FIFTEEN

Nobody Ever Did See the Body

While he was still not quite sold on the pirating lifestyle, Dungar had to admit to himself that the company of the misfit mariners was starting to grow on him. Behind all the quarrels and altercations among the crewmen there was still a homeostasis that managed to be maintained in spite of it all. It was via that equilibrium that even after such a harsh journey the crew was able to come together with their common goal still firmly in place. At least, after they finish having a go at one another.

“WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY WEAPONS, BLAINE? IT’S NOT FAIR THAT YOU HAVE SO MANY MORE WEAPONS THAN THE REST OF US.” Shane continued to yell to pretty much anyone within earshot, which, at this volume, was probably everyone in the kingdom.

Without even moving his head, the blind pirate gently patted the various weapons strapped to his person. “Finders keepers, matey.” He grunted.

“BUT I’M REALLY TIRED FROM THE SWIM.” Shane insisted. “I NEED TO BE BETTER ARMED SO I CAN PROTECT MYSELF.”

This time Blaine turned his sightless face in Shane’s direction. “We all made the swim, ya whiny oaf. We’re all tired.”

“If I may interject,” the pompous and pretentiously accented voice of Wally cut in, “if you are going to be sharing your armaments with the rest of us then that jeweled dagger on your belt would look absolutely darling with my current ensemble.”

“Nobody is gettin’ any of my weapons!” Blaine growled at the group.

“And we’re not all tired either!” Finn added, turning his attention to Larry. “SOME OF US felt that it was an okay course of action to simply ride on the back of one of the more able-bodied individuals making the swim.”

“Hah, in what ocean are you considered able-bodied you great hefty mammal of a pirate, you?” Larry bit back. “Besides, I helped ya with the kickin’.”

“Speakin’ of fellow pirates catchin’ rides on their crewmates …” Blaine said, turning towards Ozzy. “What’s yer excuse?”

“Well I’m old!” The wizened man insisted with a smile. “And surely a spry young strapping pirate like you could handle a little extra burden!”

“A little extra burden?” Blaine echoed incredulously. “I’m already blind!”

“Are you really though, mate?” Jimminy asked. “I mean seriously, how are you able to do any of this if you can’t see anything?”

The entire group around the fire fell to a hushed silence as all heads turned to face Jimminy, many with shocked or displeased looks.

“Wot … ?” The shaggy man asked warily.

“Great sea weavin’ mermaids, lad!” Nobeard criticized. “Ye can’t just ask a man if he’s actually blind or not! Have ye no decency?

“Oh my lord, mate!” Jimminy exclaimed. “I am so sorry! You are right, that was very indecent of me!”

At that, all the pirates burst into an uproarious laughter as Jimminy looked around in bewilderment.

“We’re pirates, matey.” Blaine croaked in between guffaws. “Ye really think we care about common courtesy? Hey Finn, why are ye such a fat lard, huh?”

“I’d have to show ya!” Finn mumbled through a mouthful of bread. Then he pointed at Blaine’s face and, with a laugh, shouted “Oh wait, I can’t!”

As Dungar and Jimminy sat stone-faced and confused, all the pirates burst into another bout of raucous laughter that lasted a few minutes. Then, after it died down, Blaine turned back to Jimminy.

“Aye, I am indeed blinder than fatty over there is obese. You see, our dearly departed Hugo Bonny, may his soul find rest at the bottom of the sea and may his body be eaten by fishies, had something of what ye might call an anger problem. Anywho, long story short, he caught me cheating in a game of Liar’s Dice. Here I thought I game called Liar’s Dice would promote cheating, but apparently not. After we had ourselves a heated chat on the matter, he simply said to me: ‘Ye have yerself some pretty deadlights there, laddy.’ Next thing I knew, he had pulled two knives popped me eyeballs clean outta me skull.”

Dungar’s mind immediately went back to his short-lived encounter with Hugo. At the time he had no idea what the man was even talking about, he had never heard the term deadlights before. Now to know that he was potentially mere moments away from suffering a similar fate was unnerving to say the least.

“So you never told me how you manage to do everything you do then.” Jimminy reminded Blaine.

Quicker than Jimminy could react, Blaine reached over and, with stunning precision, pinched Jimminy’s nose between his fingers then wiggled the man’s head side to side.

“I couldn’t explain it to ye even if I wanted to, matey.” The blind pirate boasted with a cocky smile, exposing his yellow teeth.

“Alright enough with yer pissing match, lads.” Nobeard ordered as he produced three torches. “It be time to continue. Now which three of ye are to be torch bearers?”

Jimminy enthusiastically jumped to his feet and took a torch from Nobeard. He was then followed by Ozzy and Blaine, respectively. After the torches had been lit, Nobeard poured a nearby bucket of water onto the main fire and confidently set off into the bowels of the arboreal maze.

