"Your name will be known far and wide as the slayer of the Archmage!" he yelled. "His reign of tyranny is over!"
His joy was infectious, and I smiled.
He ran out and yelled, "Drink and food for all! Behold, the Archmage is dead! Behold the warrior has slain him!"
Cheers erupted throughout the entire bar, and I couldn't help but feel like I was off to a good start.
I was still wet, but the room was warm, and my stomach was full.
I crawled into the bed.
Pretinia crawled next to me and laid her head on my arm.
Despite the uproar outside, sleep came to me quickly.
Chapter 3
I woke up the next morning to a raucous group of dwarves, elves, and gnomes partying their asses off in the common room.
Pretinia was still asleep on my arm, so I struggled to not wake her as I crawled out of bed.
My back and shoulders ached from wearing my plate carrier through the night, and I decided it was safe enough to downgrade. I also had some serious monkey butt from the wet pants.
I walked out of the room, carrying my M4.
"The warrior arises!" came a shout from the corner. It was followed quickly by cheering and a slew of other drunken shouts.
Dykon came from behind the bar, his eyes were tired, but he had a spring in his step. He carried a plate of potatoes and a wooden mug of something. "We have horse, goat, sheep, or pig."
"Pig." I sat down and started popping the spiced potatoes into my mouth. There was no ketchup, mustard, or any condiment to be found.
The food was good, but a little bland. There were no forks, and everyone used their personal knife.
Dykon sat across from me. I marveled at his features. He was like a grown child, but with crow’s feet. His ears were pointed and twice the size of a human. His eyes were sharp though, and his irises, irisi, whatever the colored part is, had two distinct rings, one of bright blue, and one of lavender.
"Celebrating a lot last night, huh?" The party was still going and didn't seem to be petering off.
"The gravity of your action has not been properly explained." He drank from a wooden mug. It didn't have beer. The aroma was sweet, almost fruitish.
I waved for him to continue.
"The man you killed last night was the most powerful in the world. He was a tyrant of the worst sort. He was also deadly, and supremely powerful," Dykon said. "How you were able to kill him is still a mystery to me."
"He was a human," I said between chews, "All humans die." I then chuckled a little and said, "Valar morghulis."
His face betrayed a hint of confusion before he continued. "Such profound words, but until you arrived, they were not true. The Archmage lived a dozen lifetimes, and no sword or arrow could harm him."
"Welp, five-five-six isn't an arrow so."
He nodded as if understanding, but how could he? He had no idea of technology.
"What will you do now?" Dykon asked.
"Try to get home, I imagine."
"Where is home?"
"Opelika Alabama," I said and then added, "United States of America. Earth."
"I have never heard of these places. Do you know in which direction they lie?"
Flashes of me traveling through the cosmos hit me hard. "Up?"
He gave me that same look of confusion, "Do you mean north?"
"No, unfortunately, I do not. Do you have a map of the world of your planet?" I asked.
"Plan it," he said in English, although the accent was off. "What is this word?"
I sighed heavily. "Any map you have."
He got up, left, and returned minutes later with a map of some cities, some mountains, some forest, lakes, and rivers. It was like a Risk map, it had large details, but it was practically worthless.
The words beneath the towns and cities were strange, and I couldn't read them, but I did recognize it as writing.
"Where are we?" I asked as I hovered over the map.
Dykon pointed to the largest city, which was also the dead center.
I was about to ask about miles or kilometers, but stopped myself, "How many days travel to here?" I asked, pointing to a large mountain in the north.
"Forty by foot, perhaps fifteen by horse."
By the way, days in Teletha are not equivalent to days on Earth. They run about twenty-two and a half hours. Months are ten days, and there are ten months to a year. There is no such thing as a week, but they do break months into two fivedays. It took me a month in our time to figure out why people were calling an obvious toddler, a ten-year-old.
I sat back down, defeated. Teletha, as they knew it, was the size of Texas or maybe the US. Since gravity was normalish, I was on a planet the size of Earth.
"What's beyond the map?" I expected a shrug, or perhaps there is nothing.
"Many explorers have gone, but few have returned. Dragons, tribes of feral oraks, and fey are all they report."
"Fey?" I wasn't familiar with the term, but it translated.
"Those magical creatures of nature. They can manipulate the world as long as it aligns with their court."
"Of course, the court of the fey," I said sardonically.
"Do they not have fey where you come from?"
"Fairies? Yeah, but they mostly just wear pink and devour attention."
"The fey in this land are not to be underestimated. They can lure you to your death or cause you to fall in love with an animal. In fact, that is how oraks were created."
I looked at him, sidelong, "OK, what is an orak?"
"They are green or pink creatures that walk like a man but are nearly twice the size. They are aggressive and vaguely resemble a pig."
"Orcs? You're talking about orcs." Lord of the Rings was pretty clear on describing orcs.
"Orak is how we pronounce it. You have these where you are from?"
"Nope, just humans," I said. I took the place in; there were still gnomes, dwarves, and elves all hanging around.
"Then the humans have completed their conquest," he said sadly.
"What conquest?"
"The enslavement and I fear the destruction of all other races." He looked down into his mug.
