Of Gods & Grunts

by Kyrell Kendrick

  It had just occurred to me that I never even told them why I was visiting. I was so caught up in the fanfare and adulations that I never even mentioned to anyone of authority the purpose of my visit.

  A couple of thoughts crossed my mind, like lying or misleading them. Those thoughts were quickly replaced by common sense. Not only was I probably followed, but I also had one of their servants lead me to my destination.

  "I need ammunition," I replied.

  Snarf gave me a weird look, and Cloy only smiled.

  "Hmm," the queen said.

  The king went into a long war story about how he ran out of ballista ammunition fighting goblins. Fucking goblins are real, by the way.

  By the time he was finished, I was actually quite engrossed in the fight he had. Goblins lived under the ground and were actually quite a menace to gnomeland.

  "Goblins, of course, or nothing compared to the gherrinfresser," the wizard remarked.

  I wanted to say bless you but thought better against it. He seemed to be truly troubled by the name.

  "The what?" I asked, taking the obvious bate.

  "The gherrinfresser, or gher, are abominations that live deep beneath the mountain. They are evil incarnate," the wizard said.

  Poor Tian started to shake a little.

  "In fact, Tianarak Lokin," the wizard indicated the gnome that was literally sitting next to him as if I didn't know who the guy was, "survived an encounter with them."

  There it was, the true reason for having the gnome there. There was no sense in belaboring the point. I jumped in headfirst into the story, "Is that so? I would love to hear what happened."

  Tian looked startled, took a long drink of wine, and then stared that stare into the nothingness that soldiers know too well.

  After pausing a moment, he built up the courage and started.

  "Was part of a mining crew. Expedition for gems and new copper veins in the deep dark. That's where the big ones lie, you see. Crickets, walking mushrooms, and goblins are usually what you worry about down there," he said, shaking.

  I looked at Cloy and mouthed, "Crickets?"

  She held her hands together to indicate a small insect and then drew them apart, showing that the crickets were probably not as tiny as I thought.

  "But the gher," he said with horror, "they are something completely else." He took another drink.

  I wasn't sure if he was a natural storyteller or just trying to string us along, but the gnome knew his craft. We all sat with anticipation for him to continue his yarn.

  "They even look evil," he said, staring into the distance. "Blotchy white skin, evil red eyes, and two long tentacles hanging from where a nose should be."

  I tried to imagine it in my mind but had difficulty.

  "Bald as a baby's bottom," he said and then looked sheepishly towards the queen.

  The queen beckoned him to continue, while she silently nodded that it was OK.

  "As evil as they look, nothing can prepare a gnome for their aberrant heart," he continued.

  I took a shot, which was essentially their version of a glass of ale, and eyed him suspiciously. This was all too convenient.

  "They do things to us," he said somberly, "make us do things to each other."

  The wizard jumped in, "The gher are able to control the bodies of other species. They leave the senses intact, but the only thing one can control is the eyes."

  I choked back a bit of surprise. Was he serious?

  "They enjoy making us do the most terrible things," the gnome said practically in tears.

  I looked at Cloy, who only confirmed that he was speaking the truth. I then looked up and caught both the king's and queen's eyes. They were practically in tears as well.

  "A family was captured. The worst possible thing. They made the father do things to his daughter. The mother do things to her son. The brothers and sisters slice on each other. Pull parts from each other, while the parents helped," the man was no longer emotional. He had gone to that place of numbness where all warriors find solace—the place where pain no longer exists.

  "Why?" I blurted out. It was a stupid question. A naive question. I had seen the after-effects of an Aghan chastity mob. I knew that even humans were capable of the worst possible acts.

  The wizard spoke up again, "Some sages, myself included, posit that the gher gain malevolent energy from terror and pain."

  I looked to Cloy, and she shook her head in the negative.

  The wizard caught the expression, "A different theory?"

  Cloy didn't hesitate, "Some things in this world are made to be evil. To be that which challenges all living beings."

