SIX

If You Can’t Beat ’Em, or Did and It Didn’t Work

It was a dark and stormy night. Somewhere. However back at the bar the day was still bright and the sky cloudless. Dungar remained where he sat, nursing his brew between sideways glances at the intriguing interloper. He still could not decide what to make of the man. This silly stranger who had called him friend so brazenly now sat wordlessly sharing his company. He had always heard the best of friends often meet in odd circumstances, but if this man was to be his best friend then he shed an internal tear for his future. Savage beat-downs on the first day did not usually bode well for relationship longevity. Although, perhaps the burden fell on himself to stop issuing them so readily.

With a tremendous belch and long, drawn out exhale, the glorious silence was once again broken as his guest polished off his drink and decided it had been too long since he had last spoken.

“I don’t believe I’ve, hic, caught your name yet, mate!” he declared, clasping his hand on the blacksmith’s shoulder.

“Dungar,” he growled, swatting the arm away.

“Dungar …” the man repeated to himself, and then again in a dramatized deep voice. “Dungar! Blimey, that’s a manly name. Makes you sound like you have a giant beard and fight marbalts!”

Realizing the man’s gibbering had finally stopped, and that he had no idea what a marbalt was, Dungar felt compelled to draw the attention away from himself.

“And your name?”

“Oh pish, where are me manners?” The man replied, flustered. Straightening up in his seat, putting on his most charming grin, and raising an outstretched hand, he offered his introduction.

“The name’s Jimminy Appaya! How do you do, good sir?”

As they rolled off Jimminy’s tongue, the syllables resounded throughout Dungar’s mind as the culmination of all the characteristics put forth by this clownish individual. His comical appearance, care-free attitude, and whimsical nature all became summed up by those two words. As such, Dungar concluded there was only one appropriate way to respond when someone introduced themselves as Jimminy Appaya.

“My god, what a ridiculous name.”

“Perhaps!” Jimminy replied enthusiastically. “I prefer to think of it as being distinguished! Not unlike myself, mind you.”

Dungar pondered the statement for a moment before returning back to his drink. Distinguished was not in the list of words he would have used to describe Jimminy, but he’d rather not contest the man on the notion because it would cause him to keep talking.

Unfortunately for him, contested or not, Jimminy was not one to let a silence last for too long and was more than happy to individually keep the conversation alive.

“Just so you know, us being best pals now has no bearing on the flute debt a certain mista Dungar still owes.”

At mention of this, Dungar perked up. Depending on how bad mister Appaya wanted his flute, there could perhaps be some use for him after all.

“Have you ever been to Jenair, Jimmy?”

“My name’s actually Jimminy. It’s similar to Jimmy, but with more ‘ins.’”

“I’ll pretend to try and remember that; but have you or not?”

“Well of course I’ve been to Jenair! I have traversed all over this fine land! I have surveyed its acreage from the peak of the Demon’s Kettle! I have traipsed through the teeming vegetation of the Lotsotri forest! I have braved the beast-riddled grounds of the Notasmochtri Forest! I have—”

“Do you ever stop talking!?!!”

At that, Jimminy clammed right up prompting Dungar to take the opportunity to continue.

“As all of my beloved neighbors are now very much aware, I wish to put myself forward as a potential suitor for the queen. However, I have absolutely no idea how to get to Jenair. Do you see where I am going with this?”

Jimminy pondered the question briefly. Casually leaning on the bar, he stared blankly ahead whilst twiddling his moustache thoughtfully. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he turned back to Dungar, sporting his trademarked cheeky grin.

“I believe I do see where you’re going with this, friend!” Jimminy paused briefly to sip from his mug. “And I assure you that you will not have to fear competing with me dashing good looks and irresistible charms for the queen’s hand. Frankly she’s not even really me type anyway. Of course I’ve never seen her before, but even simply based off of the tales regarding her physical appearance I feel I can conclude—”

“CAN YOU TAKE ME TO JENAIR OR NOT?!”

“Oh yeah, sure, mate! Why didn’t you just ask?”

