Fat Barbarian: A Humorous Fantasy Adventure (Fat Barbarian Saga Book 1)

by Richard Hedley

  Bardulf stared at the sword. “Go on.”

  “The lions are at the command of the undying creatures who live in the river. You need to give them baby birds to get by, but not just any baby birds, they have to be birds that live by the ocean. These birds allow the creatures, called mereswine by some, to live forever.“

  "Where do I get these birds? Is the ocean nearby? And why do I need the birds?" It sounded like a pain in the ass.

  "You have walk east for a short time and you'll be at the beach. You can find the birds there. I mean, you’ll be at the beach by the ocean, obviously, because you can have a beach at a lake, but— yes, stay on track,” said the sword. "You need the birds because as soon as you get on the bridge, you must feed the mereswine or they’ll wake up the lions and you’ll be lion food. Of course, they won't bother me because they can't eat me."

  "But they can only come at me one at a time once I'm on the bridge," said Bardulf. "I could just use you to kill them one by one, that would be easy. One on one I can kill lions all day."

  "I guess you forgot that I can only kill the red dragon. I can't harm anything else."

  "Nothing except my sanity," said Bardulf.

  “Look, you want sanity, you’re going to have to do better,” Aargh said. “I know you need your hands, but I can’t be in a scabbard and I can’t be gagged, because then it makes me crazy, like you would be if I gagged you.”

  “Does it make it hard for you to breathe?” Bardulf asked, genuinely curious.

  “Sort of. Look the point is, I can maybe not talk so much, but you can’t muzzle me. It isn’t good for my health.”

  “Okay,” said Bardulf. He took the sword and put in between his light leather shirt and his rucksack. “How’s this?”

  “Oh, this is great! I can see everything and I can ever whisper and you can hear it.” The sword was silent for a moment, then whispered. “What’s your name?”

  “Don’t you fucking dare whisper in my ear. That shit’s just wrong.”

  “Okay.”

  Bardulf set off for the coast. He arrived in the evening and settled down. He woke up the next day and hunted for birds, young birds. It didn't take long before he saw slender white birds flying around and returning to the rocks.

  “Aargh, what about those?” The barbarian pointed at the birds.

  “Seagulls? Those are perfect,” the sword said. “Much better than, say, egrets. Live without egrets, I’ve always said.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘live without regrets’?” Bardulf asked.

  “Oh, for a mortal, sure. To a magic sword a life without egrets is better. Egrets, um, excrete things that are corrosive to magic swords. Well, all swords, really. And chain mail and hauberks. Anything metal, I guess.”

  Bardulf climbed up the rocks while the birds were away. He looked and found a nest young chicks. This should work, but he'd have to ask the damn sword.

  “These will work?”

  “Perfect,” the sword replied. “Stuff ‘em in a bag and let’s get out of here.”

  Bardulf grabbed a few baby seagulls, stuffed them in his bag, climbed down the cliff and headed back to Blue Castle.

  The magnificent lions still lay in a distinguished slumber across the path. Bardulf wondered if they’d ever woken up or if they were in some fucked up magical sleep. Probably that, because magic sucks. The barbarian stepped over them with care. He walked toward the bridge and soon two long gray creatures swam up to him.

  "You must have a gift for us or we will wake the lions to slay you. We demand you give us birds that cannot yet fly, so that we may remain alive for all days.“

  “Immortal mammals of the sea, I have brought you young birds as tribute,” said the Ramekin as he threw the chicks to the creatures.

  The creatures made short work of their meal. Their leader spoke again. "You have fed us well. You may pass."

  With that, Bardulf walked across the bridge to enter Blue Castle. Finding the birds had been easier than finding antelopes and catnip would have been. He also decided that finding a regular sword was at the top of his to-do list.

  As soon as the barbarian stepped into the castle, a giant woman appeared. She wore blue armor with a gold star painted on the chest plate. Bardulf decided she must be a sheriff or something. They tended to dress like that.

  "Halt" she cried in a booming voice. "You are under arrest!"

