Alfred 2: And The Underworld (Alfred the Boy King)

by Ron Smorynski

  Before any of the soldiers could recover from the massive shock to their systems, before even the dust and smoke could clear from the air and from their terrified faces, dark looming shadows of ogres appeared towering above their fallen battered bodies.

  The gruff soldier lay in feeble disarray at the obliterated gate. He felt as if he was in a nightmare and not fully aware as an ogre lifted him up. The ogre held him like a child, though not so caring. He tossed him to the hobgoblins, who hurriedly chained him and the others in a line. They placed manacles on each of their hands, fetters on their feet and collars on their necks. All were chained together, huddling – not like proud soldiers ready for a fight, but like beaten souls doomed for slavery.

  The ogres walked into the rubble-strewn courtyard of the Keep, plucking and picking up fallen cooks and cleaners. The routine of bombing then taking shivering shocked humans was apparent. The ogres picked up trophies and then tossed them to hobgoblins, who immediately chained them up. Verboden and Abedeyan were amongst them and barely discernible. It may have been the dust and smoke caked on their sweat, tears and blood, or the immutable fact that slavery dehumanizes all to chattel.

  As the dust and smoke settled, it was plain to see the shivering rows of slaves standing in the apocalyptic castle that was once the living grounds of Grotham Keep. Ogres walked about looking at the ruined settlement, pulling apart wooden sheds and structures. What barrels were left, they cracked open to sniff and drink from. The hobgoblins stood in groups, waiting for the ogres to call them for whatever purpose. Several looked into the Great Hall and then motioned for the hobgoblins to go first. Soon enough, they brought out Gorham and Dunther. They cared not that they were wounded and grimacing in pain. They too were tossed amidst the slaves and chained.

  Then through the gate came the largest ogre of all. He was a foot taller than the rest and as much wider. All made way for the Chieftain. He towered over the slaves and glanced at them with disdain, disgust and discontent.

  His voice was deep and guttural. “Dizz izz itt? Why'R dere NUTT mohr?”

  The ogres and hobgoblins dared not look directly at him. The ogres scratched their thick jowls and ran stubby fingers along gigantic blades. The hobgoblins stood as far back in their huddled groups, tending to the slaves with vile contempt.

  “Whe'R thuh rest? WHoo iz in charge'ere?!” The Chieftain looked across the captured humans. No one answered as the behemoth ogre stomped back and forth. He stopped in front of the measly boy, Cory, and raised his giant spiky warhammer. “I zed, whoo iz in charge'ere?”

  Dunther raised a manacled hand, quivering in his dust ridden tattered armour. “I am in charge. I am Lord Dunther.”

  “Slave Dunder! Bring'm'ere!” the Chieftain huffed as he slammed his warhammer inches from the boy in chains. Cory cried out in utter fear. A hobgoblin rushed up and slapped him. No one could help. They all closed their eyes in shame. Cory stopped crying and shivered from fear and pain.

  Hobgoblins hurriedly removed Dunther from the line and brought him up to the Chieftain. They quivered as they got closer. Dunther merely sighed and grimaced in pain.

  “Slave Dunder?! WH'ere R duh rest?” the Chieftain growled, guttural sounds echoing from his vast gullet.

  Dunther looked at the ground, noticing the ogre’s thick black toenails poking out from thick leather boots. Many iron studs stuck out from the boots and straps. He followed up the thick squat legs to the mix of bear and beast battle skirt the ogre wore. Chains and hooks hung from his thick war belt that barely kept in a massive belly. The ogres’ huge bellies were more like masses of muscle than fat. All their limbs were thickset and muscular, having a rotund yet powerful look. His skin was grey with some flesh tones, pocked with scars and strange vine and thorn-like tattoos.

  When Dunther finally met the eyes of the ogre war Chieftain, the ogre had lost patience and pushed Dunther down. It was a soft push for the ogre but a violent neck wrenching push that caused Dunther to gasp in pain and then turn to cough harshly while trying to breathe. The others, covered in dust and blood, began to cry.

