Of Gods & Grunts

by Kyrell Kendrick

  "Shit," I said softly.

  "How long was I captured for?" Arsch asked.

  "Not that long," I replied, and then asked, "Did we go up?" I asked, and then clarified, "In the cave?"

  "Nothing but down," Arsch said.

  "Donker's dick, it's cold," I whined.

  We both stared in horror at the approaching light.

  Fog began to form on the surface of the water as we approached the exit.

  "Bob," I said, trying to remain calm, "Go straight for the shore," I said, and then my body was taken over with a wet cough.

  "K," came Bob's reply.

  "Arsch," I could finally see his outline, "We need to build a fire with whatever we can find."

  "Yes, My Dude," he said, holding his arms around himself.

  "Bob, are you OK?" I asked.

  "Nose and belly cold," Bob said.

  "Arsch, should we try to get some others on Bob?" I asked.

  "He won't let them," Arsch replied.

  "No more," Bob said.

  I should have realized Arsch would have tried to get the others on Bob.

  "Listen, everyone," I shouted, and then immediately went into a coughing fit. After I recovered, I yelled, "We are going to the right, immediately after the cave. Swim to the right. If, for some reason, the right side is blocked, swim to the opposite side."

  I received a litany of responses, most giving agreement, and to my pleasant surprise, none of them argued.

  I tried to find the direction Bob was headed and realized he was going headfirst.

  "Bob," I said, looking him in the eyes, "Go that way," I said, pointing to the starboard. See, I can be a seaman!

  Bob nodded.

  We floated past the entrance and were met with an even colder gust.

  "Belly cold," Bob said.

  "I'm sorry, buddy," I said, putting my hands under my plate carrier.

  "Shore now?" he asked.

  "Yes," I replied. Any drowsiness I had was replaced by the harsh, biting cold.

  Michael Phelps ain't got shit on Bob. That dude can swim.

  We made it to shore in no time.

  I picked up Arsch, tossed him on my shoulder, and exited Bob. My boots got wet, but that was it.

  Once away from the water, we could finally see something. The sky was blue with wispy white clouds, high in the stratosphere.

  We were in a large pine forest, and to my utter surprise, there was no snow on the ground.

  Arsch ran off to get some wood and kindling, and I started calling out from the shoreline to attract the other escapees. I heard more than one splash approaching the shoreline, and I rushed out to help.

  They were exhausted. The dwarves, gnomes, and others who were not fortunate enough to ride a Bob - are we not saying phrasing anymore - down the river.

  Bob, my fucking hero, started pulling the others towards the shoreline.

  I turned around and saw that Arsch had a fire the size of my fist going and was slowly adding wood to it.

  Arsch, Bob, and I were the only non-exhausted escapees, and we had a moral obligation to help others.

  I walked toward the forest and searched for logs that I could carry. Within minutes I had collected a substantial amount of wood, and the fire had attracted at least three dozen refugees. We were still missing many more.

  It took two hours to gather the remaining survivors and set four more fires. Unfortunately, there was no way to determine if we had rescued everyone.

  Arsch and I walked around asked the others if they were missing anyone, but no one claimed that they had.

  We had a ragtag group, now that I could see them. The largest, of course, was Bob, but we had forty-two gnomes, twenty-four dwarves, fifteen goblins, and something that Arsch called a chipixa.

  I was also happy to find out that the dwarf I first rescued, a guy by the name of Starny Ironnose, had made it.

  The chipixa was as small as Bob was large. She looked like a perfect homunculus --thank you Big Bang Theory for that word-- and stood only a foot tall.

  Her skin was pale white, and she had hair that looked like thin glass noodles. She was not attractive, I guess. Like you know how Tinkerbell is hot, even though she's tiny? The chipixa looked like a homely old mom with butterfly wings. Her name was Chibushka, and even though she was like a foot tall, she commanded respect.

  The refugees had floated for almost three days, I figured and needed food more than anything. Even though we had fires going, hypothermia was a real threat. The guys needed to be fed.

