Minyon paused for a wave of memories, face awash, his eyes aflood.
“Once upon a time in this wood, hearts were lighter, life was good. Those were the days of another Hurx, the older brother, Treasuror Ayryx. He was a kind and gracious leader, letting his people go as they pleased. Indeed, that’s when my family came to be welcomed in from the Wild and saved.
“Lord knows what would happen to us today, under the thumb of this lesser kin…”
John Cap had a question he couldn’t hold in. “So, is there no overthrowing him?”
“Shhh, his ears are everywhere, friend. He has allies enough to back his birthright and crush any organized faction or threat. No, for now his rule is secure and dissent but a dance in the dark of the night… hidden away from this clear light of day… shadowy, unseen… for the time being…”
Minyon Myne’s words tailed off to a whisper as he looked cautiously side to side.
“Although there’s a prophecy that I know, an old one that foretells a good folk awoken…”
Just then came the call from the council hall. “Food! Drink! Bring them now!”
A great bull horn blew long and loud.
“Holy cow! That’s sure an earful.” John Cap cringed at the deafening sound, his square jaw twisted into a grimace. “I won't ask for whom that big horn blows — I think I already know...”
Even worse, to add to the young man’s chagrin, Minyon suddenly turned on him. Tent-bound, that is, and ready to go.
“Hold on, Mr. Myne — aren’t you going to help us?”
The man in black made a half loop back. “You must be patient my foreign son. I will do what I can when the time comes.”
John Cap slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Jeez, I’ve heard this song before. Does anything really happen here?”
“More than you could ever dream,” answered Minyon cryptically. “In the meantime, please have faith while the brother Treasuror’s game plays out. The fates have a way of twisting in court.”
The young Atlas shrugged. “If it’s faith you want… that’s about all I’ve got. I can count on this fist our other options — sure as heck nothing to build a case on. Not unless you’ve got your own Perry Mason standing by to help.”
John Cap noticed that Minyon looked puzzled.
“What I mean to say is, though we’ve just met, I really have no choice. Plus you seem like an honest guy. So… yup, I’ll trust you Mr. Myne.”
The elderman grinned and turned again, but stopped himself one last time. He stared into space, considering something.
“You must remember this, John Cap. In our heartless and bloody land, a kiss is just a kiss. But true friends and enemies are forever. Choose wisely the new ones you make today and you’ll taste the fruits as time goes by.”
“Thanks for that classic tip,” chirped John Cap. “I think we’re beginning a beautiful friendship…”
Eela pursed her lips in the distance and blew him a parting goodbye. Axon made a throat-slashing motion. With that, the Mynes were gone.
The crew flew back to their cookery work, knowing they’d better deliver or else — they’d be battered and buttered themselves. And so the ale girls made it rain. The lunch ladies launched their gravy train. “Time to serve!” the battle cry. All mustered to join the food fight.
“Later, tots!”
“Wait! We’ll catch up!”
They peppered the pathway to the tent, tray after tray assaulting it. A barrage of meatballs and deviled eggshells such as the stranger had never seen.
“If I weren’t the turkey, I’d call this Thanksgiving.” John Cap wasn’t kidding.
Somewhere in the midst of that moveable feast, three brothers fought earnestly just to make headway.
“Hurry Ayron!”
“You’re falling behind.”
“I’m doing… my best… Ayr…”
“There’s no time.”
“Arrowborne needs us,” huffed Pyr.
“And soon!”
“Before there’s death in the afternoon…”
Somehow they rose to the challenge again, these sons of Hurx, though not yet men. They met the canvas in nothing flat and bulled their way right through it.
The three Mynes arrived at the door just behind them but, unlike the boys, were barred by the Guard.
“Hold there elderman! Not so fast — only the Treasured of Treasured may pass.” The doorman waved a parchment skin clutched tightly in his unarmed hand. “The Treasuror’s left a special list and your name isn’t on it.”
Minyon bowed to the ardent Guard as if he’d expected every word. “Good soldier, I thank you for your service. Of course I would expect no less.” His voice rolled out in a velvet fog, thick as the drunk from a keg of grog.
Axon and Eela prowled in the background, awaiting a sign, their father’s command. Two trained attack dogs, canines Myne, minding their master from behind.
All of a sudden Minyon squinted and peered deep into the doorman’s eyes.
“I sense, brave lad, that your mother’s unwell… the belly… an infestation, is it?”
“Uh… yes sir. She’s got the hellworms.”
“Yes, and a nasty case of them. I can all but feel your pain myself, the anguish of watching her waste away.”
“Worse every day,” the pikesman croaked. “The herber says there is no cure.”
Minyon pressed his palms together. “Fear not. Tonight I shall pray for her. If I have your faith, my son, she’ll recover.”
“Thank you, elderman. But I still can’t…”
“You’re doing your job. I understand.”
“Brother Treasuror’s orders,” he whispered.
Then, like some crow’s cry, a voice of authority cawed out disturbing the midmorning air.
