Witches Be Crazy, page 21
On that, Captain Nobeard, the fearless captain of what remained of the mighty Polina, shoved off the beach and, with several mighty oar strokes, drifted off into the sunrise.
For the first time during his entire adventure, Dungar was truly on his own. His newfound independence, despite being somewhat daunting, actually felt quite comfortable to him. The decisions now fell to him, such as what route to take and pretty much nothing else. As he trudged up the hill and into the forest, he lamented to himself how overrated the concept of being the leader was if there was no one but one’s self on the journey. Fortunately, his isolation was eliminated almost immediately when he reached the crest of the hill and found himself face to face with a crowd of identically dressed individuals.
As the twig underneath Dungar’s foot snapped, all heads in the congregation turned and faced him. Everyone in the crowd sported a blood red robe and wore it with the hood up. In the center of the group was a large stone statue of some sort of angry looking theological creature that they appeared to be worshipping. Everyone was still for a few moments during the stare down before the mass of individuals stood up and turned to face Dungar.
“Uh …” Dungar began uncertainly. “I don’t suppose you lot are one of them friendly groups of cultists?”
“Jum, Jum, Jum, Jum!” The group began to chant in deep voices.
“Uh … I don’t suppose that means yes?”
“Jum! Jum! Jum! Jum!”
“Didn’t think so.”
The blacksmith was helpless as the horde rushed towards him, his strong arms futile against the combined might of the crowd. His struggles and kicks did little to impede his kidnapping.
“Gahhhhh!” Dungar yelled as he attempted to fight off his abductors. “Doesn’t anyone in this bloody land have the decency to just leave travelers unmolested!?”
His protestations fell upon deaf ears as he was pulled away by the group. His feet dragged limply against the ground as he was hauled off to yet another unknown destination. He elected to no offer resistance this time, deciding he’d rather save his strength to crack skulls as soon as someone was foolish enough to let go of him.
None of the cultists seemed to pay him much mind. They all just marched purposefully forward, continuing their “Jum! Jum! Jum!” chant. Their feet hit the ground in unison as their robes flapped behind them. Dungar hoped against hope that it wasn’t some more ridiculous magic business. He’d certainly dealt with enough of that lately.
They reached the crest of the hill they were scaling to find a small clearing filled with tents surrounding a large tree. In the tree was a shack of sorts that appeared to have been hastily built. Dungar was forced to his knees in front of it as the chants changed to “Immolate! Immolate! Immolate!”
Suddenly magic didn’t seem like an inferior course of action.
Immediately a robed figure emerged from the tree house and hurried down a convenient sliding pole. The golden embroidery on his similar red robes and his prestigious abode indicated he was likely some sort of authority among these people. The chanting stopped and a hush fell over the congregation as their leader made his descent. Soon as his feet touched the ground, the man bustled over towards Dungar and the group.
“Hello, gents! Much as I have assured you I appreciate your delightful sentiments, you really don’t need to kill every passer-by that we encounter!”
The cult leader’s loud and cheerful voice alone would have been enough to arouse Dungar’s suspicions, but the familiar uncharacteristically posh accent left little doubt in his mind. He tilted his neck upwards to find himself face to face with the patchy black goatee and beady brown eyes of his deceased sidekick.
“Oh hello, Mista Dungar! Fancy meeting you here, mate.”
As was often the case when dealing with Jimminy Appaya, Dungar had no words. There were so many questions and so many conflicting emotions welling up in his throat, but so few ways to verbally convey them.
“WHAT?!?!—” was the best he could manage.
Immediately one of the cultists smacked him over the head.
“Speak only when spoken to!”
“He was speaking to me!”
The cultist slapped him again.
“I said speak only when spoken to!”
“… but you just spoke to me!!”
The same cultist backhanded him yet again then leaned in close.
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
Dungar looked helplessly back at Jimminy who was failing to stifle his giggling underneath his hood.
“Alright, mate, that’s enough. You can leave him with me and get back to your culty business.”