  Bardulf swung the red sword at her, but the sword turned to mist and passed harmlessly over the woman.

  "I told you that wouldn’t work!" Aargh yelled.

  The huge woman grabbed Bardulf. She was remarkably strong and slapped him in irons with ease. Bardulf realized he was lucky his sword didn’t work on her. He might not have survived the fight.

  "But why?" Asked Bardulf. "Why am I under arrest?"

  “Transporting young gulls across stately lions for immoral porpoises!” she yelled as she threw Bardulf into a deep dark hole.

  Jailhouse Rock

  “That was odd,” said a voice in Bardulf’s ear.

  “I told you not to whisper in my ear, sword,” he replied with a growl. "Just shut your pie-hole while I get us out of here."

  The barbarian looked around, eyes adjusting to the dark. They were in a large dungeon or a cave. Either way, it was a prison. The size didn’t matter to him because he hated being in confined spaces.

  “Okay. I’ll try. I mean, I don’t have a pie-hole or really even a mouth, but I get what you mean. There is so much going on though and—. Shutting up now, Bardulf.”

  There was a rustle in the corner and the barbarian turned his head toward it. His could make out a person in a pile of rags in the corner.

  "Hello again, Bardulf the Ramekin,” came a raspy voice. "Don't you recognize me?"

  "No, I do not." He seemed to be encountering a lot of mysterious people with raspy voices and it was getting on his nerves. Why couldn’t someone like Drusilla be in the dungeon, he asked himself.

  "I was the old woman who told you where to find the alligators," said the man. "And now I find myself here in this dungeon with you, Bardulf the Ramekin.”

  “I don’t understand. You were an old woman, now you are an old man,” Bardulf said. "What happened?"

  “Some foul magic, I suppose. A high and mighty sorcerer asked me for directions,” The old man stood and scratched his crotch. “Sorcerers all think they’re so much better than everyone. Called me a ditch witch. I told him to get a map. He turned me in a man, dropped some snow on my head, and called me a ‘blizzard wizard,’ of all things.”

  “That’s a dick move,” the barbarian replied as tested the bars on the cell door.

  “He-he,” the wizard said. “I see what you did there.”

  The barbarian paced around the room. It looked like it was a natural room in a cave. The only obvious way in or out was through the locked door.

  "How did you get here?" Bardulf asked. "You're a long way from the red castle and City Fosdick.”

  "Well, you know how it is," he said. "Someone accused me of a crime, made terrible allegations. But I couldn't deny the allegations or defy the allegators."

  “Has your magic told you of a way to get out?” asked Bardulf.

  "You see that door over there," said the old man pointing to a door right across from the jail cell and several feet from the stairs leading up to what Bardulf presumed was the rest of the world. "That's where the jailer lives. And I have a plan."

  “You have a plan?”

  "I do. But, I will need help." The wizard walked over to the to the guard door. "I need somebody to hold his door shut while I climb up the stairs."

  "You want me to hold the door closed while you escape?" Bardulf asked. "You must take me for a fool. What is to stop you from escaping while leaving me behind!"

  "No," the man protested. "It's not like that." He pointed at the door. "You hold that door shut and that will give me time to conjure a spell that will put a boulder between us and where the guards are as we escape."
/>   "I don't see how that's going to work," said the Ramekin. "After all, I'm holding the door."

  "When I tell you to you run toward the stairs, I'll cast the spell. After I cast the spell, it takes three seconds for the rock to appear. All you have to do is get up the stairs a little after I summon the boulder.”

  "Why wouldn't you just cast the spell and leave me here with the guards?" he asked, part of him wondering what condition in a magic user’s life would require him to summon a boulder.

  "Oh, Bardulf, that's easy," said the old man. "I don't know if it'll work. If it doesn't work, I'd wind up in jail with you again, which seems like it would be bad for me. If it does work, you’d hunt me down. I’m old, not stupid.”

  “Okay,” said the Ramekin. “Let’s try your plan. But there is still the little problem of getting on the other side of the cell door.”

