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

by Richard Hedley

  “You shall pay for your sacrilege. I shall have your soul,” he said as guards advanced to shackle Bardulf and Prunella. “Both of you! Move!”

  Evil Times

  If he was effected by the death of his creature and the Ramekin’s triumph, he did not show it. He lounged on a couch, a beautiful maiden in a metal bikini feeding him grapes and sweet meats. He had a wine goblet in his left hand and small, red wine stain on his robes.

  “Barbarian, what brings you here to rescue this gutter queen?”

  Bardulf answered with silence as his eyes scanned the room, looking for the purple sword.

  “You will give me what I want, barbarian,” the Sorcerer continued. “You do not know what it is yet, but you will give it to me.”

  “What do you want?” Bardulf asked.

  “The Vial of Knowledge, of course. With it I can-”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “You can try to take it if you wish, but it will end poorly for you.”

  “I will give you Queen Prunella and gold,” he said. “Take them and leave here.”

  “What if I refuse?”

  “You will die, as will the queen. What you cannot account for is how well armed my guards are. I have armed them with magic repeating crossbows called Akats. You cannot stand before them. You might kill one or two of my men, but you will wind up looking like a bloated pin cushion.”

  As the sorcerer spoke, Bardulf looked around the room. He saw Fred in a pile behind the Sorcerer. His pommel was covered with leather, like a hood on a falcon. There was a man picking items out of the pile and putting them into a forge. Fred was next to be melted down.

  “Fool of a wizard! You dare not threaten the Ramekin! Consider yourself SERVED!” Bardulf bellowed. He remembered Princess Natalie’s words, telling him that Fred could fly and yelled, “Sword! Fly to ME!”

  The sword didn’t move. Confused guards looked at one another, tittering with uncertainty and small laughs. Bardulf took advantage of the distraction and hurled himself toward them, leading with his manacled arms and bowling down the unwary men.

  Queen Prunella dropped to the ground and rolled in the opposite direction.

  He reached out with his powerful hands and yanked a crossbow from the hands of a startled guardsman. Grasping the weapon just under the bow, he smashed the guardsman’s head, felling him with a powerful blow. He wheeled to his left, kicked another guard in the stomach and smashed the butt of the crossbow into his chin.

  He dropped to the ground as several of the guardsmen shot in his direction, bolts flying over him and into their fellows. Bardulf took a huge step out of the crowd, toward the forge. He turned and threw the crossbow into the guards, causing several armed men to duck.

  Whirling again, he grabbed the purple sword. The weapon’s handle grew warm at his touch, as if Fred were acknowledging he was again in the hands of the barbarian.

  The Sorcerer and some guards beat a retreat out the door opposite Bardulf. Queen Prunella writhed and rolled on the ground, trying to evade three guards’ greedy hands, giving Bardulf extra time.

  Five of the retinue remained in the room.

  The barbarian took a step toward the nearest man, knocked his weapon away and made a two-handed stab through the guard’s chest. Four guards left.

  Bardulf felt a sting in his right butt cheek, pivoted toward the source and lowered into a crouch.

  “Meet my Akat, foul barbarian,” the archer cried. “You cannot stand against its power!”

  The guard shot a volley of arrows at the barbarian, determined to end him. At the last second, the purple sword jerked to life, smashing the arrows down with a speed no man could match.

  Bardulf leapt toward the archer and sliced down with the sword, cleaving the overconfident guard’s skull in two. Blood splashed across the barbarian’s chest.

  The barbarian turned to see Prunella being held by two guardsmen and a third on the floor with a crossbow quarrel through his gorget, blood pooling on the floor.

  With unerring instinct, Bardulf drew his knife and threw it in a quick, smooth motion at the left most guard as he pounced toward the man on his right. The blade pierced the man’s eye and he fell dead, releasing the queen.

  The other man abandoned his crossbow and drew his cutlass. He stabbed toward Bardulf, catching the barbarian’s leg, causing him to falter. The guardsman’s face tightened in hope and determination, but that expression quickly turned sour when Bardulf guided the purple sword in an arch, slicing the guard’s armor and enviscerating him.

