The Horrid Tragedy of the Counts Berok: A Comedy Fantasy

by Galen Wolf

  The sun began to rise, slowly at first. It was like the edge of a golden coin. Like the orange, flaming body of a huge spider, it hauled itself above the desert's rim - devouring the darkness. Soon it would be unbearably hot and he would have to rest but as yet he could still run. As the light began to get stronger he saw lizards running on the sand. He wondered what they ate to stay alive in this arid, barren wilderness. He wondered what they tasted like. He desired one. And then like an animal without consciously thinking he aimed at it, correctly judging its position and speed he impaled it where it lay squirming and dying on the blade of his nose. He ate it greedily, its tail hung out of his mouth as it struggled to escape. Then it was swallowed.

  William did not like the taste and hoped he would not. be sick.

  But then he ran again. On and on he went until almost noon when he stopped and managed to drag himself away from the road as he did not want to be run over. Then he fell asleep in the hot sand.

  He was awakened some hours later by the sound of horsemen and their talk. He was surprised at first that they rode in the blazing sun. He felt his back sore and burnt even as he thought. Looking up from his position in the sand dunes he saw that they were soldiers - Pirakteshi Provincial Militia by the cut of their yellow jackets. It took him seconds to recognise Black Jack at their head - Sergeant Jack if he was to be given his full military title. They had not seemed to notice William - perhaps they had mistaken him for a shrub. William was close enough to hear their conversation as they passed by, their horses heads hung low in the heat. There were six of them. A fly landed on William's face and he stuffed it greedily into his mouth. It was better than the lizard.

  One of the troopers was speaking to Black Jack, "Well Jack," he began.

  Black Jack turned sharply on him. "It's Black Jack if you don't mind, Sonny."

  The young trooper cleared his throat and shifted uneasily on his horse, "Well, Black Jack. Are you sure these talkin' monkeys be Berok and 'is servant?"

  "Boy, if I says it be, then it be. A guard at Axtos Gate in the city remembers lettin' out two ugly monkeys just two days after Berok rescued 'is servant and disappeared. The feller what runs the Pilgrim Boat service remembers pickin' up two hideous monkeys an' a nun. You see boy - it all fits. Axtos'll make me a general if I gets Berok. An' I be sure as a nut that it be they."

  Then Black Jack and Sonny Boy were gone by and William heard no more of their talk. Soon the last of the string of riders had come opposite him. His jacket was open, he looked almost asleep with the heat. He was nodding and sweat dripped from his nose onto his horse's neck. This seemed to annoy the horse and it was trying to dislodge him from the saddle. William thought quickly. This could work to his advantage. He would follow the horse using all the stealth of a desert creature until the soldier fell off.

  Then William would steal his clothes and the horse as well.

  The soldiers and their Sergeant Jack were moving very slowly and by crawling on all fours in the desert sand, William managed to follow them for a few miles until the enraged horse finally ejected its rider. He fell with a soft plump into the sand without waking up at all. William was even more astonished when he managed to remove all the man's clothes and dress himself in them while he continued sleeping. William abhorred such laziness and spat at the naked, reclining soldier. A little later it struck him that perhaps the soldier had died of the fall.

  William soon managed to catch up with the horse and leapt on its back He spurred it with wildly with a loud 'yaroop' but still the beast would not move. This attracted the attention of the evil Sergeant Jack, or 'Black Jack' as he was known. Sergeant Jack recognised him instantly.

  "That be the ugly one!" he shouted pointing at him. William at first thought that black Jack had mistaken him for someone else but then realised that the troopers had drawn their cavalry sabres and were advancing towards him. William quickly tried another course of action, he leaned over his horse's head and promised it fresh hay if it would only give of its best. The horse responded immediately, glad of such a thoughtful master as this. It exploded into action and like a meteor it streaked past the other horses who no doubt found the heat too much for them and had not been promised hay. As they raced along the roadway the horse's hooves sent up spurts of dust. William was aware of how much he had missed the companionship of horses. He felt the reassuring weight of the sabre bouncing against his thigh as they sped along. He looked back - already the labouring horses of Black Jack's party were far behind. He saw Sergeant Jack shake his fist and he laughed. Then he remembered not to be too cocky as now the Militia had a firm sighting of one of Berok's men they would follow to the ends of the earth. Or at least to the next oasis. Ahead of him he saw the green, waving palms of Sauce Bottle Oasis. He laughed aloud. He would call his horse 'Simon' after his youngest son whom he had sold into slavery. He would call his sword 'Deathbringer' because he liked the name.