  A slave wagon entered the ruined gates. It was filled with Khanifians, the dark-skinned people from a far away land. They too were slaves and had manacles, fetters and collars. They also had a new slave with them, Nubio. Dunther spotted him, and their eyes met. Nubio had been badly beaten. Dunther now saw that the Magistrate must have given Nubio over to the ogres as punishment. He cursed under his breath. “The Magistrate!” So the Magistrate most certainly knew the ogres and was now an official enemy of King Alfred's court – if there was any court left, that is. And Dunther, lying there in total pain and misery, wondered, “Where is Alfred?”

  He scanned all the quivering, crying, dust ridden and bleeding people. None was Alfred. He saw Cory, Verboden, Abedeyan, Gorham, the soldiers who tried to kill him, and the cooks and cleaners, but no Alfred.

  As the wagon stopped, a lead hobgoblin, of sorts, jumped off and opened a cage, letting out the Khanifians. They slowly piled out and sped up as the hobgoblin whipped them. “Get out! Get yee out, dogs! To the pots and pans!”

  Another wagon entered, which was obviously the kitchen wagon. There was no telling what sort of meats and food were cooked. It all looked gray and rotten. Dunther would not dare guess the origins of the meaty parts that the slaves were forced to prepare. They went about making a fire, setting up pots and pans and a searing pit. They knew their jobs and did them, sped up by the crack of hobgoblin whips.

  Dunther suddenly felt as if he was floating in the air with a choking pain. The Chieftain had picked him up by the neck with a mighty ogre grip and was raising him up to the ogre’s face, “I zed, wh'ere R duh rest?”

  Dunther could barely breathe. The crushing of bone was about to occur.

  “Please stop!” Abedeyan yelled from a line. “Please... I'll tell you. Please stop!”

  “If yee tellz the WAHR CHEEF! I giv'em a CHANZ!” the Chieftain growled.

  “The mines! They're at the mines!” sobbed Abedeyan.

  Gorham and the others gasped in utter surrender. None had the courage or strength to respond, one way or other. They had never felt their lives and souls so drained, captured and imprisoned. It was so quick and devastating, erasing all memory of hope and happiness.

  Book Two

  Chapter Thirty-Four: A Mouse

  Alfred was crawling through rubble, trying to get into Tirnalth's tower. He was covered in dust. When he opened the door, he gasped, as the entire inside was blown out. A huge gaping hole in the wall opened to the slopes of the northern fields. There was no desk or chair, nor books or lamp. It was all gone. He had no way of seeing or sensing Tirnalth. It was as if the wizard had been blown away.

  “Tirnalth?!” Alfred called, not too loudly but loud enough. He looked up where the bookshelves used to line the upper walls. They had fallen. Shelves and books lay obliterated across the debris.

  “Tirnalth?! Where are you?” Alfred crawled desperately through the rubble and rock, under beams and boards. He cried and grabbed piles of rocks with quivering fists.

  Outside the gaping hole, a hobgoblin on hyena raced along the perimeter. It was scouting to see if anyone had fled the castle. The hobgoblin saw Alfred through the hole and turned toward him. It's hyena barked out a loud aggressive alarm. Each harrowing bark jolted Alfred as the hyena raced to the ruined tower and thrust its bestial head in. It snapped its huge teeth at the boy.

  The hobgoblin leapt off his hyena and scrambled onto the rubble. He lifted his club to hit Alfred and was stunned by the boy's sudden counter-jab with spear and shield. The hobgoblin dropped. The hyena stuck its head in further and chomped violently at Alfred. Its jaws clenched Alfred's spear and shield, shattering the spear. Wood splintered in its gums, causing it to whelp and leap back. Several more hobgoblins raced up on their hyenas and leapt into the ruined tower. They found their dead comrade and a shattered spear and shield, but no one to capture. They hurriedly scrambled amongst the rubble and saw n
obody!

  The War Chieftain tossed Dunther back at the slaves. He landed on several, and all gave a cry of pain. Abedeyan covered his face with his manacled hands. Gorham tried to approach Dunther to help, but a hobgoblin yanked him back in the line. A hobgoblin leaped on Dunther and quickly locked him back into the line of chains.

  The barks of the hyenas at the rear of the Keep attracted the ogres. Several immediately lumbered over there. They bashed open the Keep and kicked aside the small tables and benches. A hobgoblin barked from the back wall. The ogres used hammers to burst through the wall and floors in the rear. Stone and beams came tumbling down. The ogres ignored them as they tore open the rear structure of the Keep. This exposed the many tunnels that led below.

