Of Gods & Grunts

by Kyrell Kendrick

  He looked offended. Like legitimately offended. "Do you not know what you say, mortal! Three the proper number, the alignment, the power. Five," he spat, "Five is worthless."

  I put my hands up defensively, "Excuse the fuck out of me," I said.

  Cloy just shook her head.

  "Are you good with this?" I asked her, trying to get something, anything out of her.

  "It would be inappropriate of me to say one way or another," she answered without emotion.

  Feeling like I was about to get bent over and ridden hard, I begrudgingly acquiesced to his request. I did it because the little asshole was starting to become a lot more trouble than he was worth.

  "First, how do I even know you can answer the important questions?" I asked the little bastard.

  "My powers are formidable," he said. "How do you think you found a Stinger, this carriage, and those two fine horses?"

  "That was you?" I asked in disbelief. Like sincere disbelief, Snarf looked like he was good for making cookies in a tree, not importing shoulder-fired missiles to Teletha.

  "I am free to reveal that it was my rule of trapping. Three wishes must be made before the owner of the box is slain," he said proudly.

  I snapped my fingers, "The beer tree!"

  Cloy shook her head.

  Snarf smiled, "He had finished his second wish before you came to take my box."

  "Wait, what could I have wished for? Anything?" I said, thinking of a blue djinni turning some homeless punk into Ali Ababua.

  "Anything your heart desired could have been yours," he said.

  "Could you have sent me home?" I practically begged for the answer.

  "Yes," he said, smiling.

  I pumped my fist in the air and shouted. "Hell yeah!"

  Cloy looked at me in amazement, and Snarf just shook his head this time.

  "Why are you happy?" Cloy asked.

  After taking a minute or two to calm down, I replied, "Because I almost accidentally fell into a way home. Shit, if I keep looking, I am sure to find it!"

  "I cannot grant any more wishes, as I am no longer bound by that rule," he said.

  Stupid me, it hadn't even occurred to me to ask him to do that. It should have been my first instinct.

  "Yeah, but it's possible! Hell, you made a Stinger show up. All I have to do is find one more of these boxes or something like that!" I exclaimed.

  They both look at me with concern.

  "OK, Snarf, I'll make the deal, but when I ask one of my three questions, I will say this is one of my special questions. Got it." I said, happier than I had been in a long time.

  "A deal is struck!" he said chipperly.

  Chapter 17

  Red dragon meat is spicy. Yeah, it seems absurd to me too. Like that's just unimaginative, but it's true. Red dragon meat has a natural tabasco like flavor to it. It's really good, but it makes you feel like a rocket ship in the mornings if you know what I mean.

  We loaded up the head, both wings, all the claws, and the tip of the tail on the wagon and made our way to Gnomeland.

  No lions or tigers or bears were around. Cloy explained that dragons didn't like competition and had most likely eaten anything that moved.

  I didn't doubt that for a second, considering the dragon almost ate us too.

  The road to the entrance of Caramondon Hall went from barely noticeable to full-on Roman with no in-between.

  "We can relax now," Cloy said, "The gnomes will not allow bandits in their lands."

  "Nice," is all I could respond with.

  Snarf, for his part, was relatively quiet, although I swore I heard Cloy and him whispering in that weird language they used.

  I am not an idiot, and I know Cloy is a wizard or sorcerer or something, especially after memories of that night in the inn came back. I just never bothered to ask her about it. I figured if she wanted me to know, she would tell me.

  "The gnomes are wary of traders and travelers since the Archmage. It will be difficult to gain entrance into their stronghold. We will be required to hand over all of our weapons as well," she said, eyeing my M4.

  "Not happening," I replied, looking around.

  The sky was blue, the evergreens were green, and the clouds were white. It was a beautiful day.

  We spent two more days on the road before we finally saw a large wall manned by short people with crossbows, shields, and hammers.

  Two, what can only be described as war goats with gnome riders came charging up to us, six-foot lances and small frisby like shields adorned them.