  The Ramekin turned to kill the final guard, only to find he was too late. Queen Prunella stood over the man’s lifeless body, holding the deadman’s weapon. She gave Bardulf’s wound a worried look, ripped off her sleeve and quickly bandaged the barbarian’s leg.

  “Your leg will be fine, but you’ve got an arrow sticking out of your ass, Bardulf,” she said. “As rescues go, I’d give this a solid six out of ten. You’re off to a good start.”

  “Nice,” Bardulf said as he pulled the hood off Fred’s pommel.

  “All of that slaughter and I’m gagged. I couldn’t even use my best lines,” said Fred. “Damn, dude. You’ve got an arrow sticking out of your ass and the Sorcerer is long gone. Look, I have got to kill the shit out of that slimy motherfucker.”

  “You’ll get your chance,” Bardulf replied.

  The queen was inspecting the guardsmen’s bodies, going from one to another, examining the contents of their pockets and pouches until she found a vial of white goo.

  “Healing salve,” she declared. “It will heal your wound and invigorate you, barbarian. Now, let’s get that arrow out of your ass and kill the Sorcerer.”

  “Right,” said Fred.

  Dragonmen

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Bardulf. I need to put my hands on your ass and pull this thing out,” said the Queen. “Lie face down and relax.”

  With great care and skill, she pulled out the arrow. Then she moved his clothing aside and sealed his wound with a white healing goo. The Ramekin put his pants back into place and stood. The salve worked quickly. He could feel it going working on his other injuries.

  Without a word, he walked through the door the Sorcerer had gone through earlier. The Queen picked up a sword and followed him.

  Passing though the door, he felt a sense of unease as the world swirled before his eyes. As the scene before him coalesced, Bardulf saw he was once again at the bottom of the same staircase he encountered when he left Fosdick Castle’s cellar/dungeon.

  “This looks familiar,” Bardulf said.

  “Did she poison you or some shit? Where are we?” asked Fred. “No, wait. Here’s Astra, queen of the barmaids. Man, you sure have a strange love life, B. First, I meet a dryad who’s nuttier than a sack full of acorns and now your barmaid turns out to be the Queen of Fosdick. Good thing you didn’t bang Princess Natalie.”

  “What!?”

  “Ignore him, Queen Prunella.”

  “What do you mean, ignore me? Look, the woman has a right to know you might be her son-in-law when we get back to Kingdom Fosdick. There you were in your posing pouch and here comes Princess Not-that-damn-innocent sniffing around your ass and helping you get changed into your leather barbarian skirt.”

  The queen crossed her arms and stared at the barbarian before her.

  “This is serious, Bardulf,” she said. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “She helped me escape so I could rescue you. I had to change my clothes in front of her. None of that would have been necessary if King Fosdick hadn’t thrown me in the dungeon with some crazy fat guy.”

  “We’ll discuss this later,” the queen said. “Let’s focus on the matter at hand: finding and killing the Sorcerer.”

  “That sounds good,” said Fred. “I can’t wait to kill that son of a bitch.”

  Bardulf grunted his approval and started up the massive staircase, Prunella just one step behind.

  As the
y ascended the stairs, the temperature dropped. It was gradual at first, then quicker with each step. By the time they reached the top, they had to be careful not to slip on the ice and plummet down the stairs or off the side, where only open air awaited.

  “I don’t recall it being cold and icy up here,” said Fred.

  “It wasn’t,” replied the Ramekin. “It was normal. We walked for a half a turn around the hub. We’ve been around it a few times now.”

  “Four and a half,” said the Queen, taking a careful step up behind Bardulf. “I’ve been counting the steps. We’re probably close now.”

  Just as she predicted, they turned a corner and staircase ended. They stood for a moment, looking into a strange room. It had mirrored walls and some stands in the center. Bardulf took a step toward the door and Queen Prunella made to follow, but he motioned for her to stay behind.

