Righty nodded at Grimbledung. “Just make sure you keep to your word, Gnome.” He placed his hands on his hips. Onto two sword hilts. “Trying to escape is a capital offence.”
Grimbledung smiled, “That’s a coincidence. It’s also a capital idea!” He waggled his ears.
Righty stared at him. Angrily. He pointed at the flap of the wagon, “Get going. We’re only stopped for a little bit.”
Grimbledung nodded and moved to the flap. He was still flapping his arms. “Sounds good to me. I’ve got business to attend to.” With that he ducked under the flap of the covered wagon and down the three steps to the ground. Looking around he saw they were in a forest. How big it was, he had no idea. Where it was, he had no idea. Which direction home was, he had no idea. Surrounded on all sides by the unknown; it’s the perfect place to escape from! Grimbledung nodded.
Righty put a hand on Grimbledung’s shoulder and led him to the front of the wagon. When he got there, the driver offered down a short-handled shovel and a copy of the some sort of parchment. “Can you read?” The driver asked.
“No,” Grimbledung said honestly. “Why?”
The driver smirked, “Figured you could catch up on current events to see how dire your situation is.”
“The only current events I’m interested in are the events currently going on around me.” He snatched the shovel and parchment from the driver’s hand, “And I don’t need a parchment to tell me they’re dire.”
“Let’s go,” said Righty. Once again, he put his hand on Grimbledung’s shoulder and led him out of the circle of wagons.
The forest seemed fairly dense and ostensibly, large. Perfect!
After just a few dozen paces, the Halfling pulled Grimbledung to a halt. “Here’s good a place as any.” He pointed to a tree. “Get to it.”
Grimbledung stared at the Halfling. “Now just a minute there, Righty. There’s no way I’m going there.”
Righty narrowed his eyes. “All you’ve been doing is complaining about needin’ to go. Now you don’t?”
Grimbledung hopped back and forth, “No no, I really need to go. I just can’t go when someone’s watching. It’s private business, doing one’s business.”
Righty exhaled. Truth be told, he was not looking forward to having to watch the ‘upcoming events’. “Fine. I’ll give you a little privacy. But just a little.” He pointed to a tree another dozen paces away. “Use the other side of that tree and I’ll wait right here. I expect you back shortly.” He crossed his arms -biceps bulging- and leaned against the tree.
“Thanks Righty. You know, it’s embarrassing enough, just to have to ask permission to go,” Grimbledung said honestly. “I’ll be right back,” he lied. He began to walk towards the designated tree. When he was halfway there, he turned to look at Righty. He was still leaning against the tree and keeping a watchful eye. “Oh, and please don’t talk to me while I’m behind the tree. That just creeps me out.”
Righty nodded. ”Yeah, me too,” he admitted.
Grimbledung shuffled behind the tree. When he got there he peeked around it and waved to Righty, “I’m here safe and sound!” He called. Righty just stared back. A shovel and a parchment! That’s a start. Now you just need a bag to carry your loot in! Grimbledung nodded. “That’s next.” Carefully he turned so the tree was directly in front of him. He began to take slow steps backwards, keeping the tree between him and Righty. “That poor Halfing’s gonna get beat on account of me.” It’ll take half a dozen to do it and I’m sure he’ll get his licks in as well. Don’t go soft on me now! “I’m not. He just seemed to be an all right guy. As far as Halflings go.” Just shut up and keep moving!
Grimbledung kept moving backwards. Thankfully, he only had to squeeze by a tree that was directly in his path once; the others he was able to sidestep without any difficulty. After a few minutes, there was almost a hundred yards between him and his original tree. Hoping it was enough, he finally turned and jogged away. “Time to put some real distance between us,” he huffed as he went.
After five minutes of running, he stopped to catch his breath. And take care of business.