  “GOHB'lihns!” an ogre yelled. A flurry of goblins came rushing in, leaping and bounding over the debris and thrown tables. The ogres pointed down the tunnels, and the goblins raced in.

  There were quite a few tunnels. At first, the goblins went in only a little way and then came out and shrugged. The ogres did not like that, and one was immediately crushed under a rather large blunt mace. As if that wasn't enough, the ogres roared with anger, shaking the Great Hall, causing dust trails to drop once again. The goblins jolted and returned to the tunnels. They hurried along, scampering as hunched over critters. They lit the small torches they carried. Many split off into different tunnels and looked about, pointing small illuminating flames.

  Goblins can see in the dark better then they can in the light. But they are not very smart and like to copy their masters. Being forced to serve ogres, who like flames and fires, the goblins went down the tunnels using torches.

  One spotted a small brown mouse and ignored it as it hurried along. Then it licked its lips and returned to chase the mouse. It hunched down further to reach the mouse as it scampered and scurried along the tunnel floor. Its big goblin eyes widened as it tried to grab at the frantic mouse.

  Another goblin crossed its path. The two hit heads at an intersection. “Shhhtupid bloke, whach where yee goin!!!”

  “I be getting me sumthing!” the first said, rubbing its head.

  “Whaht?”

  “Uh, nuddin!” The first spotted the little brown mouse scampering away down the tunnel.

  The second glanced, saw it and licked its black dirty teeth with its black spotted tongue. “Oh oh, whut du we hav'ere?” He jumped up and chased after it.

  The first goblin jumped up and chased after the second. “Hey, ey, thatz minez, I say!”

  “Nut if I getz it in mi chopz furhst!”

  The two goblins chased after the mouse, waving their flames to and fro. The mouse hid behind a rock in a small hole as the two passed by, thinking they were hot on its trail.

  “Wher'd it goz?!” one goblin could be heard saying further down the tunnel.

  Alfred sighed – or rather, as a mouse, he squeaked a sigh of relief. He felt he was in the clear, hidden in a small hole. Then he felt the familiar tingling, and suddenly he surged. He knew he had to get out of that hole if he wanted to live. Growing to full form under the couch was one painful experience. Expanding to Alfred in that hole was probably beyond “a painful experience”.

  As he scampered out, he suddenly grew to his right proportions. His goblin armour and weapon reformed from the fur. He pulled out his goblin blade and hurried along toward the searching goblins. He had to follow the light. As a mouse, he could somewhat see and sense in the dark, but not as Alfred.

  He saw them moving their torches about on the ground. He hesitated as he remembered he had lost his spear and shield to the hyena's ferocious bite. His goblin blade was somewhat small but should still be effective if needed.

  Alfred followed the goblins to a wider opening in the tunnels. In the dark, he could hear the quiet trickle of an underground river just to his right. He knew he was back at the ratkin passage that led to the mines. However, before him were the two goblins sniffing about along the river's edge. He appeared in their light, and they waved him over.

  “Ey yu, seen any miceys'ere?” one asked, not directly looking at him.

  “If yee dooz, itz minez, all minez!” the other added.

  Alfred hunched over in an odd gait to approach them. He even tried some goblin talk. “I wanz'em!”

  The other two waved him off. “No wayz, me finz, me swallowz!”

  “I bitez and bitez, krunch'n very lil micey bonz!” the other said, looking at Alfred. He looked down to search amongst the rocks. Then he sensed something odd. He looked back at Alfred and gave a holler.

  Alfred struck the first with his blade, killing him quickly. The other reached for his goblin axe as Alfred kicked him off the edge and into the river. It wasn't a big splash until the goblin tried to swim. It thrashed about in its goblin armour. Goblins are not educated in weight to water ratios, especially wearing armour. It sunk to its death.

  Alfred picked up the fallen torch. He lifted up the light to see more goblins appear from the tunnels. They posed with spears and shields. Alfred didn't have a chance. He dropped the torch and quickly picked up a shield and sword from the fallen goblin.