"Um no, we just don't have any other races. Well, actually there were races. I guess there are races. It's confusing, but no, we just have animals and humans. No other sentient life, except maybe dolphins."
"What is a doll fin?"
"Like a fish, but it breathes air."
He nodded. "Perhaps a happier change of conversation. I have made up a room for you. You are welcome to stay here until you find a way home."
"Thank you! Thank you a lot," I said with a huge smile on my face. That was one less thing to worry about.
"It is the very least I can do," he said as he broadened his smile to match mine. "As well you may know, once the word gets out, the warrior who defeated the Archmage is staying under my roof, I will not be able to keep the barrels stocked."
"Fair enough."
"As for now, though, what are your plans for this day?"
"I was thinking about heading to that tower where I came in to see if there was anything I could find that would be useful."
He frowned a bit. "The palace is in flames, and all rooms have been looted."
"Fuck. I should head there anyway." I looked around and suddenly realized I hadn't a clue where the hell I was. "Take me there?" I asked.
He looked around the inn and yelled, "Danglesh, hold the bar; I'll return."
"Where you headed?" the gruff dwarf asked.
"The Temple of Bolokbal." Dykon stood and beckoned to me to follow.
"I can get three to escort you."
"If this human can kill the Archmage, then I am sure I am in capable hands."
I felt flattered but also naked. I lifted a finger to indicate I needed a minute and walked to my room.
Pretinia was still lying on the bed, lost in peaceful slumber. She was a wisp of a child, with one leg. There was something about that stum
p that looked wrong. It was as if the leg was neatly removed with a laser.
I had friends with missing limbs, and they were never straight cuts.
Her eyes slowly opened, and I saw fear in her eyes.
She immediately screamed, hauled herself back off the bed, and clutched herself while crying in a corner.
"Pretinia! I'm here." I felt pretentious for saying the phrase. I wasn't her father, uncle, anything really. I was the soldier who found her in the temple of the Archmage.
She continued to cry.
I heard footsteps behind me.
I placed my M4 on the bed and slowly crawled toward her.
"Pretinia, don't be scared."
She looked at me in the eyes, still sobbing.
I reached my arms and out, and she jumped forward, hugging me.
It took minutes for the little girl to stop sobbing.
I stroked her hair and made the best cooing noises my dumb infantry grunt ass could make.
I had known her for like a day, and already I was the closest thing at the moment to a father. Sadness washed over me, followed by contemplation, followed by extreme anger. What type of sick fuck would have a little girl in their tower?
We held each other for at least thirty minutes.
Once she stopped sobbing, I asked, "Are you hungry?"
She nodded yes.
I picked her up, turned around, and saw Dykon looking at me intently. He had a strange smile on his face. Something paternal.
I took her to the common room and sat her down.
Dykon made her a meal worthy of a king.
We all stood in silence as the young girl devoured her food. I was worried that she would go into a catatonic depression, but my fear was unfounded.
Dykon called across the bar, "Tankoos, a moment, please?"
The stocky dwarf deftly navigated the drunk singers and came to a halt in front of Dykon.
Dykon produced some coins, "Hire a handmaid. Have her bathe and clothe young Pretinia here."
The burly dwarf nodded.
"One with a fair disposition."
Tankoos smiled.
I kissed Pretinia on the head and said, "I'll be back soon."
She started to panic and sob.
Tankoos sat straight across from her and began to make stupid faces. He wasn't a very good clown, but seeing the burly bouncer attempt to humor a young girl made everyone a little happier.
Dykon and I left the bar.
"So this Archmage, what was his deal?" I asked as we walked down a mostly empty street. I expected revelers and partiers to be everywhere, but the word had not spread so easily.
"His deal?"
"His beliefs? Like what made him so bad?"
"Oh yes, I understand now. He was an ardent follower of Bolokbal, the god of dominion and strength." He did something weird with his hands that kind of reminded me of Catholics signing the cross.
"Was he like a slaver?"
"Only to the subspecies."
"Yeah, we still have that on Earth," I said morosely.
"You said you had no sentient beings other than humans?" He looked at me, trying to reconcile the contradictory information.
"Oh no, we don't. We just hate each other the good old fashion way; you know things that are important like skin color," I said as sarcastically as possible.
"You jest?"
"Some places still do that, but in my country, we try not to. We fail sometimes, but most people are good."
"And your warriors? Did they all carry these weapons?" He pointed at my M4.
How do you explain firearms to someone who has no frame of reference?
"More or less."
"Your country must be very powerful."
"Best country in the world," I said, filling myself with jingoistic pride. "Motherucking Murica!"
He looked at me very strangely, and I realized the first word had translated, but the second hand not. In other words, he heard motherfucking in Telethan, but Murica in English.
"Your language is perplexing," he noted.
"Don't feel bad, even people in my country don't like the way I speak."
There was an awkward silence for a few moments.
The streets of Teletha are divided into two categories, stone and mud. The stone streets represent the rich neighborhoods. You know the Rodeo Drives and Champs Elysees or whatever the frogs say. Stone roads make up around ten percent of the city, with every other road being mud, shit, and probably blood.