  They got to within fifty feet of us, and I was about to call out and wave before they promptly turned around and sped off.

  "That was weird," I noted.

  "Do you know the gnomes so well as to determine what is weird and what is not?" Snarf asked.

  He had been quiet the entire ride. Why did he have to ruin something so beautiful?

  "No smart ass, I do not," I said.

  "Then you speak out of ignorance," he chided me.

  "Hey asshole, when I want your opinion, I'll pull your fucking string," I yelled.

  "Hmm," he said, smiling.

  I looked at Cloy, who just sat there face forward.

  I shook my head and scanned the horizon. I was worried that they might believe us to be invaders, or bandits, or something like that.

  "What do you think?" I asked Cloy.

  "Things beyond your puny mind can comprehend," Snarf replied.

  I gripped the reins tightly, "You can fucking walk if you wanna be a dick."

  He bowed graciously, "My apologies, my lord, I did not mean to offend. I was simply stating a fact, and giving reassurance to you, that I do, in fact, possess the necessary knowledge to answer any questions you may have."

  Slightly deflated, I turned my attention back towards the walls, "Just stop being an asshole."

  Cloy turned towards me, "They are not setting up for defense," she said. "In fact, I believe they are preparing a parade."

  I stood up and put my hand over my eyes.

  "How can you tell?" I asked.

  "They are blowing the horns of victory," Cloy said.

  "I can't hear anything," I replied, straining to identify anything that sounded remotely horn-like.

  "You use that thing," she said, pointing to the M4, "near your ears, a thing that I can hear a thousand paces away."

  I had been issued ear pro like everyone else, and like everyone else, I didn't wear it.

  We rode towards the wall without a further word.

  Cloy had not been wrong. The gnomes were literally dancing in jubilation at my approach.

  The first image that came to my mind was the lollipop guild greeting Dorothy and Toto. My second thought was, why the hell were they welcoming me as a hero or something.

  I whispered over to Cloy, "What is happening?"

  Stoically she remained quiet and faced forward.

  Cheers erupted, and gnomes of every walk of life led us through the walls and to the cliff face.

  Now let me tell you about this place. These little bastards had basically taken a natural cave in the side of a sheer cliff and put a semi-circle wall around it. Then they put these giant roofs over the entrance and the guard towers. I mean some super stout roofs.

  The cave entrance had a big gate or portcullis or whatever it was called, that was in the up position. The gate thing had bars the thickness of my arm, and spaces in between that I doubt a rat could have fit through. In fact, it was less a gate and more of a wall with holes.

  The gnomes themselves ranged from kids about one foot tall, to their biggest warriors at about four feet or so. The warriors were dressed in copper plate mail and carried long spears. They looked rather impressive, even though they were short.

  We were led into the fanfare, something I can get used to, towards a stable. An honor guard of twelve gnomes on war goats trotted along beside the carriage and more or less kept the other gnomes back.

  I stood up and examined the area.<
br />
  No shit, as I stood, the gnome crowd went wild.

  Feeling a little too eager and maybe cocky, I raised my hands in the air and yelled, "Hello gnomeland!"

  They screamed in utter delight. I felt like I was at a concert.

  As I was enjoying my spotlight, I saw the largest gnome ever head out from the cave and walk towards me.

  The crowd parted before him and bowed. He wore the shiniest silver like plate mail I had ever seen. He carried a sword that was a decent size for even me, and he had his helmet tucked under his arm.

  His face was serious, and he had a bright red magnificent beard.

  Now, I worked as an attachment to an SF unit on my first deployment. Those guys had some glorious beards, and as a private, I had some hero worship. Those beards paled in comparison to this gnome's amazing facial hair.

  So, Glory Beard approached us, and every single solitary gnome around the carriage was on a knee. I mean, they went from batshit crazy to church quiet in the time it took him to walk across the courtyard.

  I know it may seem like I am a disrespectful ass, but that is not the truth. Respect, by definition, is treating people as they deserve to be treated. Only Cloy had my actual admiration, and I truly believe I treated her properly.