  “He-he, look at the door. It was designed by a fucking moron,” said the wizard. “All you have to do is lift it up a bit and you can set the door in the hallway.”

  The barbarian shrugged the door up and carried it into the hallway, jamming it in front of the door where the jailers were supposed to be. A second later, the door rattled as the guards tried to open to jammed door. He was sure they wouldn’t all the complicated magic anymore and ran up the stairs.

  The old man moved behind the Ramekin and up the stairs with more speed than the barbarian thought possible. He followed with two long, quick steps around and past the wizard. He continued up the stairs, ready in case there was something else that might bar their way.

  The old man glanced back at the warrior and finished the spell with a flourish of his hands and the word “Petram!” Bardulf’s eyes grew wide as a boulder appeared between them. There was an outrush of air that sat Bardulf back onto the stairs.

  He watched as it rolled down the stairs and disappeared, leaving the old man’s crushed body behind. The massive rock continued down the stairs. It rolled down the hallway, smashing the door Bardulf had used to wedge the jailers in their room.

  The guards burst forth from their room and stopped, confused by the crushed and broken body on the stairs. They were so distracted, they didn’t notice Bardulf as he moved around a corner and out of sight.

  "I could've told you that wouldn’t work,” said Aargh. "Things like that never do."

  “Do you know that from your superior ability to be annoying?"

  "No, it's just that I'm ancient and I've seen a lot of things," replied the sword. "What are you going to do now you're in Blue Castle?"

  "Kill the blue dragon. Seems I've got that to do before I can rescue Queen Prunella."

  “Won’t you need the blue sword to kill the blue dragon? Stands to reason, doesn't it?"

  "It's around here somewhere," said Bardulf.

  "No, it's not around here," said the sword in a tired voice. "If you'd only listen…"

  "Okay, I'm listening," said Bardulf. "Where’s the blue sword?"

  "I tried to tell you earlier, but you put a gag on me instead." Aargh fell silent for a moment. "Well, don't you have anything to say?”

  "What, like ‘where's the fucking sword?’”

  "You really are a barbarian." The sword waited for another moment and when Bardulf said nothing it continued. "You owe me an apology. You need to tell me you're sorry for gagging me."

  "Or?"

  "I won’t tell you where the blue sword is," said the sword with an air of smugness.

  “Huh. Okay, how about this: tell me where the blue sword is or I’ll find some egrets who need a new toilet. Remind me why have I bothered to keep you around, anyway if you can only harm the red dragon.”

  “You kept me around because Mort the Wizard told you that you needed me and the blue sword to slay the Sorcerer.”

  Bardulf considered this for a moment. The world was a big place and he couldn’t be certain the sword was in Blue Castle. It could take a long time to find it if Aargh didn’t tell him where it was. Queen Prunella might rescue herself if he took too long and then he’d lose the reward.

  "Very well," said Bardulf. "I apologize. I should have never gagged you. I should've listened to you."

  "I accept your apology. Never let it be said that I hold a grudge.”

  The barbarian waited for a moment before speaking. "Well?"

  "Well, what? You apologized and I said I wouldn’t hold a grudge. What else is there?”

  "Where is the blue sword?" His words came from between gritted teeth. "That's why I apologize to you. So you would tell me where the goddamn blue sword is."

  "I already told you, but you were busy gagging me, so you didn't hear."

  “Okay,” said Bardulf. "Now would you, please pretty please, with sugar on top, tell me where I can find the blue sword."

  "That wasn't so hard, was it?" The sword waited while Bardulf said nothing. "It's in the Red Dragon."

  Dragon Feet

  Duke Farley was in a fury over the delays, Natalie noted. First, it was a matter of making sure they had enough supplies. Along with that, several of the newer soldiers couldn't find their gear. That caused a problem with the newly established supply and logistics section of the military, a system that seemed to cause as many problems as it solved.

  The system was established by a member of the nobility, Count Agan. He was known for inventing double entry bookkeeping, carbon paper, and something called Will Travel Files, or according the troops, WTF.