  I fucking love Bob. Not in that way, you pervert, but in the way that a homosexual man loves another homosexual man.

  Bob brought up so many catfish and trout from the bottom of the lake, we were able to feed everyone.

  I became concerned that we were annihilating an ecosystem, but Bob kept telling me that there were thousands of fish below.

  It took us a day to recover. People meandered about when they were awake, but mostly just slept, ate, and relieved themselves in the woods.

  Bob, Arsch, Chibushka, and I foraged the woods. Chibushka had hitched a ride on the top of a dwarf and was as fresh as our rafting trio.

  "What is the plan, young man?" Chibushka asked me.

  It was weird being called a young man by a creature one-sixth my height, but I had to admit she looked older than me. "Survive for the next few days, until we get our strength up," I said, and then dropped into a coughing fit.

  She laughed, "The others might, but you seem to be hosting an infection in your lungs."

  "Fucking freeloaders," I said.

  "That's a strange word you use, young man," she said. "I assume it is a curse or profanity?"

  I was taken aback, "Umm, yes, ma'am?" I replied. A picture of my Mimi came to mind.

  "And that's how you usually speak around your elders?" she asked.

  I was embarrassed. I should have respected her more.

  "Not normally, ma'am," I replied.

  She ignored my comment and fluttered forward to point out some mushrooms. "Pluck those, remove the caps with a knife. Wash the stems in water, and swallow them whole, once per day."

  I did as I was told. You don't argue with Mimi.

  She smiled a motherly smile. "Not having a plan is a mistake," she said. "Surviving is not a plan, it is just delaying the inevitable."

  "OK," I said, counting the stems I just retrieved.

  "Surviving is what we did when we had the puppet masters controlling us," she said. "We had no spirit, no will, and no hope."

  I remained silent. She was going somewhere with the lesson.

  "For rescuing us, me, from that hell, I thank you," she said proudly.

  "You're welcome," I responded sheepishly. I never got used to praise.

  "I will assist you from now until I feel our debt has been repaid," she said matter of factly.

  "OK." I would have argued that it wasn't necessary, but she didn't seem to be the type that you could do that with.

  "Good," she said, "First we get you better. A sick leader serves no purpose."

  As if on cue, I started to cough uncontrollably.

  "Try to not cough in front of the refugees," she said.

  I recovered finally and looked at her with an are you fucking kidding expression.

  "Coughing shows weakness. Not weakness of character, but weakness nonetheless. Simple minds will view weakness of health as weakness of character. We cannot afford any division of leadership now," she educated me.

  "So, I'm the leader then?" I said, confirming my status.

  "You are singular, the only human, the man who rescued us, the man who risked his life, the man who gave guidance and provided hope. If you are not our leader, then you are a lucky incompetent," she once again educated me.

  Not gonna lie; I kinda liked Chibushka. "OK, try not to cough. No promises though," I said,

  "No more profanity either," she said.

  I contemplated that request. I'm not sure I can communicate without four-lett
er words. In fact, we once had this post-deployment party when I was a team leader. We had just returned from Iraq and had a company mandatory fun day. All of the families were invited. My fire team and a couple of others were playing Three Dot, which is a hacky sack game where once you touch the sack three times, a person gets to grab it and throw it at someone else. Anyway, this beautiful little girl, who must have been like six, came to see what we were doing. Literally, none of us said a thing. We couldn't talk. Fifteen months in Iraq, surrounded by nothing but fellow asshole grunts, made us too stupid to communicate with the general populace. When something so innocent walked near us, we shut the fuck up. We had no idea whose daughter she was, and it didn't matter.

  "No profanity among the dignified," I said in my most dignified voice.

  "A reasonable response," she said.

  I stood up straighter and started back towards the lake to wash off my mushroom stems.

  "May I ask you a question?" I asked.

  "A leader, especially one of your stature, does not ask permission," she chastised me.

