Of Gods & Grunts

by Kyrell Kendrick

  Elly quickly explained a plan to the squad, turned to me, and said, “Shoot the horseman first.”

  I wanted to protest that I was in charge damnit. I also wanted a Stryker with spinning rims, but that shit wasn’t going to happen.

  Shimone came down to the squad's location. The two archers fell back behind them about twenty paces, and the swordsman took position to the right. Shimone took the left flank and pulled out a big fucking knife from his pack. I love it when I’m right.

  Just as the archers were getting into position, Elly and Shinta ripped off their shirts, clutched their chests, and began running up the IV line screaming bloody murder. They kept looking behind them as if being chased.

  Shimone said, “King, you go archer!”

  Feeling like a fucking private, I obeyed and ran back to the archers, who already had five arrows stuck in the ground, and one knocked.

  Following suit, I placed my rifle at the low ready and rotated my selector to semi.

  The pair crested the IV line and then went out of sight.

  I could still hear them screaming but just barely. Five excruciating minutes went by before they crested the IV line again and ran full force straight for the squad.

  We were in combat, and Elly was a grown-ass woman, but I was still upset that everyone was checking her rack out. OK, maybe I’m a little jealous here, but in Alabama, women don’t run around topless. Also, between Shinta and Elly, I got the better deal.

  The women didn’t bother to put their shirts on; they just picked up their spears and prepared.

  Oraks can run the plains, as can horses. The biggest question was, did the pentagal and oraks leave the unigals behind?

  My question was answered almost immediately as the ten oraks crested the hill with a horse right behind them.

  Momentum carried the assholes too quickly, and they full-on came into arrow and bullet range immediately.

  I took aim at the stunned pentagal with my ACOG and squeezed the trigger. The first round missed. Hey, it's fucking hard hitting a man on horseback running full speed, so don’t be a Judge Judy. The second round impacted the square in his chest, and he collapsed off the animal.

  The two archers had already dispatched four oraks before the oraks were able to turn and run.

  I realized suddenly that the melee guys weren’t there to kill anyone, but were there to protect the archers.

  The oraks started to scramble back up the few meters to get out of arrow range, but it was too late. The three of us, myself and the two archers, easily dispatched the remaining six.

  I looked to my comrades.

  The archers were busy retrieving their arrows and began to move forward.

  The melee line began its assault up the hill. They spread out only a few feet but remained in a perfect line. I watched as they dispatched all the oraks without remorse.

  Only twenty seconds had passed since the douche crested the IV line.

  I followed the archers as they started to run behind the melee line.

  Elly and company crested the hill, and for a moment, I gasped. They were out of view, and I knew for a fact there were at least four more assholes on the other side.

  I rushed past the archers and sprinted to the crest.

  I made it just in time to see Elly put her spear through the neck of the last unigal.

  Chapter 40

  We stripped the bodies of anything useful.

  “Should we bury them?” Arsch asked.

  “In Afghanistan, we typically left the dead Taliban on the battlefield for the locals to bury them in their tradition.

  I looked at the humans and the oraks. I felt a little pity for them. Just moments before, they were walking, talking, breathing people.

  I did what I normally do, I took that empathy, and I pushed it to that spot in my mind, where I don’t look. “No,” I said, “Birds gotta eat, same as worms.”

  Arsch and Elly both gave me a horrified look.

  “These men would have raped and enslaved you. I have no sympathy.”

  Their look of horror didn’t leave, but they didn’t argue after that.

  “Shimone, lead the way if you please,” I said.

  Shimone understood. He grabbed his pack and continued on his previous heading.

  I grabbed Arsch and hoisted him to the horse. It was no Rover, but it wasn’t tiny. Arsch had difficulty straddling the saddle until he finally just turned sideways.

  I didn’t want to make a comment about side-saddle, and to be fair, I wasn’t sure those things even existed in Teletha.

  We continued south for another mile before Shimone sent up the halt signal again.

  My heart jumped to my throat. I worried the group we had killed was just a scout party.

  He waved us forward, and like before, Elly and I went to his position.

  Shimone pointed to the west and said, “Dust.”

  I brought up my M4 and looked. Sure enough, there was a small dust cloud, probably ten miles away.

  I followed the cloud down to the ground in an effort to determine what was making it.

  I saw a massive horse, that was difficult to make out, with a shiny, but small figure on its back.

  The horse was headed straight for us.

  I had to admit it was beautiful. The way it galloped was so perfect.

  I scanned the area. There was almost never a lone horseman unless he was a messenger.

  “What do you think, Shimone?” I asked, once again handing my M4 over to him.

  He peered through the ACOG and studied the approaching animal. After a minute, he said, “Rodadrian. Knight gnome ride.”

  I almost snatched the M4 out of his hands. I put the weapon to my shoulder and peered once more through the ACOG. I could make him out, an armored gnome with a bright red beard riding a Rover.

  “It’s Glory Beard!” I yelled and then turned back to Arsch, who was a few hundred meters away on his horse, “Come forward! He’s friendly!”

  Arsch may not have heard me, but he did see me waving. He kicked his horse and raced toward me.