  In the meantime Zventibold's sleep had been interrupted by a violent fit of burping. He supposed it had been brought on by the mangoes, but he kept an open mind as he was not sure that he was not allergic to Jeremiah's spare clothes. It was early afternoon and it was very hot. The water of the oasis looked cool, blue and inviting. The palms shaded him and there were coconuts in their wide branches. How close this was to paradise to him! Paradise if it had not been for the slumbering Jeremiah Foolscap, meatdealer and amateur butcher. How easy it would be to escape and take one of the horses that stood close by grazing on the lush grass that grew here. Then Jeremiah was not such a bad chap. There he lay, smiling broadly in his sleep and scratching his rough uneven skin. His skin was most unusually thick seeming on his chest and almost black with dirt. He could not believe that Jeremiah would sell him to these barbarous monkey eating natives of Wamawama. Monkeys yes, but would they cook and eat a fully clothed human being? He reckoned he could afford to travel with him for a while yet. Suddenly and for no apparent reason his thoughts became red with hate. Hate for the foul Autocrat and his despicable son George. He laughed because he happened to know that George's second name was Mary - a girl's name. Something that George - that ever so macho heir to the Diamond Throne did his best to keep secret.

  He thought of how George had cruelly ravished Melissa, his promised bride - his - Zventibold's promised bride! He thought of how that foul beast Axtos had murdered his innocent, defenceless father Turvius Sullius. How the Autocrat had killed his humanitarian step-father Zamborg. When he thought this he felt incubus dark memories struggle for freedom in the depths of his mind - memories of that night, but he shivered and put them away.

  He moved over to Jeremiah and shook him awake, "Jeremiah, would you like some mangoes before we move on?"

  "Ar lad, that be very kind of 'ee. I be very partial to mangoes but they do repeat on one don't they? Anyway we might as well 'ave 'em raw, They be over there in that sack behind the wagon seat." He pointed to a huge sack three quarters full of mangoes. Zventibold walked over to them and picked a handful out.

  "These?" he queried.

  "Ar, that be 'em."

  Zventibold squeezed the fruity mangoes and walked back over to Jeremiah. They sat down and began to eat. It really was a pleasant day.

  "Tell me about thyself my lad. What brought you to be sitting naked and covered with monkey hair by the banks of the Unterlink river?"

  Zventibold had to admit it was a fair question.

  "Come on lad, tell me about it, you an' your wee servant, for that is as I suppose it."

  "It's a long story," said Zventibold.

  "I thought it would be," said Jeremiah.

  "It is," said Zventibold.

  "I thought it would be, but go on."

  Zventibold related his strange story and Jeremiah sat, open mouthed, until Zventibold paused for breath. Then he began again. "And so I must reach glittering Kharkesh so that I may grow mighty in wizardcraft and at last return to claim my rightful position."

  "An what be thy rightful position Zventibold Berok?"


  "My rightful position be God-Emperor of Piraktesh," said Zventibold, accidentally picking up a common accent.

  Jeremiah sat aghast.

  "And Jeremiah if you help me now I will give you a third of all my realms when I am victorious"

  "Well that's very kind of you an' I'll certainly consider your offer but you must understand my position. Meat dealin' is not a profitable business as such but it's very secure. As long as I can get enough to feed my 'orses an' my pet cat in Kriptash I'll be 'appy."

  "But," said Zventibold " I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams."

  "Ar an' I've 'ad some wild ones," said Jeremiah.

  "I know you've had a hard life Jeremiah. Your skin- so dark and wrinkled, it shows this."

  "What do you mean?" asked Jeremiah."

  "Your Skin. That black mess on your chest."

  "That be my waistcoat."

