Travels With a Fairytale Monster

by Elizabeth Gannon

  She shook her head. “No, no. You don’t understand. They’ve done horrible things.”

  “I’ve done horrible things too.” He sounded almost insulted, as if she was questioning his malice. “Why, I’ve abducted you fine people, haven’t I? Is that not horrible enough to impress your managers?” He pursed his lips, his mind obviously racing for something else to sweeten the deal and make him irresistible to traitors looking for potential new hires to join their ranks. “Very well. I’ll just have to start torturing one of you, then.” He pointed at Ryle. “How about the pallid little swab on the end there? Torturing him would be the most senseless. It wouldn’t gain me anything. That would have to impress your bosses and show them that I am not a mere dabbler at my chosen craft.” He accentuated his words by bouncing his finger in the air, still pointing at Ryle as if deep in thought. “I can start with him and then move on to…”

  “Hey!” She cut him off. “No, I mean, we need to stop them because they’re animals! They’re destroying everything in their path!”

  “But on the other hand, their reign of terror has allowed us to meet.” He smiled innocently. “And I, for one, thank them for that gift, because I believe that we’ll be the very best of friends, for as long as your novelty keeps me entertained.”

  She frowned, the conversation not going as well as she’d anticipated.

  She needed to figure out what made this man tick…

  “Oh, I see I’ve upset you. I’m terribly sorry.” He gestured to the disreputable looking denizens of the tavern. "Our ensemble is a contemptible lot of killers, brigands, and thieves. But we all do so love a good tale of woe. We’d be glad to hear yours before we dispose of you.” He glanced at his companion at the other table. “Wouldn’t we, Dove?” He called to his victim. “Wouldn’t we just adore hearing of the misfortunes which have tragically befallen these travelers, and weigh their struggles against our own?”

  Silence. The woman remained meekly hidden beneath the hood of her poncho, not moving.

  Uriah chuckled in amusement again, seemingly delighting in the fact that he’d broken such a beautiful woman so completely. Whoever the girl had been, she wasn’t that anymore. Uriah had taken all that away from her, the same way he’d apparently taken her from her family. He’d scarred her face, taken her sight, and now seemed to take a sadistic thrill in parading his disfigured creation around so that everyone could bear witness to the horrors he was capable of.

  Taylor made up her mind to kill him when all of this was over.

  “I apologize, I didn’t even wait for you to introduce yourselves before monopolizing the conversation, now did I?” Uriah looked contrite. “That was rude of me. Please, what are your names?”

  “I’m Taylor, that’s Ryle and that’s Dominion.”

  “Ah, how interesting.” He mocked, leaning back in his seat. “And what grand and terrible events bring you into the welcoming embrace of my little circle of infamy?”

  “As I was saying, we are trying to stop Baseland from overthrowing our government.”

  “If there’s time.” Ryle chimed in automatically. “We gotta do some other stuff first.”

  “I see.” Uriah nodded slowly, then glanced over his shoulder at his prisoner, his face amused. “Hear that, Dove? They say they’re freedom fighters on a secret mission to save the world.”

  “If there’s time.” Ryle finished for him.

  “Yes, we can only hope that time will be ample and you aren’t too rushed when the opportunity for glory presents itself.” Uriah casually took a sip of his beverage, while waiting for his partner to respond to his earlier question. “We could be heroes, Dove.” He teased, as if trying to persuade her to their cause. “Just think of that!”

  The scarred woman continued to huddle silently in the dark, seemingly all but trembling in fear.

  “Now, as payment, we could offer you what you found in our bag, which has substantial value.” She gestured to the magic wand poking out of the top of her pack, which was sitting on the bar across the room. “And I don’t know what kind of reward the king would offer as thanks for helping us out like this,” she continued, “but I’m sure that it would…”

  Across the room, several thieves burst into the tavern and began to talk loudly amongst themselves.

  “…be enough to set you up for life and ensure that you never have to…”

  The noise grew louder still and seemed to be annoying Uriah.

  He held up a finger, halting her words. “I hate to have to ask you to pause this gripping tale, but I’m afraid that in this instance, I must.” He turned in his chair to call to the men. “Can we have some quiet, please? This is currently a place of business and your merriment is most distracting.”

