Godnapped!, page 3
“You did it!” Vejuna was beaming.
“Did I? How? I didn’t do anything…” Bolonius was overwhelmed.
“But you did! Look, we’re in the Galdosh dimension, and we’re alive! All thanks to you!”
“But—”
“Shhhh… Don’t doubt it. You’re the only one who could have done it, so stop rationalizing. You’re amazing!”
But he wasn’t, and he knew it. No wizzer could open a portal without focusing and drawing the right patterns with his wand, and he had done none of that. Then again, a herbologist couldn’t open portals at all. Bolonius’s mind wheezed in retrospect, trying hard to explain what had really happened. However, he couldn’t take time to care, as Vejuna was already up and marching away, beckoning him to follow.
Chapter 6
Everywhere their eyes fell, they saw desolation. Piles of rocks and ashen remnants of trees made up the whole scenery all the way to the horizon. The environment was grey, the sky and the sun were grey; everywhere, a thousand shades of the most boring color.
“I thought there wasn’t any Nature here,” Bolonius pondered.
“There isn’t. Trees, rocks, water ponds and light sources are the basis for any good setting, so every dimension and every world have been granted that much. But if there’s no Nature to give life to it all, then they’re just barren ideas.”
“But there’s life, though. The Galdoshians, they’re alive, they’re not just an idea.”
“True. Although nobody gives them the consideration they need and crave. For many, they don’t even spur the inkling of a thought. Most people aren’t aware of their existence. So, their life is just an unfertile ground, same as the rest here. They spend their time fighting over nothing and for nothing. But fight they do, because if there’s one thing they’re good at, it’s fighting. That’s how they’ve survived so far.”
“How do you know so much about them?”
“I took an interest a long time ago. But I couldn’t do anything.”
Vejuna fell silent. She hated her circumstances, how she had been forbidden to interfere, unable to meddle, incapable of helping. And now, her precious planet was in danger. She had promised she wouldn’t get involved in Ze World’s affairs of her own volition. But the elves hadn’t given her a choice, had they? They didn’t ask for her help, not as such. They had demanded it; so clearly, she had to obey, right?
Loopholes. She had invented them.
They walked on in silence for some times. Bolonius was lost in his own thoughts, still trying to recreate in his mind their entrance into the dimension, to figure out how it had happened. He had been blocked by utter terror, so he couldn’t have done the required steps to open the portal. He remembered wishing for a miracle to happen, but he knew for a fact that there was nobody there to grant him his miracle. No godlike entity would be bothered enough by a wizzer’s and a herbologist’s fate to intervene. And they hadn’t encountered anyone so far, so it couldn’t have happened from this side of the slit.
His thoughts wandered to Vejuna. Somehow, her voice back there had awakened something in him. She had said she needed him. He doubted it was true. She seemed to be such a self-contented woman, strong and very much independent. But she had been as terrified as him, and she had needed him. Would that have been enough to ignite some impossible power of his?
“Bolonius! Watch out!”
The wizzer’s train of thought was suddenly obstructed by rocks raining on it. Not big stones; really tiny ones in fact, but they were legion. A shower of gravel ricocheted off his forehead. It didn’t hurt per se, but it was disturbing. With his wand, Bolonius conjured a shield, and signaled Vejuna to come hide behind it. He instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulder to draw her closer to him and further away from harm. He should have regretted his forwardness, but it didn’t seem to bother her.
In fact, she used this opportunity to search inside her bottomless pouch and extract a small sphere that she threw at their assailants. As it broke, it liberated a greenish dust cloud that engulfed the attacking crowd. When the fog dissipated, Bolonius saw about three dozen tiny creatures the size of an apple lying down in a hotchpotch of minuscule hats and microscopic weapons. There were also a dozen miniature catapults, some of which had already been reloaded for a second round of gravelly rain.
“Are they… Did you…”
“They’re asleep.”
She turned to face him. He was a good head and a half taller than her, as lean as she was plump, as dark as she was pale, not old but not young anymore either. She liked the twinkly effect relief had on his almost yellow irises.
“Come on, sweetie, I’m not going to kill them for showering us with grit, am I? They don’t pose any real threat so far. Then again,” she turned to look at the little bodies heaving and snoring in blissful rest behind the shield that was still up, “I’m not sure I’d like to have even a hundred of them against me… They’re like ants, but feisty ones; and when fire ants gather to attack an ox, there’s not much left after their passage. They’re an amazing bunch, really.”
She suppressed a shiver by hugging her arms and brushed against Bolonius’s. She curbed the blissful grin that wanted to cover her face because of how intimate they were right now, barely touching but neither one moving, both holding their breath. She could feel his presence hovering over her, the warmth of his breath as he exhaled all the tension that had oppressed him so far. Vejuna liked that man, his charming half-smile, his deep voice and his catlike stare she knew was fixed on her.
She turned around again, which surprised him more than he’d have cared to show. They looked at each other for a second that lasted a bit longer than usual. Then, she grinned widely, took him in her arms and burrowed her face in his chest.
“We’re alive, and you, my dear, are formidable!”