The interior of the tree was vast and twisted. Even with the lighting from the torches and vines, the party’s surroundings were still shrouded in a haze of darkness which caused the copious amount of passageways surrounding them to be barely visible. Each person’s foot would make a squelching noise as it sunk into the soggy moss that coated the floor. Even over the rhythmic squishing noises, though, faint whispering sounds could be heard emanating from the assorted openings in the walls. Murmurs from members of the crew indicated it was not only Dungar hearing them, Nobeard insisting to them that it was just the wind. However, there was no breeze to be felt.

“Do not let yerselves be driven crazy, lads.” Nobeard advised the crew in a low voice. “This tree be having many tricks up her sleeve.”

Dungar focused on each one of his senses: the soft feeling of his feet sinking into the mossy carpeting, the stuffy and earthy smell of the tree’s interior, the sight of the confident captain juxtaposed with his increasingly wary crewmen, and the sound of his own breathing in tandem with the squishing of his shoes. Yet even completely focused, the faint sounds of distant murmuring were still registering to him. This was no simple mind game, there were other things lurking deep within these passages. It must be the nymphs the captain mentioned, but the sounds were not what Dungar had in mind.

As the excursion continued, Dungar found himself becoming more and more curious as to the nature of the sounds. They seemed to be some form of communication, but not in an ominous or intimidating manner. Instead they sounded almost fearful, as if they were pleading with the party.

“This is our home.”

“Why are you here?”

Dungar jumped as he heard the mysterious voices. They were indeed feminine like he imagined, but they had an air of vulnerability to them that he was not anticipating. The rest of the crewmen surely must have heard them as well, as the pace of the group had slowed significantly as the eyes of the wary crewmen began to wander around worriedly.

“There is something down that passageway!” Finn cried out as he pointed down a nearby opening.

“No, lad, don’t!” Nobeard ordered him. But the command fell upon deaf ears as Finn took a deep breath and began to trundle at an awkwardly fast pace into the darkness.

“Really?!” Nobeard yelled after him. Then he turned to the crew. “Does it not go without saying that when you’re exploring a magic and hostile tree you don’t stupidly run away from the pack? Gahhh.”

Nevertheless, Nobeard was not one to abandon members of his team, so he begrudgingly took off down the passage after Finn with the rest of the fellowship following suit. Fortunately, Finn was a rather slow moving man, so Nobeard managed to catch up with him right as they made it into a well let clearing at the end of the passage. There were copious amounts of the light vines on the walls, floor, and ceiling that bathed the room in enough light to showcase the grassy meadow that it was. In the very center of that meadow lay a wide log with a delicious looking buffet laid out on it.

Finn stopped short when he first saw the buffet, momentarily stunned by the sheer appetizing beauty of it. He then made a dash towards it, but didn’t make it more than two steps before Nobeard grabbed him by his hair and yanked him backwards causing him to fall on his ass.

Nobeard could not even bring himself to yell at the pirate as he loomed over Finn. He was having difficulty finding the right words to express just how much contempt he had towards the situation. Finally he just screamed.

“HAVE YE LOST YER MIND, BOY!?” He turned to the rest of the crew. “Are you all insane?! Is it not too much to expect for ye all to follow yer captain’s orders? And another thing, where in the bloody misty shallows is Larry?”

Dungar looked around. Larry was indeed nowhere to be seen.

“He said running was too hard with his peg legs, mate.” Jimminy explained. “So he decided to just wait until we got back.”

“Why I oughtta throttle that lazy bastard …” Nobeard mumbled to himself as he began to make his way back down the hallway.”

“Please. We mean you no harm.”

Dungar jumped again as he heard the voice whisper to him.

“You alright, mate?” Jimminy quietly asked.

“Do you hear that, Jimmy?”

“Are you hearing voices too? Why am I the only one not hearing voices for once?”

“I don’t know what they want. But I’m starting to get the feeling there’s something wrong here.”

“Alright Larry, you better have one excellent excuse!” Nobeard yelled out angrily as the group reached the end of the tunnel.

Larry was not the silhouette at the end of the tunnel. As it turned around, it was revealed to be a beautiful female figure. Her nose-less face was as smooth as porcelain, her eyes glowing the same vivid green as the vines on the walls. Her shoulder length hair was also green, a darker forest shade that was slightly bristly. Her arms, chest, and waist were all wrapped in shrouds of leaves and vines that clung to her body as she elegantly moved towards the group.

Nobeard didn’t even let her get a word out before he drew one of his long, slightly curved swords, and hacked her head clean from her neck before front kicking her body several feet backwards and into a wall. As he sheathed his sword and turned around, he saw the faces of everybody, including Dungar, gazing upon him with mortified expressions.