  The men ignored him.

  “…you’d never have to work again, because…” She continued, before once again being cut off.

  “Would you excuse me for one moment, please?” Uriah stood up from the table and sauntered over to where the loud discussion was taking place. He tapped one of the men on the shoulder and addressed the assembly. “Children, father is speaking to these nice potential clients and current victims.” He kicked the man in the side of the knee, dropping him like a stone, then smashed him in the head with the rum bottle. The man toppled to the floor and Uriah kicked him in the face with one leather boot, sending the man sprawling. He held up a finger to his lips to indicate that he wanted silence. “Shhh!”

  The other two men drew their swords in anger, but were quickly disarmed by him in a display of outstanding swordsmanship. He poised the blades of his swords inches from their chests in warning, then Uriah motioned with his head back to Taylor, his eyes focused on his men. “Please be civilized and suppress your baser instincts for a few moments, so that I can get all of this poor girl’s money and leave her for dead somewhere. If I have to come over here again…” He casually drew the tip of each sword across the men’s necks, just hard enough to draw blood. The men nodded quickly and raced from the tavern, dragging their bleeding friend with them.

  Uriah turned and walked back to the booth, adjusting his coat on the way and putting his swords away. He glanced at his companion as he strolled by her table. “They get that from your side of the family, Dove. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if you didn’t coddle them so much, they’d learn responsibility. Even lawless drunken cutthroats need boundaries.” He sighed in frustrated resignation. “But that’s what I get for going into business with such a joyous free-spirit, I suppose.”

  Silence. The woman continued attempting to hide in the darkness, trying not to draw his attention and obviously hoping he’d forget about her if she just stayed quiet. Taylor could only imagine the kinds of things that she’d had to endure.

  “My apologies for that disturbance.” Uriah told them, returning to the booth. He gestured at them theatrically. “Please, continue.”

  “Umm…” She tried to remember where she’d been.

  “I believe you were hypothesizing on the quantity of riches and acclaim your king will gratefully shower upon me, should I decide to assist you, his chosen people.” He finished off his beverage. “It was quite an engaging tale, really. I found myself enraptured.” He turned to look at his prisoner. “Weren’t you on the edge of your seat, Dove?” He faced them again and began refilling his glass. “It’s positively spellbinding.”

  “Umm… yes.” Taylor nodded. “Lots of reward.”

  “A whole lot.” Ryle quickly added.

  They both turned to look at Dom expectantly, but he simply stared back at them, his face growing more and more confused. She kicked him under the table.

  “Oh.” Realization dawned on his beautiful but clueless face. “Oh, yes.” His mind visibly raced as he tried to think of a good lie. “The payment would be… well… all the goats you could carry.” He told the pirate persuasively.

  Uriah’s smile grew and he lounged back in his chair again, looking over his shoulder. “Hear that, Dove? ‘All the go
ats I can carry’.” He whistled softly, as if impressed. “And as you know from our frequent discussions and experiments concerning that very topic, I can carry a lot of goats.” He looked puzzled. “And why exactly is it that you have never offered me all the goats I could carry? Perhaps if I named that as my price, someone would finally appear on my doorstep to claim you.” His eyes narrowed in mock fury. “Or maybe you just want to keep all those goats for yourself.” He pointed an accusatory finger at his prisoner. “That’s it, isn’t it, you goat-hoarder!?!” He chuckled merrily at his joke.

  Taylor cleared her throat again, trying to get him to focus on the matter at hand. “The point is, that I’m from a village on the river, and I’ve seen what the Baselanders will do if they take over. I mean, they utterly annihilated my village. Burned it to the ground.” She tried not to cry, thinking of the horrors she’d seen. “Tortured and killed everyone I knew...”

  “Oh, how positively tragic.” Uriah sounded more amused than anything, and made no effort to hide it, as if he was glad to finally have something interesting to do with his day. He casually put his feet up on the table, showing that despite being a pirate and not in any way around horses, he still wore spurs. Taylor guessed it was because he just wanted to add to his image. He absently jingled a little melody with them, seemingly unable to sit still he was so excited.