In an instant, Dungar was dropped to the ground and the entire herd of cultists set off back towards the statue as if nothing had happened. He growled under his breath as he got to his feet and watched the robed men unapologetically leave. But Jimminy was much more important now. The man who he had seen die before his very eyes now stood before him as solid and whimsical as ever.
“Erm. Wot are you looking at, mate?”
“What do you think I’m looking at!?!? You’re dead!”
“Oh my god, I am?! Does that mean you are too? Is this the afterlife? A lot more servants than I would have reckoned to expect …”
Well if it wasn’t Jimminy then it was certainly a convincing impression. Dungar still couldn’t believe it. He had Jimminy back. The bumbling idiot had somehow resurrected himself and came back to him. Foreign feelings of relief and gratitude floated through his mind. He could feel the uncomfortable desire to hug the fellow, or shake his hand, or at least crack a bloody genuine smile.
“Just when I thought I was rid of ya.” Dungar grunted with a slight frown. “I suppose you still want to come along.”
Jimminy laughed as he followed Dungar northward. “I’m like herpes, mate. I may go away for a while, but you’re never rid of me!”
Dungar did not respond. He just walked in silence for a few minutes hoping that Jimminy would take it upon himself to explain, well, everything. Unfortunately his cohort did not seem to consider any explanation necessary. When the man spoke it was to simply address his usual random thoughts. However rather than sigh or silence him, Dungar found himself quite content to take part in the small talk session.
“Those blokes seemed rather fond of me, I wonder if I should have at least said goodbye or something. Perhaps farewell, it seems more formal. Though, they didn’t seem to have a particular affinity for formalities. Come to think of it, all they really seemed to care for was lighting blokes on fire. Boy, what an awful way to go that would be, eh? I meself was engulfed in flames once. Don’t worry though, mate, I lived. I was rather thoroughly barbecued though. Slap some sauce on me and I reckon I woulda been delicious! You hungry, Mista Dungar?”
“Uh. Yeah, I suppose I could eat.”
“I’d think so, big fella like you and all! Blimey, look at ya. Bet you put food away like a redbear! Curious creatures they are, redbears. I remember the first time I saw one I was all like ‘whoa! That looks nothing like how I pictured it!’ Right? I mean you’d think with the name redbear they’d be more … Ah wot am I even saying, you know what a redbear looks like. I’m a bit hungry too, mate. Those blokes loved their food stockpile, but all they ate was raw birdies. Wot kinda meal would you go for if you had a pick?”
“Hmm.” Dungar grumbled as he briefly pondered the question. “Well, I suppose it’s been awhile since I’ve had a good venison—”
“Deer meat eh! Have yourself quite the refined palette don’tcha? I tangled with the stuff once, didn’t work out well. I was laid up in the infirmary for weeks!”
“Huh, is that right? It give you a parasite or something?”
“Well no. It beat me up and kicked me down a hill. They’re some vicious buggers!”
They both laughed at that as they kept walking. The already thin forest was beginning to completely dissipate as the cultist compound disappeared behind them and out of view, yet Jimminy continued to wear the robes he was outfitted in.
“Why are you still wearing that thing?” Dungar asked him.
“It’s called a diro, mate. Big shot blokes of the Dynamism religion are supposed to wear em. Er, I’m also totally naked underneath.”
“Wait. You’re religious?”
“Well, not particularly. But I woke up in their wee compound completely nude sometime last night and they put these robes on me and started calling me ‘messiah,’ whatever that means! Anyway, once you get used to them, they’re quite nice company. They built me that adorable tree house, lit every poor sod we came across on fire, then you showed up! Hello!”
“Messiah … Jimmy, they think you’re some sort of manifestation of their god!”
“Oh nonsense. They worship some horned guy named Dynam. There was a statue of him around there somewhere.”
“It explains everything though.” Dungar insisted. “Well, except how you ended up there in the first place. But they gave you fancy clothes and built you a bloody house, Jimmy. Why would they do that?”