  The wizard scoffed, "Made? They weren't made. They developed from creatures beneath the ground, the same as we developed from creatures on the mountain."

  Snarf snickered and said, "Some developed, some are made."

  I eyed them both.

  Snarf shrugged and said, "You've three questions, ask them."

  Visions of Ghost Busters on top of a roof with the sexy chick from Aliens filled my mind. Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god.

  "Hundreds still lie beneath, held as prisoners," the man said, ignoring the conversation we were having.

  And there it was. The reason I was welcomed in like a king. The reason I had been treated so well. I sighed a little.

  Tears streamed down the queen's face.

  I had been played like a fiddle.

  My problem, my biggest problem is, I give two shits about people's little bullshit issues, but I will go to hell and back for something that I consider to be an injustice. Can't pay your rent and are about to get evicted, maybe you should have worked instead of drinking the weekend away. The local mobster is making you pay protection money? He's fucking dead.

  The king turned and looked at me, "Surely there is a hero amongst us who could fight these diabolical creatures."

  I don't know why he said something that sounded like he was addressing a crowd when he was obviously addressing me.

  "I am a hero, and don't call me Shirly," I said in my best Frank Drummond deadpan.

  There was a bit of confusion around the table as my joke fell flat.

  "Of course, I know a hero would never take payment for such a deed; however, we are not a kingdom of paupers. I would be indebted to you and would be willing to fund any projects within my kingdom. Even projects that exceed ten thousand," he said.

  I rolled my eyes so hard.

  I mean, the whole situation looked like it was going to work out for me, and I love killing evil things, Taliban, Commies, people who talk at movies, but it did feel kind of insulting to be manipulated.

  "Your highness, you have been a gracious host and a wonderful leader looking after your people's interests. I will, of course, accept this task or mission gladly. I just hope in the future you will trust me enough to ask me directly to do something," I said as tactfully as possible.

  I half expected the king to be insulted or taken aback, but he wasn't. He smiled and nodded.

  "I like you," he said while he waived Glory Beard over.

  The halfling champion went to a knee and said, "How may I serve the king?"

  "The kingdom will provide all necessary provisions and my Scoutmaster to the hero," the king said. "They will leave within two days to descend into the mines."

  "Your will be done," Glory Beard said, and then retook his place at the door.

  Chapter 18

  I upgraded my assault pack to an honest to goodness spelunking ruck that some master bag maker put together. Two hundred feet of rope, a light that never dimmed, and a butt load of food were just some of the great things that were in my pack.

  Cloy and Snarf both carried packs to fit their bodies as well.

  Snarf had become surprisingly amicable over the past few days as Cloy delved into frustration and anger.

  That didn't surprise me, because she was more interested in going to Teletha versus hanging out underground.

  What did
surprise me, however, was the fact that Arsch was the damn Scoutmaster.

  "Are you ready, My Dude?" Arsch asked.

  I nodded as we approached a heavy set of double doors made of pure iron. They stood eight feet in height and were just as wide. A large bar laid across the center. Several signs warned not just of the door swing danger, but the danger of what laid beyond the doors.

  Adjacent to the door was a gnome with a log taking notes.

  Glory Beard himself stood by as a guard, and with a stern look, kept all the curious bystanders at bay.

  "There is no greater honor than to fight for the innocent," he said, taking my hand. "Good fortune and good hunting."

  I could tell he wanted to go with me, but as Cloy had pointed out earlier, Glory Beard was the king's champion and could not leave the monarch.

  "Thank you," I said confidently.

  Glory Beard looked to the scribe and said, "Four to enter the mines, three months to return. A day past and they will be honored for their sacrifice."

  I looked at Glory Beard sideways.

  He remained stoic.

  The scribe nodded and called, "Watcher report!"

  A small, nimble gnome scurried up the gate and opened a well-camouflaged panel in the wall, that exposed a tunnel barely large enough for him to fit. Within a flash, he was gone, only to return a minute later.

  "All clear on the side," the watcher cried.

  "Open gate one!" the scribe yelled.