  I was pretty sure she said I was in charge, but for the life of me, I could tell that I still had to answer to her. I was about to say sorry, but I thought better of it.

  "What did you do," I started and then revised my question, "What was your position before you were captured by the squidheads?" I asked.

  "Does it matter?" she replied, "Is my council false? Is it unwelcome?"

  I pondered for like half a second before responding, "No."

  "Then, such questions serve no purpose but to delay the task at hand."

  I finally made it to the water. I kneeled down and washed the stems in the cold lake water.

  "One stem now. Then one again tomorrow at the same time," she commanded.

  I did as I was told.

  "Now then, my Lord Emperor, go lay near a fire and warm yourself," she said.

  If I weren't feeling the almost immediate effects of the magic shroom I had just taken, I would be mildly annoyed at the affectation.

  I stumbled over to the campfire, went to my knees, and within moments, I started to pass out.

  "Quickly," Chibushka said, "Disarm him, and remove his armor!"

  Chapter 25

  I woke up on the softest bed I had ever slept on, and yes, that includes Bobs. A harp played a gentle melody, and my head rested on a fluffy cloud.

  I rolled over on to my side and was hit by an instant wave of nausea, followed by exorcist level vomiting.

  The harp music stopped, and I immediately felt morose.

  "Tichika taru," said a voice.

  A second later, the harp began to play again.

  I immediately felt better.

  I sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I was completely naked, groggy, and dizzy.

  I looked around and immediately noticed I was not alone. Two armored humanoids, each at about five feet tall, stood by a doorway. Their armor was green and shiny, like a Christmas ornament, and resembled metallic leaves. They each had a spear.

  Standing with his hands clasped in front of him was a male elf with long black hair, almond skin, and a confident stoic posture. He was in bright blue robes braided with gold.

  In the corner, a female elf, with dark brown skin and black hair, plucked away at a magnificent wooden harp. She wore a forest green dress that accentuated her curves quite nicely.

  I was naked and began to cover myself.

  "A prisoner," the man in the robes said in a haughty accent, "has no title, no freedom, and no need for shame."

  I looked at him with a confused gaze. "I'm your prisoner?"

  "For now," he said, walking towards me.

  I had a hundred questions I wanted to ask, but the only thing I was able to get out was, "Why?"

  "You are a human from the city of Teletha," he replied as it was obvious.

  I tried to process the information, but I was having difficulty. Were humans at war with the elves? "What?" I spurted out with perfect elocution.

  "Which part did you fail to understand?" he said, still standing over me.

  "Why are humans automatically prisoners?" I asked, rubbing my head. Every note of the harp hit me like a little wave of relief.

  "Oh, I see," he said, "You are ignorant of current events?"

  I just nodded, hoping he would stop talking down to me and start explaining.

  "The grand human city of Teletha has declared war on all the inferior races," he said, highlighting the word inferior. "As such, we are obligated by our honor to hold you as a prisoner."

  "Lucky me," I said.

  He picked up on the sarcasm and explained, "Most warriors of Bolokbal would have begged to be executed on the battlefield. We, of course, would have happily obliged, but you were unconscious, and the rules are the rules."

  "Fuck Bolokbal," I said.

  "Hmm," the elf said. He then sat down next to me. "My name is Sykon Autumnleaf, and I am your advocate."

  I thought about this for a moment. My first question was going to be where my stuff was, but I figured that was a stupid question. I decided instead of a question, I would be polite. "My name is Kevin."

  Sykon nodded, "You have already impressed me human, I hope this trend continues."

  I really wanted to make a smart ass remark and knock the elf down a peg or two, but making enemies when I was so totally boned, was probably not the best course of action. Also, I was in the army for a few years, I knew how to keep my mouth shut.

  "Can I get some clothes?" I asked, glancing at the harpist.

  Sykon followed my gaze and said, "Some clothing will be brought to you, but I will warn you, prisoners are not permitted boots or gloves. You will also be required to wear a manyak."