  "Oh, I'm sorry." said Zventibold, greatly embarrassed. "But nevertheless if you take me to Kharkesh, or at least through Wamawama..."

  Jeremiah interrupted him "alright I will," he said.

  It was at that moment as fate would have it that a large coconut struck Jeremiah squarely on the back of his head and rendered him unconscious. Zventibold looked up to the branches from whence it had come, There in the midst of a sea of leaves was William's bright face. "I've saved you mas'er," he shouted and leapt down from the tree, his yellow jacket gleaming like a banana.

  "What do you wish me to do with this dog of a meat trader mas'er?" he enquired.

  "William, though I'm glad to see you, and I appreciate your action Jeremiah here had just become our ally. From now on he will aid us. Bring him round now and apologise."

  William was crestfallen. "I'm sorry mas'er but I was only tryin' to 'elp. Still I'd think you'd be foolish to trust a meat dealer. They be unscrupulous men." Then he cheered up. He went to fetch his horse Simon. "Meet Simon mas'er. He's our friend."

  Zventibold had always been fond of horses. "Do you know William," he said " If I hadn't been a sorcerer I think I would have liked to be a farrier." He stroked the horse's nose, "I'm touched you named him after my grandfather."

  "Ar, I do recall the old Count with some fondness. I would have named him Zamborg but the other horses would have laughed at him."

  Zventibold was thoughtful. "You must tell me all about your adventures."

  Just then Jeremiah groaned and stirred. "Go and wake him William while I go and yoke up the horses."

  William walked over to wake up Jeremiah. He kicked him severely in the head. "Wake up now ally, we're off."

  "William!" snapped Zventibold. "Could we have a little more courtesy please?"

  Who be 'im?" asked Jeremiah groggily. "Where be I ? " he asked again. "What be this?"

  It was then that the militia under Black Jack arrived at Sauce Bottle Oasis. They were sweaty and tired but they were still spoiling for a fight. They had ringed the Oasis and were advancing with sabres drawn and blood curdling yells.

  They heard Black Jack clearly above the tumult. "That be Berok and 'is filthy servants. At 'em lads!"

  William scratched his head and looked embarrassed. "I knowed there was somethin' I forgot to tell you mas'er."Nevertheless, he mounted Simon and, turning him, drew 'Deathbringer' and swung to the attack. Deathbringer's curved blade gleamed in the sunlight as Simon moved into a trot.

  Jeremiah and Zventibold ran for the wagon. Luckily Zventibold had hitched up the horses. He jumped up on the driver's seat. Jeremiah pulled out his butcher's kit and rummaged through it. He selected a cleaver and a long knife. Zventibold snatched two mangoes to give him strength. Jeremiah shouted to Zventibold, "You drive for the edge of the plateau. It's only about two miles. Me and this old feller will 'old them up."

  With that Zventibold clicked his tongue and the horses moved off at terrific speed. They careered wildly along the pathway. Zventibold stole a glance behind him: there were Jacks men spurring their horses after the wagon. He could see that Sergeant Jack had put on his metal eyepatch; he was ready for battle.

  William was engaged in vicious combat with one of the two front running militia. His sword gleamed a wicked arc as it sliced through sinew and bone. Jeremiah had tackled the other and was even now jointing his corpse. Within minutes, Jeremiah had the two neatly butchered and he leapt up on Simon along with William. The rest of Black Jack's men were away behind now but still they would catch up. Zventibold slowed the wagon until William and Jeremiah had caught up with him. Jeremiah's first words were - "Look, it's me they want. I've been sellin' low quality meats for years. They've finally caught up with me. I sold 'em slugs in the mince. I'm a criminal I admit it but I'm not half a bad as the evil Black Jack."

  William began to speak. "No! They want me for stealin' one of their 'orses."

  Zventibold of course knew that it was himself they were after as he had tried to assassinate The Autocrat. Jeremiah was convinced however that he was the object of Black Jack's quest. "Listen, you should leave me to them. I've done wrong and it's me as should pay."

  "I could not do that Jeremiah you have been good to me. Generous were thy mangoes," said Zventibold.