  The right door creaked and groaned as it slowly opened inward. The ponderous portal plodded pointedly.

  See what I did there? Alliteration, Miss Hokum would be proud.

  A tunnel black as pitch proceeded away from the gnomeland.

  I didn't wait long before I strode confidently towards the dark.

  Cheers erupted behind us, and I heard the crowd yell good luck, and thanks.

  We turned a corner, and everything went pitch black.

  "Time to turn on the lamps," Arsch said. I heard some rustling, and he softly spoke, "Licht du verdammtes ding."

  Light erupted from the small gnomes lamp, which allowed me a chance to light my own.

  Speaking the magic command phrase, "Licht du verdammtes ding," I illuminated my own magical lamp.

  Cloy and Snarf followed suit.

  The lights only put out about four candles worth of illumination, but our eyes quickly adjusted, and they seemed brighter than normal.

  I once went on the wild cave tour at Mammoth Cave. I swear I was in the exact same location. The ground was loose sand; the walls were a jagged mix of stalagmites and stalactites, and every now and then, I got a glimmer of something in the wall.

  "We're safe to talk for the next three days, but once we cross the Gnoricon River, we will be in enemy territory," Arsch said cheerfully.

  "Any helpful tips?" I said, not wanting the conversation to falter. I was in a good mood, and to be perfectly honest, I wanted to know everything there was to know about the caves.

  Arsch took a second to think about the question and then answered, "Everything down here can see in the dark. They don't need lights, so there is no point in turning off the lamps."

  "That is actually pretty helpful," I said. Light and noise discipline is huge in the infantry, and my first thought was to completely make the lamps go dark if we got near a bad guy.

  "If you get separated from the group, don't move. I'll come back and find you," Arsch added.

  "Good to know," I said, and then looked at Cloy and Snarf.

  "I don't get lost," Cloy said.

  I put my hands up and said, "Lookout, we got a real badass over here."

  Cloy started laughing uncontrollably. She bent over at the waist and held herself.

  Snarf, Arsch, and I stopped and stared.

  Snarf looked at me and said, "It wasn't that funny."

  I nodded in agreement. I wasn't sure if I should be insulted that she was mocking me, or maybe I genuinely struck her funny bone.

  "Real badass," she said, letting the laughter die.

  We all looked at her.

  She shrugged and started moving down the trail.

  After a long uncomfortable pause, I continued my line of questioning, "What else should I worry about?"

  "Your woman?" Arsch asked, obviously not afraid to be insulting.

  "You're telling me," I responded.

  "You have nothing to worry about," Cloy said flatly.

  Snarf added, "Nor from me."

  Arsch got a kick out of that, "No kidding shorty."

  Gnomes are like two feet tall, and I had the feeling Arsch enjoyed making fun of someone who was six inches shorter than him.

  Snarf ignored the insult and continued on unperturbed.

  "Don't eat glowing things," Arsch said. "Or bright things. Or things that smell sweet. In fact, don't eat anything unless I tell you its OK."

  "Noted," I said. "Things on Earth that glow or are bright are usually poisonous."

  "Same here," he said, and then asked, "Is that what you call your home, Earth?"

  "That's the planet or world I come from." I once tried to explain what a planet was to a bar wench I was trying to bag, and she looked at me like I was a demon or something.

  "Do they have caves?" he asked.

  "Yeah, but nothing really lives in them," I said.

  "Lucky for you," Arsch said, "The gher," he spat, "are a curse."

  Snarf chimed in, "Actually, that is true."

  "Really?" I asked.

  "Oh yes," Snarf said, "The gher were created as a curse against the dwarves and their hubris."

  "Another thing the dwarves should pay for," Arsch said.

  "Don't like dwarves, huh?" I asked.

  "Greedy, ugly, loud, and rude," Arsch said, listing the qualities of pretty much every dwarf I had ever encountered.

  "I figured you guys would love each other," I said.

  We came to a narrow space that was so tight I had to take off my ruck to get through. Cloy did the same, but both Snarf and Arsch just turned a little and scuttled through.