  As they advanced, several immediately dropped. In his flurry to fight, he didn’t notice it. He concentrated on what he had to do. He wasn't really afraid even though death was all around him. His battles with the ratkins and small goblins had given him experience to let the fear pass. Alfred saw the goblins, not as nightmarish creatures that would have previously caused him to freeze in terror, but rather as stupid creatures with no will or goodness in them. He knew they must be confronted, fearful or not. He had trained countless hours with the knights and the boys, knowing full well they would be fighting goblins again.

  When he trained, he repeated spear-and-shield and sword-and-shield moves such that they were now muscle memory for him. Practicing hour after hour, his brain would remember and convert them to instant actions. He could choose to be driven by fear and become paralyzed, or shut out all thought and let his brain actualize moves embedded in his psyche.

  He turned toward them. He deflected the swing of one and twirled his blade to slice its arm. He instinctively blocked the second with his shield and leapt away to avoid the swing of the third. His shield bashed the second to stun it, then swung back and twirled about to slice the third. The third stumbled back from the blow that glanced off its armour. By the time it recovered, Alfred had already dispensed with the first two.

  The final goblin growled and lifted its blade to strike just as an arrow came in sideways and ended him. Alfred now noticed several goblins further back with arrows in them. He looked to the source of the arrows beyond the waters.

  “It's me, Alfred!” Loranna called.

  “Loranna? Where are you? I can't see you!” Alfred called back.

  “Precisely Alfred!” Loranna called back from the dark. A small splash echoed, and a dark shape zipped through the water to emerge by Alfred. Loranna stepped out, wet as a fish. She smiled forlornly and hugged him. “I ran down here, Alfred. I ran away. I couldn't save anyone. I'm so sorry.”

  “It's okay, Loranna! It's alright. We all fled!”

  “I could have helped Dunther and Gorham. I saw them...” It was obvious that not all drippings from her face were water.

  “Shhh... Loranna, we can still help them,” said Alfred, looking at her with purpose. She met his eyes and nodded, trying to hold in her emotions. He rubbed her arms for encouragement. “I know this is hard, but I am not giving up. I'm not going to allow my fear or pain or sorrow to take over. I'm going to focus, like this!” Alfred bent down a little and took an odd position with his right hand quivering mid-air palm down, his left hand stretched out, the fingers dancing furiously.

  “Whah, what's that?”

  “This is my mouse and keyboard! I know how to kick some you know what this way!”Alfred mimed playing on his computer.

  “Know what?” Loranna blinked unsure, water still dripping from her quivering shrunken body. Her elven cloak dried quickly and f
luttered lightly behind her.

  Alfred stood up straight and proud now. “They are slave raiders. They are here to capture us, not kill us. Some may have died. I do not know who. I can't think about it right now. What I do know is that those ogres wanted as many alive as possible. That is our hope. And you and I are still here!”

  “I fled in the tunnels. I didn't have a torch! I could not see in the dark.”

  “Oh yeah, that won't get you far at all!” Alfred tried to smile. Both looked at each other with the knowing experience of pain and suffering, smiling as best they could to encourage each other.

  “I hid here in the dark. When I saw their light, the goblins, I swam across and waited. Then you came.”

  “To save the day...” Alfred tried a haughty macho look.

  Loranna gently punched him. “I ran, Alfred. I ran so scared and left all of them behind.” She turned to pick out her arrows and grab up torches and a goblin shield.

  “I ran too, Loranna,” said Alfred. “It's okay. None of us could have been ready for that, for those giant ogres.”

  “The whole world is a giant dangerous place. Sometimes it seems so senseless for us to even try.”

  “What do you mean?” Alfred gathered up other small goblin torches for the journey and tested the weapons to see which was the best.

  “It seems senseless for us to try to build a kingdom made up of fair people that help each other and go against the evil powers of the world.” Loranna carried arrows, shield and a blade like a warrior, but her sunken shoulders revealed a darkness coming over her. “Where is hope?”

  “Ah, phewy Loranna. I ain't giving up! Even if I die. I am not giving up on this land... on the Northern Kingdom, on the Westfold, even against the reach of Gorbogal or the greedy Telehistine Merchant Lords. No way!”

  Loranna couldn't help but let a smile sneak out.

  Alfred smirked and pouted with a falsely glum look. “I always play my best! To the end! Even if I die!”