the
middle. “Did he say The Augur is dead?”
Whispers flooded the sanctuary. Heads shook in disbelief.
“Onuka, please say it isn’t so. The Augur…he can’t be dead.”
Onuka didn’t reply. Everything he had ever believed in
was lying at the bottom of The Redmadafa. Caboose, looked at
Onuka, swallowed a massive blossom berry of fear and nervously
addressed the crowd:
“I…you….many of you don’t know me but my Papa was
an elder of this temple. Several months ago I ran away
from home and found myself outside The Scorpion Pass
Gate. I met a man named Lucy, Lucky Lucy he called himself. I was deceived by his splendor. I entered the gate
and found myself trapped in the valley of the shadow of
death. Bones; millions and millions of bones covered the
valley floor. Tormented souls cried out to me from the
pit, begging for rest, begging for one drop of living water
from The Redmadafa.
In the colosseum, I met another man, or…creature.
His name was Slithler. He sounded like Lucky. His eyes
looked like Lucky. His tongue spoke with the same cun-
ning and deception, as Lucky. Slithler and Lucky are one
and the same. He is a master of disguise and the Father of
Lies—I now know that Lucy was short for Lucifer.
I don’t know what is going on. But when I was in
the colosseum, staring Slithler right in the face, moments
from death myself, The Augur came and rescued me.
Before he did though, in that split moment, I looked
into Lucifer’s eyes and I saw fear, a fear like I’ve never
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seen before. His body cringed. His eyes groveled. He was
scared—really scared.
The Augur brought me back to Thunder Juice Town.
Before he left, he told me to not trust in my own under-
standing. He said things were going to happen that were
impossible to understand, and that if I would trust him,
my path would be made straight.
My Papa died in the colosseum. He gave his life so
I could live. A life I am unworthy to experience. A life
where I can serve others and tell of The Augur’s amazing
love for this great big circle we live on. He promised me
I would see my Papa again. He promised me he would
never leave me nor forsake me.
I am going to stand upon those promises. This is not
the time to fall apart and abandon the faith you know
to be true. Will you stand with me? Will you stand up
now? The Redmadafa will flow; when you see The White
Wooly, it will flow once again.”
Onuka, remembering what the ancient scroll foretold, smiled
and with confidence shouted:
“Who can save themselves from the slimy pit? Who can
approach His Majesty without a bloodstain?
Surely he has taken up our griefs and carried away our
sorrows. His Majesty has laid on Him the punishment of
us all. It was the will of His Majesty to crush him, to make his life the bloodstain.
The Augur will see His seed. He will see the light of life once 302
THE REDMADAFA
again. He will divide the spoil with the strong, because He
poured out his soul unto death so that we may have life.
He will arise and smite the serpent. He will arise and crush the shadow of death. He will arise and take back what is
rightfully his!”
* * * * * * *
Legion, hearing Slithler’s command, surveyed the wall and yelled,
“Arsonon!” Arsonon stepped forward, his body flaming, ready to
unleash destruction upon the town.
“Fly over the wall and unleash your fury.”
“But, what about the shield?”
“Didn’t you hear Slithler? It’s down!”
Arsonon hesitated, to fly into the shield meant certain death.
Legion, angry that his orders were being questioned, and not carried out in a timely manner, picked Arsonon up and threw him
over the wal . He flew through the air and sideswiped the corner of the tower, splashing into the outpost barracks instantly disintegrating, engulfing the barracks in dark yellow and red flames.
Arsonon hauntingly rose from the fire gaining strength and
power. “Yes…Yes…Time to burn!”
Legion, without saying a word, raised his arms and dropped
them rapidly. Arrows of fire, boulders and spears shot over the
wal , exploding houses, killing guards and igniting an inferno
that spread rapidly house-to-house, building-to-building.
Slithler’s dark celestial guards took to the skies and punched
over the wal . Galamus and several others from the Southern
Guard dispersed, and with swords flaming, clashed in mid-air,
dripping sparks down over the town—they were allowed to
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protect key individuals, but that was al , no further involvement until the signal was given.
Legion stayed directing fire upon the wall to bring it down.