Righty leaned against the tree. “What a rotten duty to pull,” he said to no one in particular. Keeping his eye on the tree, he slouched down and sat. “Stinking rotten duty.” He was unable to see around the tree. Thankfully. Even so, he was sure the odd Gnome was still there. After all where could he go? He had a perfect field of view of the tree and the surrounding forest. “Hurry up you!” He called. It wouldn’t be long before the wagon train of loot would be on the move again. The Lord High Priest always looked forward to fresh shipments of loot during an invasion. This train -with its notorious captive- was even more anticipated. He’d finally earned his place in the wagon train, or at least a good a place as a Righty could, and he didn’t want a stinking Gnome to muck it up.
Another few minutes, he thought. They had been feeding him an awful lot of onions. He smirked. They had plenty of other vegetables, as well as meat but in a unanimous vote it was decided that a diet of onions and tomatoes was all the infamous Gnome deserved.
After another few minutes, Righty stood. He stared at the tree. He had not seen any movement at all. Strange. He stood up and looked harder. Nothing. Hesitantly, he began to approach the tree. “Hey Gnome. Are you done yet? We need to get back,” he called to warn the Gnome. The last thing he wanted to do was to catch him with his pants down. Figuratively and -more importantly- literally. “Hey” he called as he arrived at the tree. Steeling himself, he stepped to the side and looked down. His stomach fell to his knees. Dizziness washed over him. “Hey!” He called as he looked around, in a vain hope that the Gnome had merely chosen a different tree. A knot formed in his stomach. “HEY!” He shouted into the air. The forest spun around him as he looked around. A large black bird squawked at him, mockingly. It then flew off. Purposefully.
Righty put his hands on his hips as he spun around. “Stinking Gnome! I’m going to KILL you!” He called in the hopes the Gnome could hear him.
He couldn’t.
“I’ll track you down and stick you like a pig!” He tried again.
Maybe.
With that, Righty turned and ran back to the wagon train as fast as he could. They would need to organize a proper tracking party. As he went, he grimaced at the hard time the other Halflings would give him for losing the Gnome…
They would.
…But any luck, they would have him back in custody by nightfall...
Fat chance.
... and he would never have to face the Lord High Priest concerning the entire incident.
That, it would turn out, would be the least of his problems.
Or the High Priest’s.
Chapter Sixteen
20,000 KiloSmoots Above The Plains
Doc Marone moved around the men who were lounging in the sun. Even though there were those that said otherwise, he firmly believed that fresh air and sunlight was important in the recovery of a wounded soldier. Because of this, he moved all the soldiers -even the most seriously wounded- out into the courtyard to get some fresh air and sunlight. Bandages that could be pulled back to allow wounds to air dry were pulled back. By the third day, more and more soldiers were finding their own way to the courtyard. To keep morale high the newly appointed leadership (the previous Sergeant at Arms had disappeared the evening the wounded first arrived) moved around the men, passing out food and water, and encouraging words.
Thanks to the actions of certain soldiers during the Halfling Battle of Big Horn (as it was now being called), the garrison was now under the command of the newly promoted Captain Ollie. To ensure the Cartographer’s Guild didn’t get upset, the name “Prost Garrison” was kept.[8]
Several soldiers were posted on the walls, keeping an eye out for any rogue Halflings. On two occasions, bands of five to ten Halflings had tried to attack the garrison. Unsuccessfully. And although they tried, the soldiers were unable to take any of the Halflings as prison
ers to find out just how many were still marauding across the countryside.
“ALARM!” One of the soldiers shouted. Alarmed. He pointed eastward. And strangely, upward. “Everyone to your posts and may the gods save us!” He staggered backward. He turned and bolted to the end of the wall, hiding in the watch tower. “To your posts!”
The soldiers in the courtyard looked up at the hysterical man. Soldiers quickly moved to climb the stairs up the wall as Doc stepped forward. “What’s going on up there?”
As the soldiers made it to the top of the wall, they too looked eastward and also staggered back.
“Corpsman!” Doc called. “CORPSMAN!”
Dutifully the Corpsman came running up. “Moving!”