  "Nope," Arsch said, "We're more like you guys," he remarked, obviously indicating humans, "and dwarves are more like oraks."

  Cloy laughed a little, "Isn't that the truth."

  "Not a fan of dwarves, either?" I asked her.

  "I'm not a fan of oraks," she said, "At least dwarves only fight people who are willing. Oraks are just big assholes."

  She wasn't lying. Every orak I had ever met was just a big asshole waiting to fight, every single one of them. They were tolerated in Teletha because they made great bouncers, laborers, and thugs. They could be controlled, but it was hard.

  "Snarf," I said, getting the little guy's attention, "What exactly did you mean by the gher are a curse?"

  Happy to be part of the conversation, he replied, "The gher were sent down by Pantodynamos to punish the dwarves over a thousand generations ago."

  "I haven't heard of that god," I said, looking at Cloy, "Is it a dwarven one?"

  The Telethan's believed in Donker, Brykon, and Bolokbal. The three gods were like; I don't know, concepts of ideals. Donker was all about growth, Brykon was about justice or suffering, and Bolokbal was basically Hitler. Not in the arm raising, weird mustache wearing way, but in the whole fascist approach to everything way.

  Pretty much if someone followed Bolokbal, they were an asshole through and through. Of course, making fun of Bolokbal was a one way trip to being murdered by said follower. In fact, if you witnessed someone making fun of Bolokbal, and you yourself were a Bolokbal fanboy, you were required by the church to murder the person who passed said offense.

  Cloy just shook her head.

  Snarf responded, "There are two high gods. Gods that other gods fear. There are actually several tiers of gods, but the two that sit on top rule the universe and beyond."

  I found myself genuinely interested, it was the first time I had heard about the other gods, and Snarf was teaching in a neutral tone, not his usual condesce
nding voice.

  "And you guys are?" I said, pointing to Cloy and Snarf.

  "Is that a proper question?" Snarf asked, smiling.

  "Nope," I said. I was genuinely curious, but I didn't want to waste a question on something I kind of knew the answer to.

  Arsch looked over at me, confusion and little concern on his face.

  "To understand this, you have to understand how gods gain power," Snarf continued.

  Cloy kicked him slightly. She tried to hide the fact, but I saw it.

  "Actually it's not that important," Snarf said and then continued as if nothing had happened, "What is important is that there are lesser gods and higher gods. Then there are gods so high that they can bend the very fabric of reality to suit their needs."

  "That's how I got here?" I asked.

  "I assume so," Snarf said after looking at Cloy.

  "A fair assumption, I think," Cloy said.

  Arsch apparently had just realized what he had gotten himself into because the color started draining from his skin.

  Snarf continued, "Pantodynamos once favored the dwarves over all other species. He gave."

  Snarf was interrupted by Cloy, "And how do you know the god of gods is a he?"

  Snarf actually laughed a little, "Like Pantodynamos would condescend himself to wear the vestige of a female."

  And the arrogance was back.

  Cloy became stern and looked forward.

  I could swear I could feel the anger radiating from her.

  "As I said," Snarf said as if nothing had happened, "The dwarves were the favored of Pantodynamos. When they dug, they found wealth. When they sowed, they were rewarded with a bountiful harvest. In battle, they could not be bested," he said as if stating facts and not legend.

  "OK?" I said, indicating I was still paying attention, "But they got greedy?"

  "They thought themselves gods," Snarf said. "They built monuments to their kings and ancestors. Instead of worshipping their patron."

  "Pantodynamos doesn't want worship from mortals," Cloy interjected.

  Snarf shook his head in confusion, "What?"

  "The god of gods doesn't want mere mortals to worship it," Cloy corrected him.

  "Silly superstition," Snarf said, rejecting her statement.

  "Pantodynamos does not want mortals to worship it," Cloy said forcefully. "Pantodynamos only wants that from the gods. Mortals are too," she looked over at me. "Beneath it."