Help Wanted: Only Reliable Good Natured Fellows Need Apply

            Two haggard weather beaten villagers stood beneath the tavern awning to escape the glare of the noonday sun and argued loudly about, which village maiden had the lustiest bosom. They swayed gently back and forth with mugs of cheap liquor in their hands trying their best to keep their inebriated bodies upright, but the pair’s friendly bickering immediately ceased upon sight of a familiar yet sinister silhouette in the distance. The pair silently watched as the hunchback lumbered into the village on his donkey being careful to remain unnoticed by the hulking disfigured lout. They observed with curiosity as the hunchback nailed a piece of parchment to one of the common hall doors, contributing to the thick layer of parchment, which already adorned it, and then followed the creature with their eyes as he rode out of the village toward the tower, which loomed oppressively over the horizon.

            The two men waited, and when they were satisfied the hunchback would not return, they staggered up to the common hall door’s to see what the fiend had posted. Most of the town’s folk never bother with the parchments nailed to the door, ‘they was covered with rich men’s letters,’ and most figured it wasn’t worth the bother to decipher them. The town crier was a better source of information anyway. But, this wasn’t the usual circumstance. The villagers rarely saw the hunchback from the tower post anything on the common hall doors, at least not while the sun was still shining high in the sky.

            “What’s it say?”

            “Can’t you read?”

            “You can’t read neither.”

            “I’s can read just fine thank ya.”

            “Proves it. What them curly letters say?” the man said pointing to the parchment.

            “They says,” the man said with a confident smile. “Five gold pieces to a good able bodied fellow who’s wants to help at the keep for one day.”

            “Five gold pieces for one day of work,” the man whistled. “Them letters really spell that?”

            “Yep, them’s what they says.” The man however could only confidently recognize the word for ‘work’ and the word for ‘gold,’ which was all he thought a man really needed to know.

            “I’ll take that gimp up on his offer. I could use five gold pieces.”

            “Well than you’s as empty headed as you’s ugly. Nobody go up to the keep, and ifs they do, they don’t come back,” the peasant said adding some menace to the end of his warning by running an invisible knife across his throat.

            “You’s just a yellow coward, who believes anything those old crazy coots say at the tavern. I don’t believes anything that come out of those geezers mouths.”
            “I’m not a coward,” the other peasant protested.

            “Then come with me and prove it. Two and a half gold pieces is still worth it for half the work.”

            “I’d go, but I gots things to do.”

            “Like what?”

            “I just got stuff to do. You’re not my keeper.”

            “Good. More money for me. I wouldn’t want to share that kind of money with you anyway.”

            The braver villager tore down the parchment, rolled it up, shoved it into the waist of his mead stained pants, and took off for the tower keep thinking of what he would do with his five gold pieces all along the way.

            The peasant emboldened by alcohol knocked loudly on the tower’s great door but there was no answer. The time stretched on with no sign of anyone and he was beginning to think about leaving when Hump answered the door with his great axe in hand. The peasant took a few steps back, summoned his remaining drunken courage and produced the now wrinkled parchment from his trousers.

            “I’ve come about the work sir,” he said meekly.

            Hump looked the peasant up and down, and then moved his gaze to behind the man to scour the area for others who might be lying in wait to ambush him. When he was satisfied there was no immediate threat, he pushed the door open fully and muttered in a soft gruff tone “Come this way.”

            The sobering peasant nervously trailed Hump through a winding maze of dark corridors and locked doors to find Dark Francis sequestered in his chamber absorbed in study. The gray haired wizard sat hunched over a large wooden table, which supported a large array of books, scrolls and jars filled indiscernible contents, carefully counting off drops as they fell from a long glass pipette into a small cast iron cauldron held aloft above a candle flame, which licked at its soot blacked bottom.

            “53… 54… 55,” Dark Francis counted.

            Upon the utterance of fifty-five, an extra drop escaped from the long glass tube, fell into the cauldron and caused a large multi-colored cloud to explode up into Dark Francis’s face, the result of which turned patches of his beard a bright iridescent purple. The wizard coughed, sputtered, and collapsed onto the stone floor motionless. After several moments passed, he regained consciousness and noticed the pair for the first time.

            “Oh, I didn’t see you there. Please, come in,” Dark Francis said making his way to his feet and brushing himself off. “Are you here for the job? Fantastic. Let me show you where you’ll be working.”

            The villager found himself at the mouth of a cavern closed off by an enormous barred gate and secured by an iron lock the size of a man’s head. The cavern opened up below the tower at the end of a valley and looked to the poor man like the tower’s wicked tooth filled mouth waiting to swallow him whole. He then began seriously scrutinize his life’s choice.

            “It’s a very simple job I assure you,” Dark Francis said with his arm around the quaking peasant, half to reassure him and half to keep him from running.

