The Jumping bag:
As we walked down the path, the day dwindled further towards dusk and I was worried that we would never find the wives of wood or the wood wives or any sort of wife at all. Any quest that took more than a day needed to be worth the effort, and so far--leprechauns or not--this was a bust so far. I started to fantasize about throwing my knife so hard and far that it punctured the sun, and it went squealing off below the horizon only to rise straight back up, turning night right back into day. In my mind’s eye, the day would get brighter and brighter until KAPLOW! the sun exploded from the fatal wound I’d dealt it.
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| the path |
“Jack?” The voice was Corinth’s. It cut through the spectacular fireworks display in my mind’s eye like a dull and dirty knife through fresh butter, slowly and leaving a stain as it went. The stain was boredom, whatever he wanted to talk about would be boring.
“Why were you so unnerved in the clearing? Given the things we have faced together…”
He paused as we both shuddered, memories haunted by cyclopean monstrosities stirring dangerously between us, threatening to be fully remembered. There would be wine and women tonight, I thought. I don’t know how death would be a comfort to my friend, but I silently vowed I would not envy him from the warmth of my bed full of flesh this evening.
After some time had passed, I spoke.
“It came from a place full of the foulest evils imaginable. The wine cellars of the Duke of Marquest to be specific. I was there before I was here and I pray each night that I will not visit there in my dreams. The dreams would not be as bad, but still I would rather dream of anything else. Even Rodrick the Blue.”
At that confession, Corinth’s eyes grew wide. Of all the odious things that befell us aboard the Darkstar, Rodrick the Blue (either of beard or balls, depending on his mood), caused us the most lasting damage. We both had scars, mental and physical, from our run-ins with the lout.
Before he could respond tearfully, the foliage above us exploded as something crashed down through. We scattered as a bag landed on the path. It bunched itself up and launched itself up into the air, a voice cried out for help from within.
Before any of us could react or caution against it, Grit leaped forward and grabbed the bag. It fired into the air and carried him with it up and through the foliage. There was crashing and swearing and shouting as the bag crashed back through the firmament of foliage. It crashed to the ground in a swirling, dusty haze that obscured the path before us. We looked at one another; Jack to paladin, paladin to owlman, owlman to Jack and without a word we raced together down the path towards the cloud of dust hiding our friend.
As we arrived I noticed that the goblin was attempting to talk to the bag, and without waiting, flipped the latch open. I gasped, not too audibly I hope, as a small devil popped out. There was no doubt it was a devil, there were claws and yellowed eyes and cloven hooves for feet. The face threw me though, for it was very innocent. In fact there was more than just a passing resemblance between the two if you understand my meaning and if you don’t...I’ve nothing further to add, just that I was suddenly worried.
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| Little Devil |
“That awful man stuffed me in this bag,” the creature panted at us.
“And I’ve freed you, so now what?” Grit stood tall, a whole inch taller than the demon, in askance.
“A bargain we can strike, if you’ll let me go with no further bother. I’ve no wish to be here in this cold cold place and longer than necessary. Please tell me terms so that I may continue on my way, a free daemon.”
The devil shuffled anxiously back and forth. I thought perhaps he was worried about being shoved in that sack again. I chose not to engage however, and started looking down the path. I had heard stories growing up, that it was wise to never deal with a devil. That was in fact a tenet of the Jack training. Yes sir, you left them alone and they tended to leave you alone. I was told very clearly one day during my formative years (cue flash back: a younger me, still roguishly adorable sits before a naivish man. His blonde hair is slicked back and his pencil thin mustache is waxed to perfection. He is speaking to me, emphasizing his points with shadow play in the dimly lit room that we are sitting in. A small fire is before us and his shadow puppets tower on the wall above us):
“Never ever mess with a denizen of hell. Avoid their notice as much as possible.” The shadow thief hid from a shadow demon on the ceiling.
“Because if it does notice you…” And the demon discovered the man hidden in the shadows.
“They will not stop tormenting you until they are satisfied, and a demon thinks in centuries instead of days. A demon’s delight and satisfaction may take years to be complete.”
The demon on the ceiling laughed, deep belly laughs full of wickedness and evil intent.
I walked away then as the goblin and the daemon bantered and bartered and eventually terms were reached, but I was well down the road.
Some things are best left unheard, as ignorance is bliss, especially the words that drip from a daemon’s tongue and I was happy to leave them to their wheelings and dealings.
In the distance I could hear thunder. I looked to the horizon and saw not a cloud in the sky. Well, clouds yes. But big fluffy ones and no dark and threatening monstrosities in the distance.
The thunder came again, low and from the forest. Grit was finished, and walked over looking pleased. I did not see the daemon. The rest of the party headed down the path with me, towards the whip crack of thunder in the trees.
Meboyoh and the great canoe in the sky:
The CRACK-SNAP sound led us to our most peculiar sight yet, a flying gnome.
That is correct, a flying gnome is what you just read. Upon further rumination, and a need for utter clarity, maybe flinging or falling gnome would be more accurate. Here’s what we witnessed:
A tree in the distance as we approached the source of the thunder suddenly appeared. There was no tree and then suddenly there was, whipping back and forth as if in a high wind. We looked on, enthralled by the sudden appearance of a tree.
None of us saw the landing, but we did hear it; a raucous crash behind us as something plummeted into the ground from on high. We rushed, as a group, to see what was going on.
There was
“Whoa,” said Grit. “That was amazing!”
He spoke for us to a bird. The small person strode through the clouds swirling before it. It walked right up to us, clouds, eager to remain relevant, streaming after.
He stuck his hand out to Grit.