“Alright look!” Nobeard attempted to comfort them. “I know this looks bad, but you need to trust me!”

“Nooo! Why are you doing this?”

“What is going on, Nobeard?” Dungar demanded as he stepped towards the pirate captain.

“You know why we’re here lad, I didn’t lie to ya.”

“You didn’t tell me we’d be killing innocent creatures in order to get the treasure.”

“They aren’t innocent creatures!!” Nobeard asserted. “They are NOTHING!”

It was in that moment that Dungar realized just what was happening. The nymphs of the tree weren’t the vicious predators here, they were.

“I didn’t agree to help you murder helpless creatures. And I certainly am not going to stand idly by while you do so without me.” Dungar threatened.

Nobeard drew both his swords. “It’s a shame, lad, I thought you were mentally tough enough for this. It appears I was wrong.”

“Come on, Jimmy!” Dungar called to his friend before grabbing him and taking off back down the same passageway that Finn did. As they reached the same clearing as before, and took the left fork, Dungar noticed that the buffet table from before had disappeared. He didn’t know if Nobeard pursued him or not, but he kept running, picking random passages each time he came across forks until he was hopelessly lost in the labyrinth.

Dungar slowed to a walk as he worked to catch his breath. He looked over his shoulder to see an empty hallway behind him. Nobeard was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Jimminy for that matter. Not that it mattered much anyway; he couldn’t expect Jimminy to fight the pirates for him. Going toe to toe with the captain was something he was going to have to do himself.

He studied the passageway he found himself in as he walked. At some point during his escape, the vines on the wall had turned from green to white and the moss had turned to a flower meadow. The new setting had a warm and calming effect on him, but he couldn’t help but feel mildly suspicious of it. This entire scenario almost felt as if he was dreaming. He ran his fingers over the light vines and plucked the grass from the ground. The surreality of his situation aside, he was quite confident in his lucidity.

As he stood up, he looked down the hallway and saw another silhouette like the first one. She carefully walked towards him, taking care to not step on any of the flowers that bloomed around her.

“Are you not one of them?” She asked him. Her voice was high, melodic and it seemed to echo through the room as she spoke.

“No.” Dungar asserted firmly. “I want no part of what they’re doing.”

A smile of relief crossed her face as she continued to approach. As she reached him, she ran her hand down his arm. “Will you help us, Dungar? Can you protect us from them?”

Dungar was a little taken aback by the request. He was curious how she suddenly knew his name.

“Do not be afraid, Dungar.” She assuaged. “By becoming a guardian of the tree, you have become one with us.”

Her hands still on him, she began to guide him down the passageway. As they reached the end, he found himself in a large, rounded room with a high dome ceiling rife with light vines dangling from it like chandeliers. In the room was a crowd of other nymphs who appeared to be gathered to welcome him. They invited him to sit at a table on which an extravagant banquet was laid out. There were wines, ales, exotic fruits, delicious pastries, and roasted meats of every kind.

Dungar was ushered over to a seat at the head of the table as all the nymphs seated themselves to dine. Many took it upon themselves to express gratitude to him for his aid while others took to clinking their goblets and celebrating. He didn’t even have to fill his own plate, for a fully dished serving of everything simply materialized before him complete with a golden chalice of his favorite whisky.

“Here’s to our champion, Dungar!” One of the nymphs cried, standing from her chair and raising a glass. “The bravest protector we could ever hope for!”

The resulting cheer from the rest of the nymphs gave Dungar a feeling of fulfillment and elation more gratifying than anything he’d ever felt. He was the guest of honor, he was somebody’s hero, and he was actually appreciated. It was perfect; so perfect in fact, that it’s almost as if it was tailor-made for him in particular. Something was not right.

“Why am I so bloody special?” Dungar demanded, rising from his chair. The celebrating ceased, the room fell silent, and all eyes set themselves upon him. “I haven’t done anything for any of you and yet you all praise me as if I were some sort of god.”

“You’re our champion …” One of the nymphs tentatively said. “You are our savior, here to rescue us from those who are here to do us harm.”

“I haven’t saved any of you from a bloody thing.” Dungar scoffed. “You expect me to believe that you, you who can make these maze-like rooms and passageways and can conjure banquets and flowers and fireballs from midair, you really expect me to believe you can’t deal with intruders on your own? What are you all playing at?”

He looked around at the beautiful yet horrified faces that stared silently at him from the table. Before him there was delicious food of every variety he could possibly desire, every drink that he would carefully brew in his home, and a pack of gorgeous creatures that looked upon him with such admiration. It was all so impeccable, all the way down to the resulting feelings of purpose, acceptance, and affection. It was a scenario so flawless that it was as if it had pulled right out of Dungar’s own head. So flawless that it must have been.