            “All you need to do is clean out her cave and replace the straw bedding. It should only take the rest of the day to do a proper job, and if you do well, you can return each month to perform the task.”

            “What exactly…” stuttered the peasant, but Dark Francis interrupted.

            “Don’t worry,” Dark Francis said with what he thought was a comforting tone. “She’s as gentle as a lamb, unfortunately. She’s just for show now I guess, but she’s very shy, which is more than a little annoying. I mean what is the point in having one if you can’t show it off occasionally. You know what I mean?”

            “I… guess… so… sir,” stuttered the peasant.

            “Oh, another thing. To make sure she doesn’t bother you, You need to smear the contents of that barrel all over you. If you stay in there long enough without it on, she’ll get comfortable enough to come out and then she’ll never leave you alone. This will make sure she stays away so you can work.”

            The peasant removed the lid from the barrel and immediately jerked a hand up to his face to cover his nose.

            “It’s just some rotten fish guts. She hates the smell. Don’t worry you can’t put too much on. Just apply generously, and you won’t even know she’s there,” Dark Francis said while he unlocked the gate.

            The peasant hesitated at the barrel with his hand still clamped firmly over his nose frantically contemplating whether he could out run the hunchback if he wanted to make a hasty retreat.

            “Hump why don’t you give the man a hand,” Dark Francis said observing the peasant’s reluctance.

            Hump grabbed the man by the shirt and trousers, and lifted the man with ease head first down into the barrel until only the man’s legs were sticking out above the rim kicking wildly at the air. A few seconds later, Hump withdrew the man, who gasped and sputtered frantically trying to expel fish ooze from his nasal passages.

            “There you are my good fellow. Now you’re all set. I’ll be back to check on your progress in a few hours,” Dark Francis said before he and Hump departed for the tower.

            “Five gold pieces, five gold pieces, five gold pieces,” the man said repeatedly as if it were a protective spell meant to fend off the odor.

            The peasant found a wheelbarrow, shovel, pitchfork and broom propped up on one side of the gate. He stacked the tools inside the barrow and crouched down behind it to use as a shield to protect himself from whatever unspeakable horror he might find inside. The villager wheeled everything cautiously into the fissure expecting a huge one eyed giant to grab him the moment he entered to bite his head off and roast his limbs, but he only found a large heap of dung and a larger mound of compressed dirty straw both illuminated by the light that filtered in from outside. The cavern continued farther than he could see in the dim light, but from what he saw there was no monster, beast or animal within the hollow waiting to gobble him up. He breathed a sigh of relief followed by a gag caused by the muck that covered him. He vomited a bit into his mouth, swallowed it back down and got to work.

            First, the peasant heaped the dirty straw onto the wheelbarrow, deposited it in the forest and replaced it with fresh straw he found housed in a covered shelter nearby. He then proceeded to dispose of the dung by making several trips loading the excrement into the wheelbarrow and dumping it in the woods.

            The peasant mused that the dung smelled like a field of wild flowers compared to the stink of the rotting fish guts that clung to his skin. He could even taste it in the air with each shallow breath, so after a few unbearable hours of sporadic dry heaving and retching, he marched off to a creek to wash off the sludge. He normally reserved his bath for the end of each month, but this was a special situation. After a thorough scrubbing, he sufficiently removed the smell from his body and clothes, and returned to the cave to sweep.

            The man whistled happily to himself as he swept, thinking of the bounty he would purchase with his new found wealth. He daydreamed of fine meals and mead, the women who would flock to him and more importantly the envious men, who would now fantasize about being in his shoes, tattered and holey as they were.

            The peasant was deep in his revelry, when he heard a noise behind him. The sound of what he imagined to be rough scales sliding over rock. He turned only to see nothing but empty space and shadows, so he told himself it was the sound of the broom and reminded himself not to let his fancy run away with his sense. He continued to sweep, but stopped cold at the feeling of hot breath beating out a slow cadence on the back of his neck. It’s probably just my mind playing tricks on me, he told himself. He closed his eyes took a few large deep breaths to try to calm down and slowly turned around. When he opened his eyes, he was staring into a pair of great shimmering eyes. A female dragon stood before him, her flame colored eyes stared right back into the villagers framed by an aggressively horned crown and rows of dagger like teeth, which protruded from her narrow muzzle.

            The man stood frozen, a warm sensation sprouted from his groin and ran down his legs to puddle on the floor, his hands clenched the handle of the broom so tightly that it drove splinters into his hands, but he was scarcely aware of these sensations. His full focus was squarely on the menacing looking beast in front of him.

            The dragon let out a tinny puff of smoke from its flared nostrils before giving the peasant a long slobbery lick from his chin to his forehead causing his hair to stick straight up from the moist caress.