  The look on my face showed him that I didn't understand.

  "A special collar that can render you paralyzed at a single word," he explained.

  I thought I would be upset at the idea of wearing a collar, but I wasn't. I was at the mercy of the elves, and the best way to get my gear back, and maybe rescue my friends, was to play nice.

  The harpist continued her soothing melody.

  "My friends?" I asked, turning to look at him. I needed to see his reaction.

  "All of them except the cave troll are alive, fed, and being cared for," he said.

  I narrowed my eyes if that had killed Bob.

  Almost as if reading my thoughts, he said, "Your friend is swimming free in the lake."

  I laid back into my mattress and closed my eyes. For a moment, I didn't care what happened to me. The refugees were safe.

  "Wait, you said advocate," I said, sitting up. "Is there going to be a trial?"

  "Yes," he said, "Good job."

  I did my best not to roll my eyes. "What am I on trial for? I mean, I am a human, and I came from Teletha."

  "Your friends claim you are not a servant of Bolokbal, and the statement was vouched for by a member of a respected court."

  I figured Arsch would go to bat for me. It was good to have friends again. "So, what do I need to prove?"

  "Normally, your guilt was decreed by the King of the Forest, when he issued his proclamation. As I said, a member of a respected court has challenged that notion. Therefore, you must prove that you are not a follower of Bolokbal," he informed me.

  "Not big on the whole innocent until proven guilty, huh?" I said.

  He looked at me with a little intrigue, "Are you a sage of justice?"

  Thinking back to my sophomore civics class in Opelika, I said, "In Teletha, I would be considered a master scholar."

  "Well, this certainly changes things," he said, "I assumed, based on the testimony of your gnome friend, that you were a great warrior."

  "Why not both?" I asked.

  He contemplated this for a moment and said, "Hmm, yes, I see. Thundersound the Just was a noble warrior, and an ardent adjudicator."

  "Just like him," I said.

  "Her," he corrected me.

  The wav
es of sound continued to pulse over me, soothing my aches and pains. I also noted that I hadn't had a coughing fit since I awoke.

  I looked over at the harpist, "Why is that music so…" I had no idea how to finish the idea. Soothing didn't seem to fit; it wasn't some Google Home playing crashing wave sounds.

  "She is a healer, and that is the Katawa Natam, the Harp of Harmony in your tongue," he said.

  "Thank you," I said honestly.

  "A member of a respected court has vouched for you," he said, "We are obliged by honor to ensure you are capable of standing trial."

  I pondered on that for a moment and then had to ask, "If I fail to prove my innocence, then what is my punishment?"

  "Since a member of a respected court has vouched for you, then you would be sentenced to house arrest for the remainder of your days," he said.

  "So, this would be my cell?" I asked.

  "It would," he replied.

  "And if I prove my innocence?" I asked.

  "All of your items would be returned to you, and you would be granted free passage as an honored peer of the wood," he replied. He betrayed no emotion as to which outcome he preferred.

  "Will I be allowed to call witnesses? Have people vouch for my character?" I asked.

  He smiled, obviously happy that a fellow legal beagle knew the law talk. "In a royal tribunal we," he emphasized we, "are limited to three witnesses. This is to ensure that we are not wasting the time of the king, nor the high adjudicator."

  "OK," I said, a plan formulating in my mind. "Anything else I need to know?"

  "Humans," he said, opening his palms towards me, "can be brash and emotional. Those behaviors will not aid you. On the contrary, they will show that you are an animal, incapable of true thought or reason."

  "Don't lose my temper then?" I asked.

  "Nor should you show remorse, pleasure, or any other emotion. Emotions in the court would be akin to wearing armor at a ball in Teletha," he said.

  Fucks sake, the humans of Teletha were a lot of emotion, the elves of, wherever the fuck I was, seemed to be made of those guys from Star Trek; Volcanoes or whatever Spock was.

  The Z monster suddenly jumped on my back and started beating the shit out of me. I yawned a huge yawn.