“Nobeard was right.” He uttered. “You are all literally nothing.”

The golden chalice in his hand suddenly passed through his fingers as if he had turned into a ghost. Some of the nymphs leaped from their seats attempting to reason with him while others tried to appeal to the same subconscious desires that built the entire fabricated scenario.

“Foolish Blacksmith, you’re throwing away the only opportunity you’ll ever have for happiness.” A pompous and familiar voice taunted from behind him.

Dungar turned to see the figure of Rainchild standing with his arms casually behind him, the man’s mouth twisted into its usual self-important smirk. He reached out for the man’s neck, but his hands passed right through Rainchild’s body in a similar manner as the chalice.

“He’s right, you know.” The squeaky voice of Mayor Walph Dooble called out from Dungar’s left. “You always were a black sheep, Mr. Loloth. Why would you do away with the only place that would take you?”

Suddenly he was surrounded by all of his old neighbors from his home all gazing upon him with looks of disdain, contempt, and pity.

“You should have stayed there.” One of them called out.

“We don’t want you back.” Another declared.

Dungar couldn’t take it anymore. He spun around and made a dash for the nearest passageway, but stopped short when he found the quivering figure of Jitters blocking his only exit. The frail old man slowly raised his shaky head and stared into Dungar’s vibrant blue eyes with his own grey lifeless ones.

“I was your only friend, Dungar, and you were mine. How could you leave me to die all alone in this village?” He besought in a voice every bit as weak and frail as the body it came from. The cane fell from his hands as he collapsed to his knees. “Now you are every bit as alone as me when I lay on my deathbed.”

Dungar could only watch helplessly as his oldest friend breathed his last before collapsing at his feet.

“Shame, we could have used him at the new arena.” Herrow’s voice snidely mused from somewhere nearby. She and Dritungo were the next figures to show up to torment him. She folded her arms complacently as she unsympathetically loomed over Dungar as he knelt by the body of his friend.

“Well maybe not.” She continued. “It makes for a better show if the contestants at least run around and scream a little before dying, this pathetic fool here probably would have just had a heart attack. Boring.”

“I destroyed your arena.” Dungar reminded her. “And you with it.”

“Oh is that what you think?” Herrow laughed before raising an eyebrow. “That was indeed quite a show you put on, and it set me back quite a bit in my business endeavors. But you didn’t actually see my body, did you?”

Dungar clenched his teeth and fists as he rose to his feet and glared at her.

“Yes yes, you’re very scary.” Herrow mused in a bored voice. “You can’t exactly assault a figment of your imagination though. As for my arena, we can always rebuild bigger and better than ever. It’s quite a lucrative business, you know. I certainly have the funds to do it.”

Dungar couldn’t listen to another second of this. He knew that none of them were real, that they were just manifestations conjured by the tree to torment him. But whether or not it was the actual person standing there saying these things to him didn’t mean what they were saying wasn’t true.

His own home never really was a home to him, it was simply a residence. He knew he never fit in with the townsfolk, but until now it had never really hit home the way it currently did. Nor had it occurred to him that in all likelihood he was never going to see his friend Jitters again. Even his triumph at the arena was ultimately little more than a minor setback for a much larger issue.

On the other hand, this was probably exactly what he was supposed to be thinking. All these manifestations were meant to mess with his head. They were conjured with the express intention of making him doubt his place in the world and drive him insane. This realization brought him to the conclusion that, completely irrespective of the validity of anything they had to say, he was not in a proper state to confront these issues. The only issue that needed confronting at this point in time was getting out of this bloody tree.

He took off down the nearest passageway, not stopping for any of the new figures that would appear around him. He didn’t know where he was going; he just knew he couldn’t stay in place. As he rounded another corner, he saw a figure up ahead facing away from him.

“Hey!” Dungar called out as he headed towards them. “Who is that?”

As Dungar got to within a few paces of it, the figure turned around and revealed itself to be none other than Sir Pent.

Dungar groaned when he saw who it was. “Another one of you, eh?” He grumbled.

Sir Pent didn’t say a word when he turned to Dungar. He just smiled then balled up one of his gauntlets and cracked him square in the face.

Dungar recoiled, stumbling backwards several steps before falling onto his back. As he clutched his nose, he looked up to see Sir Pent looming over him. The knight wore the same armor as he did in the desert; except it was now encrusted in filth and bore a massive dent right in the center of the chest plate. Eerily, he gazed down at Dungar with a similar set of glowing green eyes as those of the nymphs.

“No, Mister Loloth.” Pent stated in a calm, monotone voice. “Unfortunately for you, I am very much real.”