Dungar sighed. Although he had never been to Jenair, he was well aware of the fair amount of distance between his humble home and the core of the country. He was in for a long walk with this man; therefore it would be in his best interest to hone his patience for puerility. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why Jimminy would so readily help him; he hadn’t even offered a replacement flute when requesting assistance.

“By the way, mate, naturally when you marry the queen lady and live happily ever after you are going to reward me with a flute so expensive that I will fear for my life each time I play it in public.”

On the other hand, Dungar also couldn’t help but feel his skepticism of Jimminy was unjustified when it was he himself with the ulterior motives. It was of utmost importance that the nature of his mission remain a secret though; especially when forced to partner up with a cannon as loose as Jimminy.

Stealth and surprise were going to be his most important tools on this venture. Unfortunately those were two tactics that Dungar would wager Jimminy was not particularly adept in. Therefore, the less Jimminy knew the better. As far as everyone shall remain concerned, he is just another hopeful commoner who is deluded enough to think he had a shot with a queen.

“DUNGAR LOLOTH!” an unknown voice roared from outside.

The two heroes jumped; both startled by the call.

“You expecting company, mate?” Jimminy asked nonchalantly.

Dungar turned in his seat to face the direction from which the sound had come. He was certainly not expecting company. He also theorized, given the manner in which he was addressed, that this was likely not a social call.

“That didn’t sound particularly friendly.” He expressed with mild concern.

“The missionaries here really don’t mess around eh?” Jimminy said, laughing.

They remained where they were seated. Both eyed the door tentatively, unsure how to proceed. Sure enough, the unknown voice piped up again.

“Dungar Loloth! As a charged knight of the crown I am ordering you to exit the building, unarmed.”

The voice was firm, authoritative, and clearly used to bellowing commands. Dungar wasn’t entirely sure what a knight sounded like, but if he were to wager a guess it probably would have sounded something like the voice currently calling to him. He rose from his seat and began to proceed to the door before the voice of Jimminy cut him off.

“Wot are you doing, mate!? You’re going surrender just like that?”

“I am being summoned by a knight, Jimmy. Last thing I need is to establish bad blood with the queen’s guard. The sooner I get whatever he wants sorted out, the sooner we can be on our way.”

Jimminy opened his mouth to protest, but Dungar had already strolled out the door. Looking down as he grumbled to himself, he closed the door behind him and began to traipse his way over to the knight whilst addressing him back.

“Alright, what’s this all about?”

He stopped short when he looked up. Before him stood a hardened looking man completely clad in armor which was polished to a mirror shine. He had short and greyed hair which was neatly parted right down the middle and his face, though bearing the marks of aging, was tough and resilient looking.

The man’s eyes were transfixed on him. They were dark and unforgiving, and generated a stare cold enough to freeze a forge. However it was not the intimidating knight that halted Dungar’s advance, but rather the smug looking hippy wizard pompously standing next to him. Rainchild stood calmly, hands behind his back, wearing a smile so self-satisfied that Dungar would happily trade his entire livelihood just to smack it off of him.

“Mister Loloth, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of a royal suitor.” The knight stated. He then tossed a pair of shackles at Dungar’s feet. “I am ordering you to put those on and surrender yourself into my custody.”

Dungar contemptuously inspected the shackles and the knight who produced them.

“Do you have any proof of this?” He demanded, kicking the shackles aside. “And since when do royal suitors have special rights? Anyone can call themselves one. In fact I too am one.”

“MISTER LOLOTH.” The knight yelled, drawing a strange diamond sword from his scabbard. “I am not a man who repeats himself. Do as I command you.”

Begrudgingly he picked up the shackles that he had so brazenly discarded. As they locked around his wrists, so too did his fate become sealed. Suddenly the idea of a trip with Jimminy began to seem so appealing in comparison to being helplessly placed in the hands of his worst enemy and his corrupt caretaker. As Dungar affixed his restraints, the knight sheathed his sword and proceeded towards him.

“I’ll deal with you once we reach the capital.” He said flatly, shoving him towards the center of town. “The main priority currently is making sure Mister Earthumper here reaches the queen in a timely manner.”