            The peasant opened his mouth to yell but found it replaced by the high-pitched scream of a thirteen-year-old girl. The dragon startled by the sudden noise beat a frantic retreat back into the cavern, and the peasant returning to his senses turned without hesitation to make a hasty flight for the exit. He exploded through the gate with a speed he had never known. The shrubbery and leaves were only a blur in his periphery as he hurtled past Dark Francis and Hump and on into the forest screaming hysterically the entire way.

            The peasant began to fade from sight amongst the foliage, and his scream became faint by the time Dark Francis yelled after him “Are you coming back?!”

            There was no reply.

            “That’s unfortunate. I thought he was the one,” Dark Francis said sullenly. The dragon now out of confinement rested its head on Dark Francis’s shoulder and began nuzzling him affectionately while propagating a deep rumbling purr. “I wonder what spooked him.”

            Hump just shrugged his massive shoulders and began to stroke the dragon’s long neck.

You Get What You Pay For

           “I’ve ridden many miles and lost many men to attain from you this magic article wizard.”

            Dark Francis and Hump stood with two travel weary knights in the great room of Francis’s tower keep. The one who spoke wore dull green armor from chest to toe. Silver streaks crisscrossed the thick steel, battle scars from past battles.

            “I’m confident that this is what you have traveled so long and far to receive sir,” Dark Francis spoke handing the knight a wide ornately gilded green sword belt. “Sir I can tell you with confidence that I have never been commissioned to fashion a magical item as fine or as powerful as this one before you.”

            “It better be,” said the green knight, strapping the superb piece of clothing around his midsection.

            “It is guaranteed to make the wearer impervious to any attack. If you were to get your head cut off all you need do is pick it up and place it back on your shoulders.”

            “Truly amazing wizard, but I will require a demonstration.”

            “Certainly, sir. I can arrange someone to wear it for the trial.”

            “Nonsense, I’d never allow another man to don this belt. What would stop the man from butchering all of us and claiming it for himself? No, I will keep the belt on. Sir Donnis.”

            The accompanying knight stepped forward at the utterance of his name.

            “Yes sir.”

            “If I am struck dead, kill the wizard.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “As you wish sir, but I can assure you the belt will work. I have spent many days imbedding this belt with the strongest magical enchantments contained in my extensive library,” Dark Francis assured the green knight.

            “Wizard you will provide the axe man. I feel that Sir Donnis is too loyal a knight to be trusted in not holding back when delivering the blow.”

            “My pleasure Sir. Hump step forward.”

            “Sir,” Hump said as he stepped forward giving Dark Francis a little salute.

            “Behead this man Hump,” ordered Dark Francis without hesitation.

            Hump stepped forward and without pause slid his massive axe head through the knight’s thick neck, so skillfully and fast that the head didn’t even jump.

            There was a sudden surprised look on the green knight’s face before he collapsed to the stone floor in a heap sending his head rolling across the floor to Dark Francis’s feet.

            “Rise Sir Knight and reclaim your head!” Dark Francis boomed his arms outstretched as if casting a strong spell.

            The body remained motionless and for a moment, they all stood silently dumbfounded.

            “It just takes a few moments for the magic to do its work,” Dark Francis said confidently.

            They waited a few moments more and the body remained stationary besides a few twitches of the beheaded knight’s feet.

            Sir Donnis drew his sword and took a step forward.

            “Wait Sir, I forgot that in the case of a beheading someone else has to reunite the head with the body.”

            Dark Francis scooped up the head and tried to stick it on the bloody stump of a neck without success.

            “Wait there are a few magic words that need to be spoken,” Dark Francis said trying to stall the imposing Sir Donnis.

            Dark Francis knelt over the body to block it from Sir Donnis’s view and began to mumble a long rambling speech in the tongue of the ancients loosely translated meant, “Get up you piece of crap. Get up already. I said get up.”

             “Oh yes, I believe it worked. Yes, he’s trying to tell us something.”

            Dark Francis lowered his voice to try to mimic the green knight’s voice, but it came out strained and high. “I’m okay good Sir Donnis. I just need a little wine. Could you go fetch me a skin?”

            “Sir?” Sir Donnis leaned forward to inspect the headless corpse.

            “Wine he said!” Dark Francis snapped. “Do you always disobey orders from your lord?”

            “Yes sir. Sorry Sir.”

            Sir Donnis hopped to attention before running out the door to fetch a skin of wine from one of the horses stabled outside.

            “Quick Hump we need to get rid of this body before he comes back.”

            Dark Francis grabbed the head, and Hump tossed the decapitated body over his shoulder. They tossed both out one of the open windows down into the yard just a moment before Sir Donnis burst into the room with a skin of wine.

            “Where did the Lord go?” asked Sir Donnis.

            “Uh, he left of course,” Dark Francis snapped. “Are you always in the habit of losing track of your liege lord?”

            “Left? Why didn’t I pass him on the stair?” Sir Donnis inquired.