“Well. Perhaps they’re gracious and accommodating to weary travelers?”
Dungar stared at him blankly.
“When they found me they kidnapped me and tried to light me on fire on your behalf!”
“Perhaps you need to work on your first impressions, mate?”
“JIMMY!!!”
Things went quiet for a moment as Jimminy took a moment to actually ponder Dungar’s claims. Surely even he could figure out there was something quite off about his situation.
The two men had finally cleared the sparse forest and had emerged into an immense hilly field stretching far into the distance. The bright blue cloudless sky contrasted beautifully with the verdant countryside. Copious rocky outcroppings jutted from the lush green grass and exotic flora that painted the ground vibrant colors as a cool breeze blew what almost sounded like music through the rocky formations. As Dungar took it all in, Jimminy appeared to have reached a conclusion to his conundrum.
“You know, now that you mention it, mate, there was that weird business when I was in the service.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, while I was in Nom I got mixed up with some rather shady characters if you will. Me and some of me mates went out one night and got throshed and sloshed. Long story short, while we were out on the town, some snooker loopy looking gent offered me three coppers to hang onto some demon soul thingy or whatever for him while he cleaned its jar or something. It’s all a bit fuzzy, really. But I assure you it was nothing, mate. I do remember that there wasn’t even anything in the jar. Easy three coppers for me!”
Dungar opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it and looked away instead. He realized he wasn’t too sure what to believe. He couldn’t decide which was a more ridiculous notion: Jimminy leaving that exchange completely unscathed, or Jimminy being possessed by evil spirits and not even knowing it.
“Er, Mista Dungar, could you perhaps grant me a favor?” Jimminy asked, snapping the blacksmith out of his train of thought.
“Will it involve getting us almost killed?”
“Most likely not.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I was hoping we could make a quick pit stop before making our final push into Jenair. I’m sure your missus can wait a little while longer.”
“You want to make a pit stop? Where? For what?”
“Well, you see, mate, there’s a little town just a teeny tad bit out of the way.” Jimminy explained as he gazed into its direction. Then he turned back to Dungar, eyes gleaming. “It’s the residence of me one that got away.”
TWENTY
Womenfestation
It had been a long and twisted journey. Dungar had seen many sights that he could have never even fathomed. From dodging enormous snakes to escaping fire breathing cats to going on a voyage with a band of gay pirates, he had found himself enriched with all the wondrous sights and experiences that had lay beyond his comfortable home his entire life. But, even with his freshly opened mind, he could not even begin to envision the kind of woman that Jimminy would covet.
He had also never really considered his faithful sidekick in that light either. Thinking back to when they first met Herrow, Dungar didn’t really notice any changes in the man’s behavior. Even in the presence of a beautiful woman he continued with his shamelessly nonsensical ways without so much as an attempt to impress. This lady that he had waiting wherever they were going must be quite a catch.
“Just remember we’re on a schedule, Jimmy.” Dungar reminded him as they strode through the rainbow meadow. “We can’t stay long.”
“Of course, mate! I just wanted to say me hellos. Blimey it’s been so long since I’ve seen me beloved. I hope she’s well.”
Dungar couldn’t resist. He was too curious. “What did you mean by she got away?”
Jimminy sighed and stayed quiet for a few moments before responding. “A guy like me couldn’t hang on to a woman like that, mate. How could a bloke like meself possibly contend with the hordes of fellows who wanted her? She would remind me all the time too just how lucky I was to have her too. Every day she’d come home to me over all the other mates she had pawing at her. Silly me had to blow it all. I hope she can forgive me.”
“That’s … actually kinda sad, Jimmy.”
“Ah like I said, mate, it’s me own fault. Couldn’t expect a lady like her to stay with a man who wasn’t good ’nuff for her. But we’ll see about that once I go see about her!”