At the mention of the queen the wheels in Dungar’s head began to turn once more. Perhaps his situation wasn’t as hopeless as he thought. Provided he could devise a way to escape upon arrival, he could potentially swing this as an all-expenses paid escorted trip to the capital. However, given what he had heard about the castle dungeons, escape was a rather rare feat and it was unlikely he would be able to manage it, let alone manage it in a manner of time before it was too late. No sooner had he began plotting his new plan than did the next surprise of the day happen upon the party.

“I’LL SAVE YOU, DUNGAR!” A very shrill, very familiar voice shouted from above.

The three turned their eyes skyward just in time to see a hairy and pale blur leap from the rooftop brandishing a large rum barrel. The open end of the barrel landed on top of the knight with Jimminy right on top of it, his weight temporarily sealing Dungar’s captor inside.

Immediately the barrel began to violently pound and shake while emitting the muffled yells of the agitated individual trapped inside. Jimminy, doing everything in his power to remain on top of it, called out to Dungar again.

“FLEE, YOU GREAT STUPID MAN! USE YOUR STUBBY LITTLE LEGS!”

At Jimminy’s decree, Dungar bolted. Running was difficult with his hands awkwardly shackled in front of him, but with his only chance at freedom lying beyond the dunes of the Snake Eye desert, he persevered through the awkwardness and discomfort. A hasty backward glance over his shoulder granted him the visual of Jimminy hot on his heels, having been thrown from the barrel. Rainchild and the knight were also in pursuit.

Despite being weighed down by his armor, the knight was making up ground on the two fugitives. Even though Dungar couldn’t decipher his incoherent shouting, he knew that, no matter what it was, it was certainly bad news for him.

As he made his way out of the oasis, his feet hit the smooth powder-like desert sand and his pace significantly slowed on the uneven and ever-shifting ground. Although he had spent his whole life in this place, he had never actually tried running on the sand. He had always enjoyed the feel of it beneath his feet and would often drag them through it, but maintaining a quick pace was not something he had ever felt compelled to practice.

His unpreparedness for the terrain coupled with the stress of the situation only served to further hinder his flight. The blazing sun beat down on his body as his throat grew raw from huffing the parching desert air. Still he persevered, forcing each foot in front of the other as his boots began to fill with the gritty sand. In addition to his own heavy breathing, Dungar could hear the frantic respiration of Jimminy who had now caught up to him.

“Keep moving, mate!” He panted. “Blimey. He’s fast for an old bloke.”

The two finally reached the crest of the dune they were scaling. The heat was intense. Even in the short distance they had traveled they were already nearing exhaustion, but the angered grunts of the pursuing knight creeping ever closer urged them on. After a quick scan of his surroundings, Jimminy shouted “Head for the Lotsotri forest!” before he picked the steepest looking side of the dune and threw himself down it expecting to gracefully slide down like a snow bank. Dungar then watched with bewilderment as Jimminy gracelessly faceplanted and tumbled down the hill before setting off after him.

“Get up, you hairy klutz.” He barked, hoisting Jimminy to his feet.

Before he could get the man fully upright though, Dungar found himself being hindered by the weight of a steel-clad partisan tackling him to the ground. Not one to give up without a fight, he fruitlessly tried to grapple with the knight from below. However his bound hands presented an insurmountable disadvantage and before long he found the knight looming over him, sword drawn.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t gut you right here.” The knight snarled.

“Well. My body will probably stink something fierce by the time you get it back to Jenair if you kill me here.” Dungar offered.

The knight narrowed his eyes, his lips curled into a sneer. “You assaulted and fled from one of the crown’s own elite. There is no trip and trial for you.”

“To be fair:” Jimminy interjected. “It was actually me who assaulted you, mate.”

Ignoring him, the knight raised his sword high in the air. The blade shined brightly in the sweltering midday sun. As he drew breath for the final blow, Jimminy rang out again, this time in protest.

“WAIT!!”

Dungar had no idea why, but for some reason the knight actually did wait, and turned towards Jimminy.