  At the next table, his partner accidentally dropped her mug and it crashed onto the floor. The bartender rushed forward to help the poor girl clean up the shards.

  Uriah laughed as if that struck him as funny for some reason, and nonchalantly ate one of the peanuts from a bowl in front of him. “As I’ve said, I do love a good spot of tragedy in the morning, particularly when it befalls strangers.” He handed one of the nuts to the pet on his shoulder. The brightly colored feathered animal quickly consumed the treat and made a hissing sort of sound. Uriah ignored it and casually ate another peanut, his voice utterly calm and insincere. “But I find that it’s really the worst moments which allow us to enjoy the best.” He popped another nut into his mouth. “We have to treasure the good times, don’t we?” He held a hand over his heart. “It’s like my own dear mother used to say: ‘Uriah, you can’t spell ‘misadventure’ without ‘adventure.’” He nodded to himself, then looked over at his companion. “Isn’t that right, Dove? Don’t the nightmares just make the dawn all the sweeter?”

  Silence.

  He chuckled to himself in contented amusement, obviously delighted with his life.

  “So, if I’m understanding you,” he chewed another peanut thoughtfully, “what you want is my assistance smuggling you out of our happy valley and overland to the capital, all without being stopped by this aforementioned evil Baseland army which is, at present, ravaging the innocent countryside and laying waste to our idyllic coastal villages? And for this, I will be rewarded with the silver you carry— and incidentally, kudos for the unbelievable cheek of trying to bargain with something which is already in my possession— and the unauthorized promise of possibly receiving gold and/or quantities of livestock from your king at some indeterminate date in the future?”

  “Well… yes.” She confirmed, glad to see that the meeting was actually going according to plan for the first time, even if he didn’t seem all that thrilled with the deal she was offering.

  He put his arms along the back of the booth, casually jingling his spur again.

  His prisoner coughed.

  He ignored it. “And just why exactly am I smuggling an ogre?” He asked calmly. “Especially one that every soldier in this kingdom and in Baseland is searching for at the moment?”

  She stared at him in horrified silence, not expecting him to recognize Dom like that or somehow already received news of his existence at all.

  “Um… wrong guy?” Ryle tried, not even sounding convinced by his own explanation.

  “It’s a different member of an extinct race?” Uriah repeated dryly, as if asking for confirmation, then looked over his shoulder at his captive again. “It’s a different sole survivor of a vanished people, Dove.” He recapped nonchalantly, in case she didn’t hear and was confused. “False alarm. I daresay that given enough time, you and I could surely bring their numbers back to life however. Why, today alone, we seem to have confirmed the existence of two of their downtrodden kind.” He poured himself another drink. “If only we could convince them to somehow breed and bring the species back from the brink.” He took a sip of his rum. “We’d be heroes. Perhaps receive an armload of goats for our trouble.”

  “No, no.” Taylor’s face went pale. “He’s… not an ogre.” She quickly interjected. “At all.”

  “Hi. I am from the Grizzwood.” Dom added in his deep rumbly voice. “Ignore me.”

  Uriah slowly turned back around in his chair and looked at him for a moment, then gave a sharp bark of genuine laughter. “Ha!” He immediately cleared his throat, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I didn’t mean to laugh at your obvious lie. I sometimes forget that not everyone is as talented at deceit as I am. Forgive me.” He straightened in his seat. “Allow me to try that again, yes?” He took on a pleased tone, suddenly bubbling over with new enthusiasm. “Really? Why, what a remarkable coincidence.” He held his hand to his chest. “I too am of the Grizzwood!” He glanced over at his companion. “Ransom, this strapping young gentleman is from our neck of the woods!” He looked back to them. “How extraordinary. What a small world we live in. I thought you looked familiar. Perhaps we are related.”