  “Who is it?” Arsch asked.

  “Glory Beard!” I said.

  “Stroknair Battlehand?” Arsch asked, covering his eyes so he could get a better look.

  “And Rover!” I added.

  Shimone asked a question to Elly.

  Elly replied.

  “Everything good?” I asked.

  “He was asking if that is the champion of the king of Caramondon Hall,” Elly asked.

  Arsch answered, “Yes.”

  “I told him as much. The gnome has a reputation,” Elly said.

  “Good reputation?” I asked.

  “He has never been bested in combat. By elf, human, or dwarf,” Elly replied.

  “No, kidding?”

  Elly smiled. “He is a most welcome sight.”

  We continued to bullshit as we waited for Rover and Glory Beard to approach.

  As Rover got within a few hundred meters, he sped up.

  Glory Beard did his best to reign him in, but Rover ran straight to me.

  Within a few seconds, Rover was nudging me and rubbing against me.

  “I missed you too, dude!” I exclaimed, petting his neck and kissing his cheek.

  “My Dude,” Glory Beard saluted. “I am happy we were able to find you.”

  I looked up at him and stopped myself from laughing. Rover was one of the largest horses to ever exist, and while Glory Beard was a gnome among gnomes, he looked silly on the horse.

  “Glo,” I caught myself, “Stroknair Battlehand! It is great to see you!”

  I was about to ask him how he found us, but Glory Beard beat me to it. “His Highness Tooknar Diamandtooth sends his regards, and offers you command of the Gnome Recovery Force.”

  I looked at Elly and Arsch for their opinions. I needed to know if what he was offering was an empty offer or an alliance, or if he legitimately wanted me to control his force.

  Elly shrugged.

 
Arsch just smiled.

  I watched Glory Beard’s face for any reaction. “I would love to take command.”

  He smiled and hopped down from Rover. He then took a knee and said, “I relinquish command of the Gnome Recovery Force to My Dude, King of Teletha. I swear to follow his commands so much so as they do not violate my sacred oath to Tooknar Diamondtooth.”

  Apparently, everyone was expecting the pledge except me. I thought it was a little weird, but then again, change of command ceremonies are fucking weird if you have never seen one.

  “Uhh, thanks,” I said a little flatly.

  He stood up and clasped hands with Arsch. “It is great to see you once more, Scoutmaster.”

  “You too, Champion!”

  Elly walked over and started to pet Rover.

  Rover loved the attention and started to nuzzle Elly.

  “So, where is this army?” I asked.

  “Just over the horizon, My Dude,” Glory Beard responded.

  Glory Beard and Arsch shared the former pentagal’s horse. Rover walked on his own, as I felt it was too lazy to ride him while everyone else walked.

  We made it back to the GRF well before nightfall. The entire force was traveling in a column, headed straight to Teletha.

  They had roving pickets and good security.

  The force was divided into three parts, a vanguard, a rearguard, and a bunch of wagons drawn by various beasts of burden in the center.

  All of the wagons were empty.

  There were at least two hundred gnomes in total. I counted a couple of dozen with polearms, but the majority had axes and hammers. All but the polearm bearers had square shields that were curved at the corners.

  Glory Beard rode up to me, “My Dude, I have a special surprise for you.”

  “I like surprises,” I said.

  He led me to one of the wagons.

  The column was traveling at about three miles per hour, and we weren’t about to stop so I could look in the back of a wagon.

  I ran and jumped into the carriage Glory Beard had pointed out.

  In the back was a single strongbox that was banded in gold. It had gnomish script all over it. The script was written more like an inventory than anything.

  I opened it up and found something so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes.

  There were about a thousand rounds of five-point five-six by forty-five NATO ammo.

  “Fuck yeah!” I yelled.

  The two gnomes driving the wagon turned to look at me.

  Here’s a cool thing about gnomes, everyone single one of them speaks Telethan. They actually speak it better than most Telethans speak it—just a fun fact.

  Now you might think I instantly put the rounds in and gave it a shot. I did not. I had no idea if they would plug my barrel, explode my barrel, or what.

  The ammo was a backup, nothing more. I had confidence in the gnome's ability to replicate the ammo, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. I still had more than six full mags, so I was good for the time being.

  After a few hours, the GRF stopped, circled the wagons, and set up the modern army equivalent of a patrol base.

  While I was the commander of the GRF, Glory Beard did all the actual leading. It was just like with Lotash. I gave the general orders, and Glory Beard gave the actual commands.

  We circled the wagons and set a watch. The gnomes, unlike the elves, were less fluid in their approach to combat. They were regimented perfectionists. They were the type of army that would make the Third Infantry Division commander proud. I envisioned the gnomes wearing their DAPs and diapers with pride, all in compliance with the Marne Standard.

  It made me a little sick.

  Look, in my humble opinion, there are two types of soldiers. The first type is the one that has the best uniform, the best haircut, the cleanest weapon, both inside and out, and follows every standard with a loud and proud hooah.