  As he stepped through the door, it closed behind him with a whisper. A dozen short pillars holding sculptures of identical monsters in various menacing poses stood around the room. Bardulf bent to examine them. They were creatures of legend, dragonmen. Baels was a simple human shaped dragon, but dragonmen were something else; a dragon-bred man created to fight and kill humans. In lands where dragons ruled humans, they were the ruthless interface between people and dragons.

  “Motherfucker!” cried Fred. “Look behind you! The motherfucking door closed and now there’s no way to get out of here. How the fuck am I going to kill the Sorcerer if we’re stuck in this room with a bunch of dolls?”

  The Ramekin turned and grunted. A noise behind him got his attention and he whirled back to face the statues. In the middle of the semi-circle was a mist taking the form of a large man. In seconds, it resolved into a giant of a dragonman, the same one depicted by the statuettes.

  Attacking in a flash, the barbarian’s purple sword sliced through the mist of the yet unformed beast. As if Bardulf’s sword were a cue, it became solid and the Ramekin beheld a creature with golden skin, mottled with yellow. It opened its gapping maw and revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth as it let out a blood freezing howl. Before he could raise his sword to defend himself, a massive taloned claw sent him flying one way while his sword flew the other.

  The impact would have knocked him out, but for the power of the healing salve coursing through his veins. He leapt to his feet and approached the monster in a brawling stance.

  The opponents circled, the monster always staying between the barbarian and his sword. It lashed out and Bardulf deflected the blow with his right arm, following with a kick to the monster’s left knee, only to find his leg spinning through empty air.

  With the barbarian off balance and facing the other direction, the beast took full advantage and grabbed Bardulf’s arms from behind, pulling them back to dislocate his arms at the shoulder. The barbarian’s muscles bulged as he struggled to stop the beast from ripping his shoulders apart. The dragonman howled and pulled harder, but the Ramekin was stronger.

  When the beast’s grip weakened, the barbarian pivoted and threw the beast over his shoulder. Bardulf cast about for his sword, only to see it was too far to reach before the monster would be on him. The only weapon he could reach was a statuette. He grabbed a heavy figurine and felt it was sturdy enough for slaying.

  The monster rose to its feet and charged the barbarian. Bardulf avoided it and brought the heavy figure down on beast’s shoulder. To his surprise, the statuette turned to mist and disappeared when it should have impacted the monster. Dumbfounded and cursing magic, the barbarian regarded his empty hand for a split second. The dragonman turned back toward Bardulf, grabbed his arm and threw him across the room over the small versions of itself.

  Bardulf’s back smashed against the wall and he slid down, landing on his side. He got up and saw the goliath’s arm was dangling as if it had been clubbed and broken. It stepped over a strangely quiet Fred and headed toward the barbarian. He grabbed another statuette and threw it at the monster. It turned to mist as it hit the creature’s chest, causing the beast to open its gigantic mouth and roar in pain as blood dripped from a gaping wound.

  A grim smile crept across the barbarian’s face as he grabbed another statuette and flung it at the hideous beast and he got the same result. Bardulf looked down and noticed one of the statues had wounds just like the dragonman's. He grabbed the one beside it and hurled it at the creature's head with deadly accuracy. The creature writhed in the agony of the blow and crumpled to the ground, blood flowing freely.

  The barbarian grabbed the last figure and closed on the dragonman. He brought the statue down on the thing’s head, smashing the statuette and making a satisfying crunch of bone and a spray of blood. The gold and yellow nightmare fell lifeless to the ground and turned mist as Bardulf moved to retrieve Fred.

  “That was some SHIT, B!” yelled the sword. “I knew you were a killer, but that was a straight-up brawl! I did NOT know you had it in you.”

  Several passageways opened around the room. Queen Prunella was behind one and she took a step into the room. Her mouth open wide as if she to speak and pointed behind Bardulf. The Ramekin turned to see the monster rising to its feet and morphing into a bloodied man-shaped thing, but one thing was clear— the Sorcerer was not a person. He was a dragonmane, the legendary creatures created by dragons to enforce their will on the human population.