She let go of him before he could reply to her hug or her words, slipped under the arm that didn’t hold the wand and walked on without looking back. Bolonius remained transfixed for a little while before repelling the shield and running after her.
Chapter 7
All around them, the same grey, rocky, desolated background uncoiled for miles, and they walked a long time without seeing any other tiny inhabitants of the dimension. As they stopped to eat, Bolonius popped the question that had been burning his tongue for the past hour.
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“No idea!”
Her straight-forwardness and cheery demeanor, even in the face of danger—or at least, potential one—didn’t surprise him so much anymore, but he enjoyed it now. He was even slightly less astounded when she took one of the Galdoshian creatures out of her pockets.
“But this fellow might help.”
“Where? How? When?”
“Ah, Bolonius, ever the quick-witted! I ‘borrowed’ him from the pack we encountered earlier, when you were still pondering about the hug I gave you. Ah, there, he awakens!”
The tiny being stirred gently, stretching one arm after the other over his head. If there had been colors in this forsaken dimension, his hair would have been as red as a maple leaf. But as it was, it was a flamboyant grey. He was only wearing pants, really rugged and sturdy ones, made of dead bark from indigenous trees held up with lifeless creepers. Vejuna was right; these little imps were quite astonishing and full of ingenuity. And this one was as feisty as advertised.
The moment he realized he was held captive in the herbologist’s hands, he kicked them and gnawed at her fingers, stomped on her palm and boxed her joints. She didn’t bulge, mostly because it was like getting a free hand massage. Instead, she just murmured a few words in a language Bolonius could not understand through the gaps of the makeshift prison and waited. The Galdoshian fumed and roared, grumbled, mumbled, then proceeded to sit down, legs and arms crossed, face furrowed in a compliant yet reluctant grimace.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said we were here to help the Galdoshians get what they wanted, and that if he was good to us, we’d give him a cookie.”
“Really? You barely spoke a few syllables!”
“The Galdoshian language is very concise.”
It was indeed. In just a few syllables, she had in fact introduced herself, stated their purpose in this dimension, asked for his help to avoid further consequences and, yes, promised a cookie in exchange, because cookies are the best reward a Galdoshian can dream of.
Well, what she really said was: “You know who I am and who I’m here for; help me, get a cookie. Don’t help me…” The suspense did the trick. The cookie helped a little. And sure enough, the little creature knew exactly who the herbologist was. Or rather, something in his tiny mind triggered a cautionary memory at the sound of her voice and compelled him to subdue and do her bidding.
Vejuna opened her hands and lifted the one holding the imp at eye level. Keeping him at a close glance, she rummaged through her pouch and, without ever looking down, took a small object out, turned it on with the flick of a switch and held it next to the little man.
“Right, hopefully, that should help us understand each other. Is it working? Do you understand me?”
The imp stared at her, then at the machine that was as big as he, then back at her, fear dancing in his tiny eyes all the time. When he’d assessed the absence of danger, he recovered some semblance of self-possession and simply replied, “Yes, I do.”
To picture Bolonius with his mouth wide open would not render him justice. His jaw had literally dropped, his eyes were bulging and blinking fast, his arms dangled on his side, limp and useless. He was awestruck, flabbergasted, and completely gobsmacked, which are mere synonyms to say he was utterly dumbfounded.
What sorcery was this now? Decidedly, Vejuna was an extremely surprising lady, and he wondered for a second if his heart would sustain any more amazement. He never considered himself as old; in fact, he was still quite springy for a wizzer his age, and wizzers his age were barely just deemed dried behind the ears in their community. But going through the motions with this herbologist, he was gradually realizing that there was such a thing as too much wonder and excitement after a while. Suddenly, he was yearning for his bathtub, a good book about hermeticism and his duckie.
“Erm…at the risk of repeating myself… What? How? Where? And in that order please!”
Vejuna couldn’t suppress a laugh, and it came from the heart. She was taking this good man too far for his own sake, and she knew it, but she had been truthful earlier: she needed him, exactly for that reason—he made her feel good, alive, and human, three qualities she had to cling on to with all her might.
“Oh, sweetie, I owe you that much indeed. This is a transistor; it has been enchanted to translate languages universally; and it comes from another dimension. And before you ask, a friend of mine gave it to me, a traveler through worlds and dimensions, much like you, but not of this planet. I’ll hook you boys up when he’s around again; I’m sure you can teach each other cool crossing techniques. Anyhoo, back to our business, I’m afraid we’re still running out of time. Alright, little buddy, I find it easier to work together when we can call each other by our names. I’m Vejuna, this is Bolonius. And you are?”
“Grrrky.”
“A male of few words, I like that. Great name, too. Well, Grrrky, my friend, where have you taken our good god Mabon? We kind of need him back on Ze World. See, the planet doesn’t fare too well without him, and apparently, his coming here doesn’t exactly help your venture either. Did you really think he would be able to make your dimension fertile?”
“I do not know what you mean. The other one says this one can help, so we take him, but he does not help.”
“The other one? Who’s that other one? What are you talking about?” Bolonius asked.
“Help you do what?” added Vejuna.
