The Circle: The Uniting

by N.D. Bailey

  Having searched for three days with no luck, the Circle of Riders entered a nearby town called Meznos in the far south of Shalahem. Tired and hungry, they found a local pub where they could eat some supper. Gilgore couldn’t get through the narrow door, so he had to sit outside, the pub itself being too small for him.

  “The whole dang world is too small,” complained Gilgore. He was disappointed that he couldn’t go inside with his friends.

  The others walked into the smoke-filled pub, dimly lit and crowded with patrons. They pushed three tables together at the back of the bar. Vandorf, Windsor and Gilmanza saw some friends of theirs and spoke to them briefly; then, they sat down with the others. The pub was noisy; people were talking and laughing, some getting boisterous from too much booze. A couple of men were arm- wrestling at one side of the room.

  Skeener ordered a beer and immediately guzzled it. Windsor watched with concern and gave a disapproving glare. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a drunk.

  The riders had just gotten their food and were about to dig in when Navi caught the glimpse of a man, his back side resembling Pip. Throwing the chicken leg he held in his hand onto his plate, he said, “There’s Pip.” He jumped out of his seat and rushed out the door, the riders following behind him. Binko grabbed a piece of grilled antelope on the way out, while Zilgar and Zorgar each grabbed a lizard meatball.

  “Why is it when I hang out with Windsor, Navi and Nuvatian my meals always get interrupted?” Zilgar grumbled as he talked with his mouth full.

  “I was wondering the same thing.” Zorgar shoved the meatball into his mouth.

  Navi ran out the door, and spotted him, a glimpse of that wavy red hair as he darted around the building with his head held down. He ran and jumped on the man, knocking him to the ground and landing on top of him. Stunned, the man yelled and whopped Navi in the head with a skillet he had in his hands, knocking him nearly senseless. Cooked food flew out of the pan and Navi’s new purple hat folded in half and fell in the dirt. The wizard rolled off the man and to the ground, landing onto his back. He was only semi-conscious. The man reared his foot back and kicked him in the gut.

  Gilgore stood there stupidly for a moment, confused as to what was going on. Just as the little man was about to hit Navi in the head again, he looked up and nearly trembled at the sight of the giant standing over him. Gilgore grabbed the man with his bare hand, wrapping it around his neck and head. Just in the nick of time, the other riders appeared around the corner.

  The man began to shake and nearly started to cry. “Please don’t hurt me, I’m just the cook! I was takin’ this food out to a cat and her kittens that are in the hay around the corner. If it’s food you want, I will cook whatevah you want. Whatevah you want, I’ll give it to you.”

  “Everything’s okay.” Windsor spoke calmly, defusing the situation. “Gilgore, don’t hurt the man!”

  Vandorf stepped forward to help the man up. “My apologies,” he offered, “Our friend thought you were someone else!”

  “Well, he should try being sure before he attacks someone,” said the cook, dusting himself off.

  “He’s crazy!” Ozni spoke up, circling his finger around Navi’s head. “He’s just bloody crazy, and we have to keep a close watch on him. We apologize. He just got away from us. Things just don’t turn right up here, you know.”

  “Crazy? You can say that again. Try putting him on a leash!” The man stared at Navi’s wild hair and drew further conclusions.

  “Yes, Sir; we’ll give that a try, Sir,” Windsor said. It appeared they had managed to appease the cook without further conflict.

  They couldn’t help but laugh at the whipped wizard. Starry-eyed and dazed, Navi gripped his head, stammering insensible words.

  “Maybe that knocked some sense into him. Probably just what he needed,” Ozni said, laughing.

  “You said something about some kittens,” inquired Gilgore.

  “Yuh, in the hay in those stalls.”

  “Can I see them?” Windsor rolled his eyes at his friend.

  “Well, you’re not going to hurt them, are you?” The cook was still wary. “I heard stories about you giants, biting heads off of goats and all kinds of stuff. I’ll cook you whatevah you want, but please don’t hurt the kittens and their mothah.”

  Gilgore opened his big mouth, showing his teeth, and roared.

  The cook took one look at him, dropped his skillet and ran back inside.

  “Stupid people. Where do such tall tales come from?” Evil stories about the giants angered Gilgore. He walked around back to a pile of hay, sat on the ground and held a single tiny kitten in the palm of one gigantic hand. Before long, all the little kittens were crawling all over him. Gilgore giggled, playing with them like a little child.