Six large magondreas with a dragon-carved battering ram charged
the gate, ramming it over and over. Overhead, four soldiers rolled a large black caldron filled with pitch and tar to the edge of the wall and heaved. The tar dumped down on the magondreas covering t
hem in a black sticky slime, soaking their heads, necks,
and backs. The magondreas looked up and watched a torch spin
through the air toward them—it dropped inches from their feet.
One of them reached over and spit on the fire, and then roared
loudly at the miss. A Ragoole swooped out of the clouds eager to join the battle and spewed fire down the wal , setting ablaze the magondreas.
Fire burned from their head all the way down to the end of
their tails. The magondreas dropped the battering ram and ran
toward the river. In the water, the bugler fish remained stead-
fast as they made their approach. The magondreas jumped in the
water and splashed around trying to extinguish the fire. The fish ascended from bloody waters ambushing them in great numbers. Holding long strings of vines in their teeth, they wrapped them around their legs and pulled them into the depths of The
Redmadafa, drowning them. Their lifeless bodies surfaced down-
stream and disappeared out of sight.
Rammer and his father tried to exit down stairs but the fire spread fast. Running back up the stairs, they jumped through a window
onto the roof and headed for the temple—they had gone back
to retrieve a few things, never expecting the breech. A Ragoole
spotted them, cocked its wings, and dove, raining fire across the rooftops. Rammer and his Dad jumped roof-to-roof evading
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the fiery onslaught. Rammer jumped onto a clay-tiled roof held
together with clumps of mud and grass, and slipped. The tiles fell off the roof, shattering on the ground below.
“Rammer, grab my hand,” cried his father, reaching for him
before he fell over the side. He reached to maintain a grip, but slid down the steep angle, over the ledge and crashed right on top of the Ragoole. Desperately trying to hang on, he dug his claws deep into its back.
The Ragoole spun over trying to shake him loose. Hanging
upside down, one of Rammer’s claws caught between the
Ragoole’s wing sockets, keeping him securely anchored. It dove
in and out, around buildings and trees, and then through an old
barn, crashing through its doors trying to knock Rammer off.
Scared, he hung on for dear life. Rammer reached for a hay hook, stuck it in its wing, hitching a ride from the barn. Stretching for the hook, he lost his grip and slid down its back, his left claw catching its tail; he whipped around behind the beast like a flag caught in a storm.
The Ragoole reached back and snapped repeatedly at
Rammer wildly swinging off-sync with its tail. Rammer fran-
tical y climbed up its tail and back onto its back. He grabbed
the hook and, not thinking through what he was about to do,
jumped for its ear, hooking it. The Ragoole made a hard right
and dropped rapidly out of the sky, crashing head-first into the University’s Research Center.
Fire exploded through the windows and door ejecting
Rammer from the building. He rolled across the ground and
jumped back to his feet, dazed but ful y alert. The Ragoole lunged from the building and spotted him running for the fountain.
Rammer, uncertain about what to do or where to go, jumped
over the fountain like it was Meteor Rock in The Little Round 305
Dr. Gary Warren Foshee
About and headed toward the market. Unable to climb due to an injured wing, the evil beast swooped over the yard and crashed
into the fountain, toppling it over, spewing water into the sky.
Water poured out of the fountain and raced down the hil , over-
taking Rammer, sweeping him through the streets in its torrent.
Rammer whipped down the street, around corners, and through
the alleys, riding a wave of excitement. He crashed into several poles and storefronts before final y washing-out in the market
square.
Dizzy from the wild ride, he pulled himself up. Feeling a
strange heat beating against his back, he spun around and found
himself eyeball-to-eyeball with the deadly beast. It drew back and opened its mouth. Rammer, frozen with fright, looked deep into
its throat as the pilot light kindled. Fire raced up its elongated throat, into its mouth, and across its barbed, slimy tongue.
Rooter, jumped off the roof with a wooden fence post raised
over his head, and bounced its head off the ground, flattening it like a fly.
“Nobody messes with my son. Nobody!” he said, smacking
the post in his dirty cut hand. A puff of smoke smoldered out of its mouth, as if begging for mercy, as the ragoole lifted its mangled head and looked at Rooter.
Rooter, with a new vision for life and family, swung the post,
delivering the final deathblow. “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”
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C H A P T E R 1 4
The White Wooly
Seven horns: Seven eyes. They fell down
and worshipped him.