  Soldiers spent hours looking for someone who could help them requisition lost tents and blankets. There were huge piles of the things, but no one could access them unless they had the right paperwork. The paperwork could only be obtained from Count Agan himself, but he wasn’t available.

  Duke Farley was furious when heard this and ordered materials to be given out to whoever needed them. When the clerks asked what they were supposed to do about the paperwork, the duke told them. The princess didn’t think it was anatomically possible for them to follow the duke’s instructions about the paperwork. The men changed their minds about the forms and did as instructed.

  When the troops started getting supplies, the Count appeared by what seemed to be magic and whined at the duke for making a mockery of his system. The duke ignored him.

  Natalie was too busy trying to track down the ballista to be further involved with the discussion. The weapon was supposed to be in the armory, but it wasn’t. It seemed to be hidden under another mound of paperwork. Probably more of the Count Agan’s work, she thought.

  “It says here, Ma’am, that the blastica is right here in the armory,” said the armorer, gesturing to an empty corner. “But it isn’t. This is why it’s important to have accurate paperwork.”

  “The BALLISTA,” Natalie replied. “Is an important piece of equipment! It takes two horses to move it. You can’t just lose something like that! It’s HUGE!”

  “Hang on,” he said to the princess as he held up his index finger and turned to address a soldier who just came in carrying a clipboard. “Gary, what happened to the blastica?”

  The man with the clipboard stopped and gave him a blank look.

  “The what?”

  “Blastica. The big arrow thing?”

  The man blinked at him and shrugged.

  “BALLISTA!” yelled Natalie. “It’s a great, giant crossbow!”

  “Oh, the bearlifter, Your Ma’am-ship,” the man smiled. “Last I saw it, Lady Carden had borrowed it to make a giant man for the parade. It looked great, but the shoulders were a bit broad.”

  The man went back to what he was doing.

  “Stop!”

  He turned back to face the princess.

  “I want you and the armorer to find the ballista and get it back here. Be sure it works before we go off to the Castle Farley. And do it before sunset.”

  “But,” began the armorer as he gestured to paperwork with his handful of paperwork. “I’ve got all this—”

  “Don’t,” she said interrupting. “Just go do what I say. I�
��ll stay here and hand out weapons.”

  “Count Agan will have a fit over that, your Princessness,” said the soldier with the clipboard.

  “Let him,” she said.

  “You’d better take my clipboard then, ma’am,” he said handing it to her. “I don’t want none of this coming out of my salary.”

  “Go.”

  The armorer and the other soldier bowed and left. During the time they were gone, Natalie did her best to use the paperwork when she handed out One (1) Sword, Short and One (1) Bow, Long to a new soldier who lost them both when he went to the privy. He seemed relieved that he only had to deal with the heir to the throne and not an armorer with a clipboard.

  The two men returned with the ballista. The armorer jumped down and waved a piece of paper at the Princess.

  “I found it, Ma’am!”

  “I can see that.”

  “No, the important bit,” he said showing her the paperwork. “When she requisitioned it, she called it Engine, Siege, Thingie. We don’t have that in the inventory, so she had to keep it. If she’d checked it out a ‘Crossbow, Giant’ everything would have been fine, but you know how it is with civilians.”

  Princess Natalie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reopened them.

  “Just be sure the thing works and get it to the Duke,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “You have exactly between now and right now to get it accomplished. We leave at dawn.”

  The next evening as the company made camp, Natalie and her uncle made plans for the next phase of the operation: reconning Castle Farley and assembling the army.

  “I can do the recon, Uncle,” said Natalie as they looked at a map.

  “I understand,” he replied, looking up from the map. “It’s just that your father would furious if something happened to you.”

  “Nothing is going to happen,” she replied, returning his gaze. “I’m a good hunter and I’m good at not being seen. I can handle the Western approach.”

  “And Gunter will take the East. Yes, I suppose if you’re going to be running everything someday, you’ll need bonafides with the soldiers. Having a fine strategic mind is one thing, but they’ll only take you seriously if— never mind. They’ll have to take you seriously when you’re their queen.”