  Ransom gave no indication that she heard him, but Taylor was sure that she didn’t come from the Grizzwood, no matter what her captor claimed. Uriah was almost certainly born in that hellish quagmire, based on his accent and revolting line of work, but Ransom’s exotic features and skin tone placed her as coming from the far-off islands to the south, probably Adithia. Taylor knew very little about the Union of the Southern Isles or its people, but the thought of it filled her with both anger and sorrow in this instance, and it wasn’t just because those islands were allied with Baseland. The woman now called “Ransom” had come a long way to be disfigured, held captive and robbed of her identity by Uriah. There was only one reason why a man like Uriah kept a woman captive and it wasn’t for her conversation.

  Bastard.

  She was definitely killing him when they arrived at their destination. Yes, Taylor’s country was at war with Ransom’s, but no one deserved to be tortured like this.

  Uriah put his feet back on the floor, producing the jingling of spurs again.

  The woman at the neighboring table coughed several more times.

  Uriah snickered to himself for some reason, and clapped his hands together four times in utter mirth. He got up from the booth to walk over to Ransom, leaning down to put his arm around his victim and pulled her closer so that his shoulder was pressed against hers.

  The action made Taylor’s skin crawl, instantly bringing to mind all the awful things Dom must have endured in his poor little life. All the many times he’d been mistreated and hurt and been forced to endure people putting their hands on him without permission. Horrible people doing horrible things to her giant, and Taylor hadn’t been there to stop them.

  Dom’s scars weren’t as instantly apparent as this woman’s were, but they doubtlessly ran just as deep.

  She looked down at the table and then at Dom, feeling so unbelievably sorry that she hadn’t been there to protect him from the Uriahs of the world. People who took his beautiful innocence and tried to turn him into a monster.

  Taylor wasn’t a violent person by nature, but she would gladly hunt down and slaughter every one of those people.

  Starting with Uriah.

  Uriah leaned closer to the woman he was holding against her will and gestured to them with his free hand, as if presenting them to her, an action no doubt lost on the woman because she was blind. “Dove, allow me to set this delightful mise en scène for you so that you can fully appreciate how marvelously offbeat it is: one pr
eppy looking young man with a hollow expression, like he’s been damaged by our all too tragic world, one ginger haired young woman who looks like she’s starving, and one giant with smoldering eyes seemingly hewn from the lurid fancies of a thousand doe-eyed schoolgirls and brought to life for their giddy satisfaction.” His voice grew more chipper. “A giant from our very own plutonian homeland, it seems.” He nodded to himself, looking pleased. “There are truly moments in life which make me wish I were a painter, and witnessing this motley collection of sprightly characters is certainly one of them.” He turned to look at his companion as if just remembering something. “Have you ever painted, Dove? It’s a remarkable experience. True, it might be difficult given your luckless and regrettable disability, but a true artist sees with the heart, not the eyes.” He looked down at her. “I dated an artist once. She…” He paused for a beat. “Wait, have I told you this story?” That sounded like an actual question for some reason, but he didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “An extraordinary woman. In addition to her mastery of portraiture, she had this way of making the most delicious petit fours that you’ve ever tasted.” He made a delighted sound, as though tasting them again. “Red velvet. Simply scrumptious. The icing alone was…”

  “Does this have a point?” Taylor called, cutting off his nonsense. “Because we’re kind of on a timetable.”

  Uriah watched her for a moment, as if too shocked to speak.

  “A ‘timetable.’?” He repeated amazement evident in his tone, then turned to look at his captive. “Oh, they’re on a timetable, Dove.” He summarized for her again, then pointed at his prisoner and back at himself. “We’re so sorry to be getting in the way of your undoubtedly busy schedule, and are deeply apologetic if your abduction comes at an inconvenient moment for you. Our sorrow and contrition over the obvious untimeliness of this kidnapping simply knows no bounds,” his face darkened, clearly not liking the fact that he’d been interrupted, “but it’s too late to reschedule it and if you don’t mind, my partner and I are having a private conversation.” He pointed at the woman again, as if Taylor might have overlooked her presence. “Since you are in need of our assistance, and your lives are currently in our hands, one would think that you’d be a little more respectful and understanding of the fact that not everything in life is about you.” His tone gave the indication that he was feeling genuinely affronted. “This is pirate business and it doesn’t concern you people in the slightest.”