“You can’t kill him yet!” Jimminy insisted. “The adventure has only just begun!”

Every second felt like an eternity. Then Dungar and the knight both answered in unison.

“What?!”

The knight did not wait for a response. He immediately turned back to Dungar and went for the kill. His sword lunged downward. Moments before it met flesh, both the weapon and its wielder were thrown to the side by the wake of an immense creature erupting from the sand.

Time slowed to a crawl for Dungar as he watched the monstrous being continue to emerge from the sand and surround the three men with its long slender body. His eyes traced along the smooth faded green scales of the serpent as it passed over him. Sand smoothly flowed off of its body as it elegantly slid along the terrain sizing up the new prey that lay before it.

As they followed along the body of the beast, his eyes inevitably met the creature’s. They were amazing. They were so … Captivating. They were so large and innocent looking that he couldn’t help but become lost in them as he felt a wave of docility wash over him. Staring into those eyes made all of his cares fade away, removing any desire to do anything besides keep gazing into those big, beautiful, glistening eyes. The sweeping, fluffy eyelashes were a very odd and out of place sight to see on a reptile, but with every bat they served to strengthen the victim’s transfixion.

As the animal circled around to the rear of the party, eye contact between Dungar and the snake was broken and he was relieved of his hypnotic trans. Immediately he collected his thoughts and memories of the local legends came flooding back to him. As he turned around, he found Jimminy and the knight both entranced by the beast’s ocular magic.

“JIMMY!” Dungar bellowed. “DON’T LOOK INTO ITS EYES!”

Jimminy, not moving a muscle or breaking eye contact, called back to him. “BUT … LOOK AT HIM … MATE! HE’S SO ADORABLE!”

Satisfied with its target’s submission, the serpent reared its colossal head. Knowing what was coming next, reasoning took passenger to action for Dungar and he lunged at Jimminy. When he collided with his mesmerized ally, he used every bit of his strength to pull him to the ground. The snake’s massive head careened towards them like a scaly pendulum of death. They hit the soft terrain not a moment too soon as the sudden rush of wind generated by the reptilian projectile blowing past them covered them in sand.

The knight, however, was not so lucky.

When beast collided with man there was a sickening crescendo of pulverized metal and shattered bones. As Dungar looked up from the ground he caught only a mere glimpse of the limp body of his pursuer flying off into the distance before disappearing from sight. As the knight vanished beyond the horizon, the snake emitted rhythmic breathy noise that sounded eerily like laughter before taking off in the same direction like a fetching hound.

The ordeal had ended as quickly as it had begun. As Dungar began to collect himself, he turned back towards Jimminy just in time for the man to throw his arms him.

“Oh Dungar, you marvelous soul, I could kiss you!”

“You’d only get to do it once.” He growled back, prying Jimminy off of him.

They remained seated in the sand for some time; partially out of exhaustion and partially out of amazement at the circumstances. Jimminy summed it up the most eloquently.

“Wow! We almost died. This is a real adventure already!”

Dungar couldn’t help but laugh. Not even a narrowly averted scrape with death could undermine Jimminy’s unparalleled optimism and misplaced confidence. Oddly enough, he couldn’t help but start to feel that a mindset like that was exactly what their little quest needed. He still had no plan, no supplies, and was now stranded in the middle of a desert in with a gigantic, vicious, and oddly dreamy snake who could return at any moment and devour them. His mission was not off to a flying start.

“It’s kind of ironic when you think about it, mate.” Jimminy chuckled.

“What’s that?”

“I knew that knight. Sir Pent was his name. He was always a crooked one, a real hard-ass too. Folks took to calling him ‘The Snake.’” Jimminy grinned. “I guess there really is always a bigger badder wolf, eh?”

At that, they both let loose a hearty laugh as they rose to their feet.

“Sir Pent the snake. Boy, that’s creative.” Dungar sardonically quipped.

They laughed again as they began to shuffle northward over the dunes at a much more comfortable pace than initially. Jimminy was right about one thing. The adventure had certainly begun.