Dungar regretted asking. With all of Jimminy’s wacky antics and his eccentric approach to the world, he had expected a rather unorthodox story rather than an answer that was so … human.
The wind continued to whistle its soothing melody through the rock formations as the two men wandered their way through the rocky fields. But it was more than a gentle nature sound. Each rock seemed to tune the breeze to different notes, turning each gust into true music.
“Do you hear that, Jimmy?” He asked his friend. He didn’t actually care about the answer, he just wanted to change the subject.
“Course I do, Mista Dungar, it’s the windsong of the Star Fields.”
“Star Fields?”
“Yeah, this here grassy and flowery business that you’re tromping with your big ol’ tootsies!”
“… What?!”
“… The field that we are currently walking in is called the Star Field, mate. And blimey you have big feet for a short fella!”
“Oh. I see.”
“Yup! Y’see, it is said that the goddess Suola has taken this here land as her personal garden. She used her goddess-y magic to keep the baddies out and tended it into this pretty meadow. And at night all the flowers glow a reflection of the constellations so she can see what her home looks like.”
“Hm. How poetic.” Dungar grunted uninterestedly.
“And did you know the song actually has lyrics?”
“Is there any possible way I can get you to not sing them?”
But there was not. Completely ignoring Dungar’s protest, Jimminy began to belt out in his tone deaf voice his familiar tune that was not even close to the rhythm of the windsong.
Way hey and away we explore
Gonna see the woman I adore
Then we’ll find the queen and give her what for!
A way hey and away we explore!
A small walled community could be seen in the distance now, maybe a ten minute walk away. It was a scenic looking community with cobblestone streets that matched the walls and overlooked the colorful meadows. From its idyllic appearance, and the faint smell of freshly baked bread that wafted from it, the town gave off a very peaceful feel.
“Behold, mista Dungar, the town of South Redspring Starmoor. Or SRS for short.”
Thunder crashed somewhere in the distance as he said that, even though the sky was cloudless.
The two men’s feet left the soft mushy meadow ground for the hard stone paving as they entered the town. There appeared to be one main road that carved right down the middle with occasional side alleys jutting out of it. The neat cobblestone paving wasn’t the only stark difference between this place and Woodwall. Unlike Dungar’s home town where all buildings were the same shade of palm tree wood, each building in the town was expertly painted beautifully contrasting colors with great attention to detail. In fact, attention to aesthetic was evident all over. From the hand painted signs of the shops to the neatly swept sidewalks, this was a very pretty place.
“Excuse me, m’dear!” Jimminy called out to a portly yet pleasant enough looking middle aged woman who had just stepped out of the bakery. She hadn’t noticed them during her exit, so Jimminy reached over and tapped her shoulder before she could walk away. “’Tis a bit of a longshot, but do you perhaps know a—”
His inquiry was cut off when the woman turned around and, upon seeing the two men, screeched an ear shattering scream loud enough to drop Dungar into the fetal position.
“Blimey. That was quite a sound you made just now—”
He was cut off yet again by another banshee wail from the woman.
“JIMMY! WHATEVER YOU’RE SAYING, STOP SAYING IT!” Dungar yelled through plugged ears.
“I DON’T KNOW WOT I’M SAYING!!” He screamed back, hands now over his ears.
“AMBASSSADORS OF THE PATRIARCHY ARE HERE TO RAPE AND OPPRESS US!!!” The woman yelled at the top of her lungs.
At that moment, Dungar and Jimminy realized something about the people moving about the street. There was not a single man among them. Immediately similar shrieking and cries for guards echoed through the streets. Within moments a detachment of women armed with swords and chain mail tore around a corner and confronted the duo. Immediately the bewildered men raised their hands high over their heads.
“Er …” Jimminy stuttered to the intimidating looking ladies. “I don’t suppose any of you know a—”
This time he was silenced by a metal clad fist cracking him in the face. The guards did not say a word to either one of them. Instead they silently ushered them at sword point towards a brick building at the far end of one of the alleys.