“What was that?”
“What was what, I didn’t hear anything?”
“I thought I heard something in the gul y,” said a gog
patrolling outside the western wal . “Come on, we’d better check it out.”
Traegor traveled for days through the mountains and across
the flat lands. He witnessed the destruction of Guma and heard
about the siege forming around Thunder Juice Town. He pushed
his body to the limit to make it back in time knowing Onuka
would need his experience in battle.
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He crept up the gul y, slipping quietly beneath a pile of brown
teeth. His heart raced seeing the gogs jump down into the gul y, making their way toward him. The gul y was a wash-out full of
green spikes and brown teeth. He had slipped past the perimeter
guards and wasn’t far from the outer West wal .
“Look,” said the gog, bending down to the ground moving
the dirt with his finger. “Tracks: fresh tracks.” He looked up and whispered, “Someone is here and close.”
The other guard dropped to the ground and sniffed.
“Howler—I’d know that stench anywhere.”
Traegor tried to control his breathing but his back rose mov-
ing the pile on top of him. His eyes glowered through the cracks, scanning the gul y floor. He could hear a faint whisper and the
sound of rocks crushing beneath their feet but couldn’t see them.
They followed the tracks to a corner in the gul y where a large
pile of brown teeth was trapped by the crooked bend. Their eyes
looked down into the pile. They nodded at each other and slowly
unsheathed their swords and raised the blood-stained blades
over their heads.
Whispering softly, they counted, “One, two, three.”
Red and silver marked the sky as their blades plunged into
the pile. Traegor lunged forward hitting one of the gogs in the
stomach knocking him to the ground.
“Spy! It’s a spy!” yelled the other guard. “Get him before he
reaches the wal .”
One by one gogs and grike trol s rose from their sleep and
scanned the area for any sign of him.
“There he is,” yelled an ugly lop-sided troll emerging from
behind a boulder.
Spears and arrows pierced the dirt all around Traegor as he
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ran up the gul y toward the wal . From the wal , a guard noticed the commotion and signaled his commander, pointing at Traegor.
“Sir, he’s one of us. What do you want us to do?
”
“Protect him. Protect him now!”
The tower guard looked down the wal , “Fire!” he shouted.
A barrage of faint thuds reverberated as spears and arrows
hurtled down all around Traegor taking out gogs and trol s.
With a suppressive fire-support showering down from the wal ,
Traegor made his escape up the gul y and through the bodies pil-
ing up along the trail.
Spotting the unruly commotion from above, a fire breath-
ing ragoole flew into the gul y, igniting the sandy turf behind
Traegor with a stream of flames. With only a few yards left before reaching the wal , Traegor jumped over a gog trying to block his way, and dug his claws deep into the cracks quickly ascending its rough, rocky face. The Ragoole spiraled out of the gul y and up
the wall after him.
“Behind you!” yelled a soldier at the top of the wall pointing
downward.
Traegor spun, kicked off the wal , and landed on the head
of the ragoole who was opening its mouth to cook him alive. He
wrapped his two front paws around its mouth and squeezed, but-
toning its mouth shut. The ragoole crested the top of the western wal . Traegor waited patiently and then stepped off at the top like he had been riding a rope ladder carrying supplies to the towers.
Friend and foe cheered at his spectacular display of military skill and agility. He bowed momentarily and then disappeared down
the other side.
The tunnels filled quickly with the sick and elderly. Dust leaked from the ceiling, joggled loose by the constant pounding from
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above. A stale, damp smell penetrated the air. Caboose walked
up and down the tunnels comforting fearful eyes and dim faces,
learning about life with every step. Little children darted and
dashed around people playing hide-and-seek, oblivious to the
danger lurking outside. Rooter and Rammer filtered down the
tunnel, final y finding his wife and Jambles.
“Dad, what took so long,” asked Jambles, happy to see them
both. “Did you have to wrestle a big ragoole out of the sky
while jumping across the rooftops to save Rammer from the
claws-of-death?”
Their eyes winced toward each other. Rooter smiled, “That’s
exactly what happened Jambles. Only there were twenty of them.”
Jambles shook his head, not believing a word, “And I bet the