“Stay with the wounded and I’ll see what I can...” His voice trailed off as a huge shadow covered him.
The Corpsman’s eyes were large as he looked over the doctor’s shoulder. “Delberger’s left nut!”
Steeling himself, Doc Marone turned, half expecting to see a fast approaching, full grown dragon. With perhaps a Halfling or two riding it.
He was equally amazed.
The monstrous dirigible moved silently several hundred feet above the planes directly towards Prost Garrison. With well over three dozen gigantic bladders seemingly stuffed into sturdy netting, bulging out the holes in the net, they blocked out a large swath of the sun’s morning light. Currently the light that was being blocked was the light destined for Prost Garrison. The net had ropes that lead down like a hundred tentacles grasping two long, flat-bottomed vessels that looked remarkably like open, single-deck river barges. Mainly because that was what they had previously been. They were lashed side to side, creating a 75 foot long by 50 foot wide platform under the bladders. It swayed slowly as a large corkscrew spun rapidly at the back end of the structure. Hanging below was what appeared to be a massively oversized boat rudder- it stuck down into the open air a full 30 feet.
“And his right one too,” agreed Doc Marone.
Steps could be seen in the trailing edge of the rudder as it suddenly turned to the side. The entire vessel pivoted and began what appeared to be a sideways slide towards the garrison.
“They’re club hauling to give us a broadside!” One soldier shouted. Several who had spent some time at sea ducked down in anticipation of what would most likely be a devastating barrage.
Reuben bounded up the stairs to the parapets. “Everyone calm down. They’re here to pick up us Gargoyles. They don’t mean any of us harm!”
Even though the Gargoyles had been wholeheartedly accepted by the soldiers, they still continued to look up nervously. Most of the men had never seen anything larger than a great eagle in the air- with its mighty twelve-foot wingspan. A scant handful had seen a full-grown dragon in flight. None had ever seen two river barges floating across the sky. Soldiers who were inside came out to gawk as word spread of the once-in-a-lifetime display.
Thanks to its size and height, from the ground it seemed to be moving fairly slowly, but from the deck of it, the terrain below passed as a reasonable, fast as a horse could run, pace.
A haggard looking man ran to the front of the vessel- long grey hair flowing behind him as he went. “Prepare to descend!” He ordered as he peaked over the forward rail. “We’re just about there!” He turned and bolted back amidships where he could better control the crew.
Ten deckhands jumped to action. The deck of the ship was broad and open. Twenty weight-saving tents of various sizes were erected on the deck. The only solid structure was a twenty-food wide bronze trough that ran almost the entire length of the vessel, straddling where the two barges met. It was positioned twenty feet above the deck on thick poles spaced evenly on either side. The deckhands clambered up ladders to the top of the trough. They looked down at the man “Ready Captain!” They shouted as they each grabbed a large lever on their particular section of the trough. They were all leaning back on their ladders to keep from the extreme heat being given off by the red-hot coals that filled the two foot-deep trough.
“Steady,” said the Captain. “Steady.” He peered over the leading edge of the vessel as it skidded sideways at the garrison. “We’re two hundred feet out. Cut the outers!”
Dutifully, the deckhands at the forward and rearward section of the trough pulled their respective levers. As they pulled the lever, a large, leathery sheet flipped from one end of the trough to the other, covering the fire. The men leaned forward as the heat was almost immediately cut off. The bladders above them seemed to lose a little fullness.
“Ready two and nine!” Said the Captain. “Hundred fifty to go!” He looked back at the pilot. “Keep her steady!”
The Pilot was looking into one of several large tubes that, thanks to their expertly placed mirrors, gave him a perfect view to the front and side of the vessel. He nodded without looking up from the tube.
“Two and Nine!”
The two sailors matched the previous pair in their actions. Almost immediately, the vessel began to lose altitude. It now seemed on a collision course with the large stone garrison.
“Cut the screw!”