“What seems to be the trouble here?!”
The voice belonged to Madam Pum, eldest of the elderwomen and great matriarch of the settlement Keep. Her ancient face was full of furrows, creases made deeper by a frown that showed how unamused she was.
The flustered sentry was slow to respond. Dame Pum did not wait for an explanation.
“Guard! This man is a full-honored elder, the best and the brightest of our rising stars. You’d be well advised to learn your place and show him due regard!”
“Yes ma’am. But…”
But she would not hear excuses. Her frown only deepened. She went on.
“Know too that he serves as my advisor, confidant, and right-hand man and has from the moment of his appointment, now two eventful fortnights ago. Imagine — just one month of moons since anointment and who among us has his gifts? The kingly instinct, the wizardly wisdom, the vision of a holy man.” She shook her crooked cane at him. “None but this soul, lowly doorman, elderman Minyon Myne…
“And now, if I am not mistaken, you’ve found that name at the top of your list.”
“It was there all along, ma’am.”
“That’s more like it!”
Minyon bent one knee to the ground and gently took hold of Madam Pum’s hand. He kissed the ring on her wrinkled finger then bowed his head as if to be knighted.
“I am humbled, Lady Pum, by these honors you lavish so freely upon me — and all the more by your company, given how sweet it is.”
The old woman giggled, a gleam in her eye. “Rise, dear minister. It is time.”
Minyon climbed to his feet again and walked his patron to the entrance. Axon and Eela fell right behind — until the doorman blocked them.
“Not you two. I have my limits.” He stuck a chop stick in their path, a skewer of yellow and black.
They pushed back.
“So!” said the sentry, reacting in kind. He didn’t give an inch this time.
“You may recognize the head Guard’s pike. I’m sure he’d be pleased to have me use it. A little blood might shine it up, once you’re polished off…”
“Enough!”
The elderwoman squawked in anger, flapping her flabby arms in the air.
“Axon, Eela — wait for me there.”
Both bared their teeth but obeyed their father as he vanished through the door.
It was no more than a few seconds later when Taan-syr appeared and stuck his neck out.
“Serf’s up, coast Guard! Heed my call! Fetch the captive and head for the hall.”
“Aye sir!”
“We’re all ears…”
“Move your butts! And take the usual short-cuts.”
The two saluted and set right to it, whistling while they worked. Their tune was something childlike, except for a hint of darkness.
John Cap, just unchained from the ground, blinked as he turned to face the sun. But he had a surprise when he opened his eyes. “God, you’ve got to be joking dude.” He found himself drowning or swarmed, all surrounded, up to his lids in demon kids.
“Now I’ve really seen everything…”
There had to be hundreds draped in black and hooded each wielding a hatchet or axe, the menacing kind with half-moon blade as sharp as the edge of night and day. Row after row in an eerie array… They lined up like children of the corn and began an enchanting chant.
Charming prince, hi ho hi ho
Be our clown you tight-roped fellow
Or we’ll try you circus-style
And laugh your ringing head off too
Now, big bozo, have a snooze…
As they sang, they spun John Cap like a top. He could do nothing to make them stop.
“Why don’t you dwarfs go find Snow White instead?”
It made him dizzy, woozy, and sleepy — a feeling strange and foreign to him.
“Somebody… set my alarm for seven…”
A wave of them swept him from his feet and carried him off to meet his fate.
“This, my friend Boxbo, is some demonstration.”
“New classic, Ixit. A de-Cap-itation!”
The mouth of the great tent yawned wide open and into the belly of it they went.
Four young flowers of the Keep wilted in the loveless heat. Petal to petal they clung and wept. At last they had no dew drops left.
Words were their only consolation.
“O captain, my captain, your trip is done.”
“The man of my dreams is good as gone.”
“Good knight, sweet prince — it’s over now.”
“Johnny we hardly knew ye…”
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To be continued… Look out for the next exciting episode of Lore of the Underlings!
About the Author
John Klobucher is the author of many technical manuals that you’d never want to read. But he is also to blame for Lore of the Underlings, this ill-advised epic adventure that’s available to you in tasty little episodes, with new ones coming — farm-fresh, organic, and cruelty-free — every now and again. (For more behind-the-scenes news and nonsense, hie thee to this bloggery: loreoftheunderlings.com).
John has also been known to paint a little, including the watercolors used in the cover art for Lore of the Underlings.
John lives in Framingham, Massachusetts, USA with his wife Diane, son Sam, and daughter Mia.
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Other ebook titles by John Klobucher:
Lore of the Underlings: Episodes 1 & 2 ~ A Door to the Lore
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 3 ~ Fyryx
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 4 ~ The Letting Pen
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 5 ~ Into the Pit
Print titles by John Klobucher:
The Lore Anthology
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Visit John Klobucher’s author page at Smashwords.com
Lore of the Underlings: Episode 6 ~ Meeting Minyon Page 4