  The second type of soldier could give two fucks about grooming standards. His weapon is clean enough to kill, but there is no way the arms rooms would accept it. His boots are clean enough, but not spit-shined. His uniform is passable. This type of soldier follows the standards that allow him to kill better.

  The first type of soldier is a cog in a massive war machine that can destroy anything in its path. That type of soldier, however, cannot operate without a leader guiding him. The second type of soldier is a killing machine on his own. He’s a cog in the big war machine, but he’s missing some teeth.

  I was the second type, the gnomes were all the first type.

  The gnomes as a whole were way more dangerous. The elves were the second type.

  In a large scale battle, I was sure the gnomes could destroy the elves. In an asymmetric battle, the elves would dominate.

  Once again, there was an awesome fire, and once again, we had food and some alcohol.

  The gnomes also provided music that reminded me of the inside of a beer tent at Oktoberfest.

  Glory Beard had a table brought for Elly and me, and then had his personal steward prepare our meals.

  “My Dude, would it be impertinent to ask to dine with you and your,” his voice cracked a little, “wife?”

  “You are always welcome at your table,” I said with a smile.

  Glory Beard laughed a little and took a seat. His chair was normal size for gnomes, while Elly and I sat on pillows.

  “So, what’s for dinner?” I asked. I didn’t want to seem awkward, and I figured I was a king, so normal social conventions be damned. I was going to talk to Glory Beard, like we were old friends.

  “If it pleases My Dude, I have asked my steward to prepare lamb cocoshirie with a djago sauce and pinonatas.

  I had no fucking clue what that meant, but it sounded awesome. I nodded with a smile.

  “That sounds delightful,” Elly noted.

  “I have also asked my sommelier to decant a Retgarten Brojauk.”

  Does Telethan translate French words too? Sommelier is French, but I guess it’s also English? Like how does that work?

  The steward came forward and poured a rich red wine into three emerald, like no shit emerald, chalices.

  “I find red and green to be a pleasing contrast.”

  “Very Christmassy.” Of course, the word didn’t translate. I didn’t offer a further explanation.

  Glory Beard stood, raised his carved emerald full of wine that was no doubt expensive, and said, “To His Highness Tornuk Diamondtooth.”

  “To Tornuck Diamondtooth,” I said, standing and holding the toast.

  Elly did the same, and we all drank a little.

  The wine was pretty fucking good.

  We sat back down, and the steward served us.

  Not gonna lie; being a king is pretty awesome. The food we ate was amazing. The wine we drank was amazing. The company wasn’t prone to being fucking retarded.

  We ate the food in relative silence. I commented numerous times on how delicious the spread was. Elly agreed.

  Once we had our fill and declined seconds, Glory Beard had the crockery removed and replaced with a map.

  Minutes later, I was explaining our original plan and looked to him for input.

  From what I understood, Lotash and Sykon were capable battle commanders, but Glory Beard was a fucking legend. It was like comparing Jimmy Doolittle to Patton. Doolittle was a fucking legend and a master tactician. Patton was a Patton.

  Glory Beard nodded.

  “I would be honored if you gave me some insight,” I said slowly and then went full fuck it. “Just tell me how to best use your forces, rescue the gnomes and others, and kill The Voice!”

  He was taken aback by my sudden frankness.

  “My Dude, I will always offer my counsel when requested, and often when not.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Elly was holding back a laugh. The masterful Stroknair Battlehand looked mildly embarrassed.

  “That being said,” Glory Beard started, “your plan is good. I see no issue w
ith it. In fact, with the addition of my gnomes, I think our chances of success are very high.”

  “Don’t celebrate yet,” Cloy said from behind me.

  I turned around to see the goddess standing behind us, “Where the fuck did you come from.”

  She ignored the question and walked forward.

  “Your Divinity,” Glory Beard said, bowing.

  “I have information,” she said.

  “OK?” I asked.

  She hovered over a map of the city of Teletha. “They know you are coming. They have set up ambushes here, here, and here.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to give us information?” I said.

  “Balance disciple. It’s always about balance. When a god shares information, then other gods opposed to that god may do so, two for one.”

  “Two for one?” I asked.

  Cloy gave me a wink.

  “OK, so that means a god gave our adversary information that they thought was valuable enough for you to give us two bits of information?”

  “This is why I named you my disciple.”

  “Do you have a second bit of information?” I asked.

  “I really don’t,” she said. “I just keep thinking about Brykon and how sad it is to suffer.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I asked.

  She disappeared again. Not like I turned, and she disappeared. She just poofed.

  “That was weird,” Elly said.

  “What does she mean about Brykon?” Glory Beard asked.

  “I really don’t know,” I said.

  Chapter 41

  The great thing about having a real regimented army is that they take very nice tents. They were also expecting me, which means the king lent me one of his tents.

  The ceiling was a little low, only six and a half feet or so, but I could still stand up straight.

  Breakfast was prepared for us by Glory Beards steward, but instead of eating at the table, we ate it on the road. It was flatbread with eggs and potatoes.

  I turned mine into a weird gnomish taco.

  After some beckoning from Glory Beard and some nudging by Rover, I decided to ride my horse for the remainder of the journey.