“I do not know. The other one says: Find Mabon, he can help you. We find him, he cannot help. BrrrGrrr hits him too hard on the head, so he sleeps, so we take him. Here, he does not help, he does not know how. The other one does not come back to tell us what else to do. We are angry. BrrrGrrr hits him again. He sleeps again. We cannot bring him back.”
“Right. Okay.” Vejuna’s mind was racing. “Can you tell me the name of the other one please?”
“I cannot. I take you to our king, he can. Your friend is there too. Then, you give me a cookie.”
“For sure, darling. For sure.”
Chapter 8
They walked further into the empty dimension. No one uttered a word, but they all thought really hard about what would happen next. Bolonius, persuaded they were dealing with another wizzer—who else could open portals through dimensions, huh?—pictured how he would break the wand of that stupid “other one” if he got the chance. Vejuna, feeling that something was amiss—how could a god “sleep” through all this turmoil, eh?—wondered if they weren’t too late already. Grrrky, hungry and angry—or hangry, he thinks, hangry is a good word—dreamed of his rewarding cookie.
As they approached a castle made of all the bits and pieces tiny beings could set together without mortar or cement, they realized they weren’t alone anymore: hundreds of imps had gathered behind them, some as tall as an apple and a half, some as minute as a prune, all armed with sticks and stones, ready to break their bones.
While Bolonius had at first found them quite inoffensive, reminiscing that only one had been strong enough to put a god to sleep sent shivers down his spine in the face of the gathering horde. However, they all remained at bay for now, on standby but at the ready. Seeing Grrrky sitting in Vejuna’s hand and giving her directions, they had understood that he was acting of his own volition, and thus, they followed him. A Galdoshian can only act, and in doing so, he can only be willing, because if he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t do. Simple logic. Therefore, the two giants posed no threat—yet.
They stopped in front of the castle’s entrance. It was a vast castle—not as big as the humans, obviously, but the gates were three times as wide and tall as the tallest and widest imp they could find, and they soon figured out why. Grrrky called out for the king, and Bolonius understood at once how and why Mabon had been knocked out so easily. What came out of the castle’s doors bore no resemblance to any of the tiny little creatures amassed around them. It was huge in comparison, as dense and prickly as a cactus—both literally and figuratively—with melon-sized fists and abnormally brawny limbs. His movements provoked a humming sound such as a faint earthquake would make, and his ever-growling breathing gave all meaning to his name—BrrrGrrr, the Supreme Galdoshian King.
Vejuna couldn’t understand what or who this creature was, but it wasn’t Galdoshian. However, she figured out at once why he was their king, seeing as nobody in the assembly could compete with him. Yet, from behind the creature appeared another imp, arched on a cane, limping through his floor-sweeping white beard, his face an aggregate of wrinkles and warts.
Realization dawned on the herbologist.
“Oh, that’s the king! Brilliant! Brrgrr must be his bodyguard.”
“It is BrrrGrrr, and you are correct. The king’s name is Frrrty. He is old.”
“That’s an understatement.” Bolonius was fidgeting with his wand in his pocket; he didn’t like the bodyguard’s reputation one bit, so he preferred being ready for anything.
Vejuna knelt down and let Grrrky on the ground. She searched in her pouch and took out a cookie she handed to him. He ate it with glee while all the other imps watched him with envy. She then placed the translating contraption between herself and the king and spoke.
“King Frrrty, I’m glad to make your acquaintance. My name is Vejuna Fandango.”
The two slits that passed for the king’s eyes opened as wide as the wrinkles would let them, but Frrrty regained his composure soon enough. You didn’t get to be king for as long as he if you were easily affected by impressive people.
“You come for the god. He is not well, he cannot help. He dies.”
“He what?” Bolonius lost his temper at the sound of that news. He took his wand out and threatened the king. “What did you do to him?”
BrrrGrrr’s grunt resonated loud and clear as he prepared to charge. Every other imp got ready for war.
“Easy, dear. People, be nice.” Vejuna’s words and her implacable intonation made their effect, and everyone lowered their weapons. “Good. Now, King Frrrty, please take us to Mabon.”
“He does not help. The other one says Mabon helps, but he does not. Do you help? We give you Mabon only if you help.”
“Depends on what you need help with, but I’ll see what we can do. Bolonius here is very good at helping too. But first, I need to see Mabon. You say he’s dying. What makes you think that?”
“Come and see.”
Chapter 9
Youth and beauty are banalities when you’re a god, in particular if you’re the god of Harvest on a planet where people worship and pamper you, and have basically created you youthful and magnificent. But in this dimension that wasn’t his, where he had no actual existence and no believers to love him and restore him, Mabon’s golden locks had turned to a dull silver, and his once pristinely smooth face was withering fast. The blossoming god had waned, and his shriveling figure all hunched up in the corner of a cave was a heart-wrenching sight. Bolonius ran to him to make sure he was still breathing.
“What happened here? Why is he like that?”
“Isn’t it obvious, honey? It’s the same thing that’s happening to Ze World. One cannot exist without the other. We need to get him back, and quick.” Vejuna turned to the Galdoshian king. “One more question, your kingness. Who’s that other one everyone’s talking about? The one that opened the portal to our planet for you. He’s a god too, isn’t he?”