  They looked behind - Sergeant Jack's party was fast on their heels still, and was yelling most gross insults. The desert rushed by them and ahead they sighted the almost sheer edge of the plateau.

  "'ow are we goin' to get down there?" asked William.

  Jeremiah said, "Well lad there be a path, but it's steep and treacherous. One of us will 'ave to delay Black Jack or we'll never make it." Jeremiah smiled at William who even though he didn't trust him had to admire his courage. Nothing more was said until they were close to the edge. Over it they could just see a steep, stony path and below that about a thousand feet was the rich multi-green jungle of Wamawama watered by the seven rivers of Gilsland. Further still, lost in the hazy smudge of the horizon were the Mountains of Doom and glittering Kharkesh, their goal. The Militia were gaining ground. They heard the pounding of their hooves and then expertly, silently Jeremiah slipped out of his seat and rolled in the sand to get up unhurt. Zventibold tried to rein the wildly galloping horses.

  He turned and there was Jeremiah running at the Militia brandishing his cleaver and his knife. He charged them like a maniac, chanting a Pirakteshi battle hymn.

  "'E's a bold 'un, that old fool," said William. "I can't let 'im face them alone, mas'er."

  "No, William!" shouted Zventibold but William had turned Simon to the attack and was even now riding them down, Deathbringer shining in the sun.

  Zventibold judged that they could hold off Black Jack long enough for him to escape. But he was touched by the bravery and devotion of these two elderly men. He felt he could not easily abandon them and he pulled the cart to a halt. He climbed out of the seat and stood in the cart facing the fracas. Two men surrounded Jeremiah but he was an old hand and blood and bits sprayed from the edge of his cleaver. William too - ex-cavalryman, and now ex-doorman, was putting on a good show. He had by far the hardest job - Black Jack himself, his metal eyepiece gleaming in the harsh desert sun. He was held off only by the arc of Deathbringer. He shouted, "Accursed Monkey Man! Hector Damn you!"

  Zventibold felt that familiar tingle in his fingertips that told him that the spell was ready. "Duck!" he shouted to William who did as he said. Even here in the brightness of the desert light the jets of power were dazzling. They glowed like ethereal silver and struck Black Jack and the trooper behind him, blowing their heads clean off. William looked relieved. Zventibold glanced over to Jeremiah who had killed both his adversaries and was carefully salting them and wrapping them in their own clothes. "We better get to Wamawama quick before these boys go off," he said as the sun shone. It was the late afternoon of a nice day.

  20. A New Animal and a Bit of Bad Luck

  Zventibold thought it foolish to attempt to descend the steep path with the approach of night so close, but Jeremiah had overruled him; he was eager to reach Wamawama before the pieces
of the militia men he had collected became inedible.

  "I got to make a livin'," he said.

  They led the horses and wagon separately down the slope. Zventibold now had time to take in the full beauty of Wamawama- the variegated greens and browns of the jungle and the occasional glint from one of the many rivers. It was such a contrast to Piraktesh. Down there he would be free from capture and free too to plot his revenge. Soon he would reach Kharkesh - soon the sceptre of Piraktesh would be in his hand and the Diamond Throne would be filled with his round buttocks. It would be true to say that only gradually had he come to envisage himself as god-emperor; although Turvius had promised it to him long ago. He looked forward to the ultimate power it would give him. A little froth escaped from his mouth - an excited gleam filled his eyes. Then he saw Melissa's plaintive face swimming before his vision. She - yes she! - would be his bride: Empress of the wide realms of Piraktesh. He looked at Jeremiah and William who slipped and stumbled down the rocky path. They were his companions - even his friends - but still he doubted that he could part with the share of the empire he had promised them.

  The sun was low but they were much nearer the jungle now. He was unfamiliar with its wide world of trees - that green roof to the world. He was slightly afraid though he would not admit it except to himself. It scared him; even its name, so familiar to Jeremiah and William, ex-soldiers both and veterans of jungle campaigns. This world was strange to him. He had tried to pronounce it 'jungale' causing both William and Jeremiah to stifle a laugh. He would get it right next time.