  Glory Beard, by his very nature, demanded my courtesy.

  I jumped down and gave him the man nod.

  You know, the nod where men slightly close our eyes and nod forward in the whole, what's up kind of way. It's essentially the opposite of the what's up, look towards the sky, that we do with acquaintances.

  In a thick German accent, he said, "The warrior, slayer of the Archmage, defeater of Atronox, the Red Terror, graces Caramodon Hall with his presence. He is welcome here, as a guest of Tooknar Diamondtooth, King of Caramondon!"

  The crowd erupted again.

  "I am Stroknair Battlehand, champion of the king," he said bowing to me.

  I nodded my head and said, "I am Staff Sergeant Holden." I then added, "Thanks for all of this." It seemed like he expected more, so I added, "I am honored to be here."

  That was good enough, I guess, because he turned around and ushered me towards the cave.

  I can genuinely say when I walked into the cave, I was stunned by its beauty. I once visited the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican, and it had nothing on the grand entrance to Caramondon Hall.

  Gems of every color and hue were arranged in mosaics up and down the hall. Torches and candlelight shined on the murals and sprayed light everywhere. The gnomes had taken the natural curve of the ceiling with its stalagmites or stalactites, whichever one comes down, and lined them with gold and silver to reflect even more light. It was mesmerizing.

  The floor depicted scenes of battle, invention, community, and magic. Lining the edges of the floor was a gnomish script with what were obviously dates; however, I couldn't read them.

  "This is magnificent," I said to Glory Beard.

  He replied without looking back, "Caramondon Hall is the jewel of the gnomish people. It has stood for over one hundred generations."

  I kept walking with him, admiring the vast beauty. The hall we were in was easily the size of a basketball arena.

  Even our footsteps echoing sounded awesome.

  Cloy and dickface walked hurriedly to fall in at my side.

  "The king will receive you," Glory Beard said, and then added, "should your servants be announced?"

  I had no idea what that meant. I never had servants, and if I did, I wasn't sure if I wanted them announced or not.

  Cloy interpreted the pause in my reply correctly and answered for me, "We are not worthy of announcement, and will happily standby in the gallery."

  That seemed to make Glory Beard happy.

  I followed him to the end of the grand hall and stopped before a double door, seven feet tall, and made of a shiny metal that looked like bluish silver. Two guards in copper plate stood by each side, and one man in very exquisite garb examined me from the center.

  Glory Beard escorted my two servants to the gallery.

  "The king has requested you meet him immediately," he said in the most San Franciscan accent ever. It barely had a touch of the hard German accent.

  I held back a laugh. Something's across realities are the same.

  "Should I, uh," I didn't want to Game of Thrones the whole intro, by bending the knee, but I didn't want to insult the guy who had set up our arrival, "Bow or something?"

  "No," he said, putting his left hand on his hip and his right pointer finger to the edge of his mouth. "The king is welcoming you as a peer. You should be very honored," he said, cocking a hip out.

  "Awesome," I said, shrugging my shoulders to adjust my plate carrier.

  The dandy gnome motioned for the guards to open the doors, who then complied immediately.

  "Staff Sergeant Holden, slayer of the Archmage, destroyer of the Red Terror, hero of the realm!" Fabulous yelled.

  I can't remember that one guy who was chunky, had a mustache, and threw glitter everywhere, but he and fabulous would have been best friends.

  I walked in, smelling like ballsack, covered in dirt and grime from being on the road for weeks, to a polished black glass floor, with opulent bluish silver pillars. The room was a hundred feet long and led straight to a dais with a throne on it.

  Gnomes lined the walls, and near the throne, I saw Cloy and my boy Sir Glory Beard standing erect.

  The gnome, who was obviously the king, motioned me forward and feeling like I was going to a promotion board, I did as requested.

  Back straight, arms swinging perfectly, heel to toe, I marched towards the regent.

  As I passed the gnomes on the sides, they bowed or curtsied. There were probably two hundred little dudes in the throne room.