            “He left by the window of course,” Dark Francis said.

            “The window?” Sir Donnis repeated obviously confused.

            “He’s impervious to any injury you fool. Why would he bother with the stairs when he can more quickly jump down from the window? Now after him quickly before he leaves you behind. He won’t wait forever.”

            Sir Donnis did a sharp about-face, and he took off through the door and down the stairs yelling, “Wait for me Sir! Don’t leave without me!”

            “Hump! Quickly! Go lock the gate behind him. I doubt he’ll be very happy once he gets outside.”

            “Yes sir.”

            Dark Francis retired to his great stone chair slumping down into it and let out a loud exasperated sigh. “I need to stop letting these fools test my magic talismans themselves.”

The Hero

            “I Julian eighth of my name, knight of Lord Steven the Strong, bravest of his knights, keeper of the holy flame, slayer of monsters and demons, protector of the truth, guardian of the weak and benefactor to the poor am here, in the name of the peoples of the Southern Realms, tasked with the duty of putting an end to your evil over the Northern Lands!”

            The knight stood boldly in Dark Francis’s great room clad in ornate shining armor as he pointed his heavy two handed bastard sword with ease at Dark Francis with one hand and holding a great red and white stripped shield in his other. Upon finishing his speech, the knight poised himself to do battle with the sorcerer.

            “What business is it of yours what I do in my own realm knight?” Dark Francis said coolly from his stone throne comfortably dressed in one of his finest blue robes decorated with constellations and wearing his favorite pointed wizard’s hat on his head.

             “What business is it of mine? How dare you ask me such a question, I am Julian, destroyer of evil, slayer of demons, protector of the truth…”

            “We heard you the first time ‘knight,’ but it still doesn’t answer my question. What business is it of yours, a knight of the southern lands, what I do in the North?”

            “I seek to destroy all evil.”

            “Who says I’m evil? I accomplish important work here unlocking the secrets of life and death themselves. Who are you to tell me that my efforts are evil or just?”

            “I am Julian eighth of my name…”

            “I’m sorry have you been drinking or something? Have you had some moldy bread recently or…?”

            “Silence foul fiend. I seek to rid your pestilence from this place and bring prosperity back to this land. Prepare yourself for death sorcerer.”

            “Wait just a moment. Do you really think that if you kill me you will bring peace to the land?”

            “Yes. Without your shadow hanging over this noble land these poor peasants will live in prosperity once again.”

            “Who said they lived in prosperity before?”

            “Why my Lord Steven the Strong, protector of the realm, light to the world, keeper of the peace…”

            “And this ‘Lord’ Steven is from the North?”

            “I think not. He is from the honorable Southern Lands like myself Julian eighth of my name, knight to Lord Steven the Strong…”

            “So how does he know again that this land was once prosperous?”

            “Well… we hear stories from passing travelers escaping your tyranny.”

            “Why are you really here Sir Julian?”

            “To bring justice to the land…”

            “No really, why are you here? No one rides hundreds of miles from where ever you are from in the south just to bring ‘justice’ to the land. So really, why are you here Sir Julian?”

            “After I slay you evil thing, I will be famous throughout the realms. My name will be inscribed in stone, poems will be written of my heroism, songs will be sung of my feats, my image will be women into tapestries and tales will be told to each passing generation of my deeds, and having defeated you, I will rule this realm with a gentle yet firm hand.”

            “Ah, now we have the truth of it. Vanity and greed,” Dark Francis stated flatly.

            “I have come for glory and riches sir. I do none of these things for anything so petty as vanity or greed. I am Julian eighth of my name benefactor to the poor, protector of the truth, and you sorcerer will die by my mighty sword.”

            “Hump!”

            “Yes master?” Hump answered stepping forth from the shadows behind Dark Francis’s stone chair with an enormous double bitted axe in his hands. The edge of one blade rested on the floor, while the other stood waist high with Dark Francis’s loyal servant.

            “I’m not afraid of your minions. Call forth as many demons as you like. They will all fall to the point of my blade.”

            “Kill him Hump,” Dark Francis ordered.

            “Yes master,” Hump replied.

            The brave knight sprinted forward. His sword point leveled at the sorcerer’s heart as he let out a booming battle cry.

            “For Justice and…!”

            Hump stepped forward and swung his axe as effortlessly as swinging a broom. The brave knight caught the axe blade with his sword, and for a moment, a triumphant grin flashed across his face as he prepared to make his counter attack, but as he tried to move forward to strike the momentum of the axe blade snapped his sword like a twig and cleaved him in half at the waist.

            “…glory,” the knight gasped finishing his war cry as he fell in two soggy pieces across the stone floor.

            “Clean this mess up Hump would you. I have important work to do, and I can’t be disturbed anymore.”

            “Yes master. I’ll get a mop and bucket.”