  Bardulf stalked toward the mage in a fury. He raised Fred above his head and brought the sword down in a violent diagonal stroke. The blade cut through the Sorcerer’s neck halfway down to his spine. The barbarian kicked the body away in anger and disgust. It hit the floor with a splash.

  “OH, HO! That felt G-O-O-D GOOD!” cried Fred. “When you absolutely have to kill every nasty motherfucker out there, there ain’t nothin’ like the real thing: ME.”

  “You?” asked the Queen and the barbarian at the same time.

  “Are you jealous? Look, I killed the hell out of that son of a bitch and now I’m ready to party!”

  Prunella and Bardulf exchanged glances. Bardulf shrugged and smiled.

  “He can have all the credit he wants if he shuts up,” said Bardulf.

  Returning the Queen

  “Do either of you heroes have any idea how to get back to Castle Fosdick from here?” the queen asked.

  “The way we came? You know just go backwards?” Fred responded while Bardulf examined the bifurcated body of the Sorcerer. “He’s pretty dead, Big B. I don’t think you need to check his pulse.”

  “I’m looking to see if he has something useful for getting out of here. This castle and everything in it exists because of magic, so we’ll need some kind of magic to get out of here,” Bardulf said as finished looking at the body. “Unfortunately, he has nothing more magical than a couple of lint balls.”

  After searching the wizard’s body, he gathered some big pieces of the last figurine and put them in front of the four hallways that spoke out from the room where the battle had taken place.

  “This way, we can keep track of the doors we go through,” said

  “I would have never connected a barbarian with that kind of planning,” said Prunella.

  “No one ever said he was good at it,” replied Fred. “The planning part, not the barbarian part. He’s got that locked down, what with the random killing and all.”

  Bardulf grunted and walked out the door he marked with two shards. He reappeared through the door with four shards, watched Prunella follow him through the door with two shards and made a quick sidestep so she didn’t plow into his back and waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long. She came out, swiveled her head and turned to face Bardulf. The barbarian stood, looked down at the Sorcerer’s corpse, contemplated violating it because the sorcerer was, no doubt, guilty of inflicting this goddamn magic puzzle on him.

  “I guess we should try that one,” she said indicating the third door. This time she went first, Bardulf close behind. They reentered through the door with one broken statuette piece.

&n
bsp; “Magic is for fucktards,” grumbled the magic sword, lost in irony.

  “Yeah,” Bardulf looked around. "And we're trapped by it.”

  Prunella walked over to door four and came back in through door two. Her face was pale.

  “You must come see this,” she started back to door four.

  Bardulf stepped through behind Prunella and entered an octagonal room. He stood for a moment as he took in the scenes depicted on the wall before gesturing for her to leave ahead of him.

  “We can speak of this later. We must get back to Kingdom Fosdick,” he said.

  “Speak of it later?” asked Fred. “What the holy fuck are you talking about? Did you not see what was on walls?”

  “Yes. That is why we must leave now.”

  “Okay. There’s only one choice left,” she said. “We go back through the door we came in.” The Queen strode past Bardulf and his sword through the door. When she failed to reappear, he listened for screams, heard none, and followed.

  They stood at the top of the large, icy staircase, but one thing was different. There was a smaller staircase going behind the rock wall off to their right. Bardulf and Prunella exchanged glances and started up the stairs.

  “This place is freakier than the inside of a dragon,” said Fred.

  “I’ve seen the inside of a dragon, sword. It isn’t that interesting,” the barbarian replied

  “You’ve never seen it the way I’ve seen it. Look, dragons are fucking sneaky even when they’re dead. See, when they’re alive and you’re living on the inside of one like I was, you’re in like a strange cave.”

  Bardulf and the queen stopped. She spoke first.

  “You’re inferring that we could be in a dragon?”

  “No, I hadn’t thought about it. Yes, but I’m implying we could be in a dragon, now that you mention it,” Fred said. “Besides, the speaker implies, the listener infers.”

  “But our circumstance has caused you to infer or deduce that we could be in a dragon, that’s the critical point.”