As the screw ground to a halt, the forward momentum of the vessel dropped as well. It was now creeping towards the stone wall at a leisurely, just faster than a walk, pace.
Not knowing what to expect, the soldiers on the wall hurried down to the courtyard.
Not wanting to be hit, Reuben followed close behind.
The large vessel continued to descend as its side passed over one corner of the garrison’s wall by a mere twenty feet.
‘Steady!’ the soldiers heard a voice call. A face haloed by grey hair leaned out over the side of the ship as it passed - even more slowly now - over the courtyard of the garrison. “If you wouldn’t mind in manning the ropes?” He called down.
The soldiers looked at each other. Ollie, having spent some time at sea understood immediately. “Cast away!” He called. He turned to look at the soldiers. “Grab the ropes and hold tight,” he ordered. “Ready!” He called up.
Like many vines, a dozen thick ropes were tossed over each side of the large vessel. The ropes were thick as a man’s wrist and the soldiers jumped out of the way as they slapped hard on the courtyard stones. “Lash them to something,” Captain Ollie ordered. He looked around the courtyard. Being a courtyard, there was nothing to lash to. “Well that’s just inconvenient. Pull hard men!”
The soldiers grunted as they pulled on the ropes. Even though the large craft had slowed to a crawl, it still pulled the men across the courtyard.
“Everyone on the ropes!”
Soldiers nodded at their new Captain as they grabbed hold and began an epic tug of war. For a moment, it looked like the craft would creep right by the garrison, but finally it ground to a halt just before the rudder struck the outer wall.
The old man in the floating vessel leaned out from the railing. “Pull us along until the rudder is touching the wall, if you please,” he called down.
With grunts and heaves, the men inched the vessel forward until the rudder hit.
The old man’s head pulled back out of view. ‘Douse five and six’ was heard below. Within a moment, the large vessel lowered until the bottom of the barges rested on the parapets. With only minor creaking and groaning, the entire mass finally came to a precarious rest on two adjoining walls. The soldier in the guard tower peeked out at the massive vessel not five feet from him. Not knowing what else to do, he swooned.
The man peeked out again. “You can let go of the ropes. We’ll be fine unless the winds pick up.” He looked at the horizon. “We should be fine for a while, I think.” A smile came to his face. “Permission to come aboard?”
Ollie chuckled. “Permission granted, Captain. Come on down and bring any crew that wants a little time on land.”
The man disappeared again. After a short while, he stepped over the railing onto the steps in the rudder and nimbly made his way to the top of the wall. With a ceremonious hop, he landed on th
e stones with both feet. “Ahh, land,” he remarked. He looked left and right. When he spied the stairs leading down, he beckoned for his crew to follow.
Captain Ollie was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “Welcome aboard. Or maybe ashore, I think.”
The man smiled. “That works for me.” He put out his hand. “Phileous Verne. Captain of the Nemo.” He gestured upward. “Please call me Phileous.”
“Pleased to meet you Phileous. I’m Captain Ollie.” He frowned. “As an orphan, I never did find myself a last name. Just call me Ollie.” He gestured with both hands as he smiled back, “I’m the commanding officer of this once mighty garrison you have now turned into a dry dock.”
Reuben moved to the two men. “Phileous. It’s really good to see you.” He looked up. “As usual, you make a grand entrance.”
Phileous patted Reuben. “Is there any other kind worth making?”
Reuben shook his head. “Not when mad sorcerer masons are involved, I don’t imagine. Where’d you come up with the idea for that thing?”
“I was watching a fire and saw bits of paper float above the flames. It gave me an idea.”
“That’s one huge idea.” Reuben took in the ship. “A huge idea.
“So you came all the way from EternCity? You made good time; that’s a couple hundred thousand Smoots,” remarked Ollie.
“More or less.”
“That’s amazing,” said Captain Ollie.
Reuben nodded, “That’s typical.” He smiled at his friend. “What, you couldn’t make anything bigger?”
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