We walked down the mud path, winding between puddles that looked too big to jump and people attempting to not soil their knees. The smell was like a mix between a Korean run near a pig farm and a Baghdad slum.
The atmosphere among the sentients was strange. The word of fantasy Hitler's death had not reached the general populace yet. Everyone stared at the ground, lifting their heads only occasionally so as not to step in shit.
Fifteen minutes later, and we were walking on hard stone. The transition from muck to rock was not the only transition—the building material transitions from wood to brick. Street signs dotted the corners, and two very large placards like the old warning signs we posted at FOB entrances were prominently displayed at the edge of the nice street.
"What do those say?"
Dykon didn't even look my way, "Subspecies permitted only with proper licensing."
"Well, that's unfortunate." I walked up to the sign on the left and tore it down. I would like to say that I did it instantly, but those fucking signs were put in by some damn good carpenters, or whatever a sign putter inner is called.
I looked to my right.
Dykon watched me with a mix of fear and satisfaction. A moment passed, and a grin plastered his face. He then moved his hands in a series of complex patterns.
I heard some cracks come from the sign to the right, and I watched in amazement as a thin coat of frost slowly climbed up from the ground until the entire sign was covered and steaming.
Dykon walked up to it and flicked it with his finger.
It shattered into a thousand pieces like a T1000 taking a bath in a liquid nitrogen truck.
I gave my best golf clap, with a stoic and serious look.
He gave a deep bow.
"Feel good?" I asked.
"Even two days prior, and I would have been tortured, hanged, and my family for three generations imprisoned for such an act."
"I'm starting to get the impression that this Archmage was some kind of an asshole."
He bellowed a raucous laugh.
I looked at him, a little confused.
"A disgusting image, but yes, I believe that sums up his character quite well."
"OK," I said flatly, "Ready?"
He responded by walking on.
Two things I noticed about the neighborhood: first, everything was cleaner, and second, everyone was human.
"Only humans, huh?"
"The subspecies are relegated to the duties of housekeeper, tinker, or porter."
Not sure why, but I was slightly embarrassed. Like I somehow contributed to the plight of the people of Teletha. It was stupid because I had absolutely nothing to do with it.
I saw the magnificent spire of the temple of Bolokbal at least a mile out. The tower was easily the height of the Washington Monument, although that was where the similarities ended. It was made of black marble with green inlay, like some sort of Disney villain reject's headquarters. It was round, maybe twenty meters at the base, but only five at the top. The very top was castellated, with a single large banner flowing in the breeze. It was a giant eye.
"Sauron must be fucking jealous." I pointed to the banner.
"Who is Sauron?"
"Nevermind." I continued my stroll down the road.
We arrived at the steps to the palace a little too late. There was a gang of ten thugs, all holding clubs, boards, or knives, formed in a semicircle in front of the main entrance.
"Well, this can't be good."
"They belong to Pydak the Cl
ean; they will not attack unless we attack them."
I noticed the thugs all had man buns.
"Fuck sake, you guys have hipsters too?"
He sent a sidelong glance toward me.
"What are you doing here, tree fucker?" The voice came from a slender man with a belt of knives in a sash across his chest.
In the barracks, we had all manner of person. Ukrainians, Puerto Ricans, New Yorkers, and even one kid from South Central Chicago, although to be honest, he was more of a Steve Erkel than an Ice T. That group of rainbow cocksuckers used to call each other the worst slurs imaginable when they played Call of Duty. Never once, though, was their tone derogatory. The way that asshole thug called Dykon a tree fucker, made my blood boil.
I rotated my selector switch to semi.
A great and beautiful thing about fucked up Middle Earth, aka Teletha, was that nobody knew what a safety on a firearm was. So when I rotated it, no one knew that I was ready to kill every single one of them.
"I am from the plains, not the forest. I believe the term you are looking for is dew drinker."
Skinny bitch, that was my new name for him, faked a laugh.
Four others sycophantically joined in a moment later.
"I like you, Dykon, always have," Skinny Bitch said, killing the laughter unnaturally. "Why are you in the Priest Ward?"
"I asked him to bring me." I stepped forward, my hand relaxed on the pistol grip of my M4. I was twenty meters away from the nearest jerkoff and figured I could reflex fire at least two of the fuckers.
"Brykon's balls, who are you?" Skinny Bitch asked.
His voice reminded me of a cockney lowlife from that show, Peaky Blinders.
"I'm the guy who's gonna bend you over and fuck you in the ass unless you start showing my friend here a little respect."
"What'd you say to me?"
I'm not a murderer, and since I was sure a splinter would kill one of the backward fucks, I decided not to kneecap the nearest douchebag. The wood door behind the gaggle was thick and made of heavy wood. I raised my M4 and put a single round into it. The bullet passed harmlessly between Skinny Bitch and one of his entourage.
All of them jumped back, half of them put their hands to their ears, and even one of them yelped like a beat dog.
"My name is Staff Sergeant Holden, and if you do not move aside and let me enter, then I will slay half of you and turn the other half into newts!" I was happy to note that the word newt translated.
Of Gods & Grunts Page 2