  I stopped about two paces from the platform, and Glory Beard bowed slightly to me, and then stepped forward, faced in my direction, and placed his hand on his hilt.

  I looked at him in surprise and dismay, sensing a fight was about to happen.

  Glory Beard just winked.

  Not sure what to do, I looked up at the small figure who commanded the room.

  He wasn't as, I don't know what the word is, cool, I guess, as Glory Beard, but he did have everyone's respect.

  I bowed slightly, which was apparently the right move.

  "You, who have slain the Archmage, and your cohort are guests in my city," he said proudly. His voice was old and wise. It reminded me of that old dude who played Gandalf, or probably more accurately, it reminded me of Gandalf.

  "Thank you, your majesty," I said. I felt awkward saying your majesty, because the only time I had ever said it to someone, I was insulting.

  He ushered Fabulous forward, who expecting the beckon and call, came rushing towards the throne.

  Fabulous gave a deep and respectful bow, and then went to a knee, "Yes, my king?"

  "See to it that the warrior receives an apartment in my cavern," he commanded.

  "At once, my king," Fabulous said.

  The king then rose and addressed the court, "Tonight, we shall feast in honor of this prestigious visit!”

  Cheers erupted.

  I'm not going to lie; the rest of that day and night are blurry in my memory. Let me sum it up for you. We drank, I hit on Cloy, we drank some more, I tried to pick up Snarf and throw him across the room. We drank some more. Cloy got mad at me, but wouldn't tell me why. We drank some more, and I woke up halfway through the next day.

  Cloy looked over at me, disappointment on her face.

  "Fuck," I said, rubbing my head.

  Let me set the record straight here. Gnomes can fucking drink. Their shots are about the size of thimbles, but their alcohol kicks you in the balls. I once stopped in some shithole airport on my way back from Manas, after I was in the sandbox the first time, and bought some schnapps. Dumb ass me thought the schnapps was just like the American shit you see in the cordial section at the Class VI. Nope, the schnapps was basically whisky made from various fr
uit, and you could hardly tell what it was made from.

  Every bastard gnome in fucking gnomeland wanted to do a shot with the man that killed the Archmage.

  I mean, I understand why, that cocksucker had basically destroyed gnome culture and enslaved half the population.

  Anyway, I figured little thimble shots would be easy. I was drinking water through the night too. Nope, after literally fifty shots, I was done.

  "Have fun last night," she said in the snarkiest tone I had ever heard.

  Snarf walked in with brunch on a silver platter, a root, and a lot of water.

  "What's with the stick?" I asked as he put the small tray on the bed next to me.

  "Root from a Girvine tree, it will heal your headache," he said.

  I looked up at Cloy, who just nodded.

  "Do I just chew it or?" I said, picking up the root.

  "Chew it until it is soft, and then swallow your saliva, but not the root itself," he said.

  A few memories flashed into my head, and I became embarrassed. There was no easy way to get past what I had done, so I threw some MAN on my character and said, "Snarf, I'm sorry I was a dick to you last night."

  Snarf smiled a little, and then said, "All is forgiven." He then turned and walked out.

  I looked up at Cloy, "And I'm sorry if I was mean to you too," I said, remembering that I had more than once tried to hit on her.

  She just laughed and shook her head, "You're an idiot."

  The way she said it showed that I was forgiven.

  I stood up and found my clothes had been cleaned during the night. Even the little hole in the crotch of my cryetech’s had been sewn shut.

  Cloy turned around.

  I had taken a bath before the feast but was in desperate need of another. Not because I was dirty, but because hot baths were a luxury and helped me relax.

  Five minutes later, I was soaking in a tub.

  Two male gnome servants stood by, one holding a towel, the other a bottle of something.

  "What's in the bottle?" I asked.

  The gnome stepped forward and bowed. Keeping his eyes low, he said, "Your Grace, the bottle contains the essence of yellowpetal, bluebonnerie, and nerota."

  I recognized the flowers and figured they would be awesome in my bath.