“Meboyoh’s me name, ‘n’ flying is me game,” he said proudly as Grit tacitly reached out and accepted his greeting.
“What do ye keen?” he asked, taking our measure one at a time. I took his measure in return.
He was a squat and hairy dwarf (yes, Corinth had to tell me to stop casting about for pots of gold.) and he reeked of sap and pollen and he was covered in both substances from head to toe which painted him with swirls of color over his rough leathery hide (Corinth’s description and not mine). His eyes were the same color as the sky and they were focused on the owlman. He grinned broadly and I saw that his smile was shattered by many many impacts and looked to be made of loose white pebbles all broken.
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| Meboyoh (by Brian Froud) |
“You’re trying to fly,” Icarus said meeting the gnome’s gaze.
“Aye, I am,” he spat the words more than spoke them. “Ken ye assist me in reaching the land in the sky aboove us?”
We all looked at one another, puzzled.
“It is the land above us. I know it is there, I just have to get high enough to reach it. Or you could give me a ride?” he asked looking imploringly at Icarus. His plea was met with a slow head motion indicating that Icarus was in no mood to fly anyone anywhere.
“Then plan B me lads. Help me pull down this massive honker of a tree o’er here and I will grant you any favor I am able to before I ascend to the heavens!”
“We are on a quest,” said Corinth. “We seek the stolen woodwives and to rid this land of the axeman Rupert in the name of my lord God AJSKAHDKJA 2. Can you aide us?”
The gnome nodded. “Aye, I can. I know exactly where they are, I saw them the first time I had my hands on the Great Canoe in the sky. 3”
After we agreed to help him, Meboyoh spoke of an enchanted tree where the wives were being held.
“It lies a fair way away in that direction. I can see it from the air and I can say with certainty that ye lads will find it with nary a bit of trouble. Now then...to the task at hand!”
With that he set about scouting the area and finding the biggest tree he could that met whatever conditions he was searching for.
“This one here’ll do the trick,” he said and started to climb a tall and bendy Over tree 4. When he got to the top he dropped the ends of a long rope down to us and tied the middle around the top.
“Now run, lads! Straight back until she’s touching the ground!”
So we started running and—lo and behold—the tree did in fact drop down to the path.
It was easy, so easy. And it was fun. I remembered being a boy, long before the days of conscription as a pleasure mate and longer still in the days before I donned the Jack mantle and struck out on my own. Instead I remember running through a field, my family there. We are trying and failing to fly a kite. I remember the pride I felt as it went airborne with my mom and dad and brother and I all running like mad in the shadow it created as it eclipsed a small part of the sun.
I felt that same pride now as the tree touched down and Meboyoh settled himself at the end of the bendy tree and waited.
It was not a hard thing to do, to let go and grant him his desires. He flew then and his shout of triumph and glee echoed down to us. That and only that.
Meboyoh never came back to earth.
Of night and goats and night flights:
Night fell quickly in the woods. One minute we were walking through twilight and the next I could not make out my hand in front of my face. We walked on in silence, each of us regretting our decision to press on. Each of us regretted our decision to not pack a torch. Now, about what comes next...I am nothing if not a faithful correspondent of the truth and as such I hope what I share will be met with understanding and not derision and judgement. Here goes:
In the duchy of the Duke there is a persistent rumor. One that, upon hearing for the first time,is easy to dismiss. “Watch out for it, there’s no telling what might happen if it gets a hold of ya!” and also:
“That fair bit of bleating might be the last sound you hear, well other than the sound of your soul crunching between its teeth as it eviscerates you, physically and spiritually.”
So while it's easy to dismiss, there starts to be a whispered pattern. A web of fear and awe of the Caprinae variety formed of myth and rumor. At least until you are there, in that haunted stretch of land that make up the grounds of the Duke’s complex. There, you believe anything is possible. I know, after seeing only a little of what lurks in that hellish place, that the rumors are more true than false. I know. I know that the goat, the one a masked man came to the Duchy seeking vengeance against and revenge on, is a demon of the highest caliber. Everyone knows.
I tell you this now not to excuse my behavior, but to give good reason for my actions.
The clearing was full of darkness and the sound of chewing when we entered it. A word from the Owlman and the clearing filled with a cold and silvery light that flickered gently. The goat stood there before us, chewing thoughtfully on something and regarding us not with eyes but with pits full of darkness and deceit, The strange silvery light highlighted the saliva dripping from its maw, and glinted off the dull ivory of its hooves and horns. It bleated. I saw another form in the gloom behind this first goat. Two silver eyes gazed into my soul from the darkness. Two. There were two goats, and the one that lived on the grounds of the Dukes manse was too much a demon for the rogues and wayward adventurers that came yearly to die or seek their fortunes.
THERE WERE TWO GOATS SO...I did what any sensible Jack would do. I blindly panicked and let my feet do the walking and the talking. I do not know for how long I ran, nor in what direction, but I did hear a voice, silvery and full of starlight, and I ran to it. I found arms waiting for me in the darkness.
First there was fear, there in the darkness.
Then there were soothing, comforting words.
Then lips.
Then love.
Part 3 coming soon......
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1 Full disclosure I thought he was also a leprechaun, but I heard Corinth call him a gnome. I will have my pot of gold, but it looks like it will have to wait a bit longer….
2 It’s his God, and it’s his business. So no I will not write out the name, it’s best never to mention the gods, lest they take notice in you.
3 Wink, wink.
4 I have no actual idea what sort of tree this was so that’s what you get. You can go now. Seriously that’s all I have to say. I am not here to amuse you with rich anecdotes at all times. Go. Away. Ugh. Fine. Here. Is this what you wanted? Is it?!?
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