TWENTY-FOUR

Hitting the Fan

Dungar watched horrified as the disembodied head of Jimminy Appaya sickeningly fell from the block and rolled off the stage. The surprise and fear was still present on his face, though lacking the life and luster usually present in his brown eyes. Members of the crowd screamed and jumped backwards as it came towards them before the angry yells resumed. Then, from somewhere within the mob, the chant began.

“Burn the witch whore. Burn the witch whore! BURN THE WITCH WHORE!”

It spread quickly through their ranks until the whole horde had taken up the mantra. The guardsmen shot each other worried looks as the swarm’s vitality began to remerge, stronger than ever.

None of these events had registered to Dungar yet. All of his attention was focused on one thing, and one thing alone. For the second time in just a few days he had watched his best friend die right in front of him. But this time it was different. This time it was intentional, this time it could have been prevented, and this time there were blameworthy individuals.

The first stage of grief was entirely non-existent to the blacksmith as the situation sunk in. The surge of adrenaline that now coursed through his body was wholly derived from him skipping straight to the second stage of unbridled rage. Seemingly effortlessly, he threw the two guardsmen from his back before driving his elbow right between the executioner mask’s eyeholes, snatching his gleaming diamond axe, and burying it deep into the chest cavity of the guard captain.

The mass chanting of the crowd continued to reverberate off the stone walls of the buildings surrounding the square as the rioters redoubled their efforts to attack the queen. The guards also seemed to put up very little of a fight as the radicals steadily began to filter through their blockade. Fortunately, Gilly was one of the first onto the stage. With one of her hands she was pulling Rose while the other reached out and grasped the wrist of Queen Koey as she attempted to pull them both to safety.

After grabbing the executioner and throwing him to the mercy of the crowd to buy time, Dungar retrieved his hammers from the ground and brought up the rear all the while viciously pummeling any protester or guardsman that came within his reach. He didn’t know which side to be on, he didn’t care to consider which side to be on. He just knew he was mad and someone was going to get hurt.

With a mob of enraged civilians hot on their heels, the fleeing foursome raced back to the castle, abandoning any bags they were carrying. When they reached the entranceway, Gilly shoulder checked the doors open and ushered everyone inside before slamming them behind her and jamming her sword between the handles. Immediately the door began to pound and rattle from the outside, but the affixed sword held firm.

Safe for the moment, she slumped against the wall to catch her breath. Rose did the same, sobbing between her labored breaths. Tears in her eyes and hands shaking, she addressed nobody in particular.

“Oh my god … They killed Jimmy …”

“Those bastards!” Koey yelled, pacing back and forth. “This is treason! How dare they sell out their queen! And for what?! And wait, did you tell them I was a witch?”

The sound of rock being smashed drew the attention of the girls who looked over to see Dungar bashing chunks out of one of the marble columns with his hammer.

“Hey!!” Koey yelled at him. “Those are hand chiseled and hundreds of years old!”

“Do I look like I give a damn?!” He yelled back.

“Everybody calm down!” Gilly called to the group, kneeling next to Rose and trying to console her. “None of us told anyone out there about any accusations of witchcraft. And we are still in danger so we need to find another way out.”

“There’s only three doors to the castle unless you count the one to the courtyard.” Koey offered. “But the rioters are probably on their way to the other two doors by now, and the courtyard is surrounded by twenty foot high walls.”

“There’s a panic room with an escape route hidden in the dungeons.” Rose quietly informed them from her spot on the floor.

“How could you possibly know that?” The queen demanded.

“It doesn’t matter.” Gilly interjected. “She probably read it somewhere. If you want to live, m’lady, then I suggest we get going.”

She pulled Rose to her feet then motioned for Koey to lead them to the dungeons. Dungar, body on autopilot while his mind was elsewhere, followed suit. He had no idea how to go about anything anymore. It was difficult enough to choose a course of action before the events of the town square. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Queen Koey and as such did not want her to escape. However, there was no visible reason that she was anything but a mere victim of circumstances. If she truly was the conniving villain from Stranger’s story then surely she wouldn’t be in the position she’s in. There were too many variables to be sure.

No one spoke as the group wound their way down staircases deeper into the bowels of the castle. Torches lined the walls and the smell of mildew hung in the air as they made their way down the narrow stone hallway into the dungeons. Once they encountered the cells, Koey slowed to a stop and turned back to Rose.

“Alright we’re in the dungeons. Where is this panic room you speak of?”

“Er …” Rose mumbled, trying to remember. “For times of crisis when danger is great, the king had issued a crucial mandate, to always keep cell number twenty eight, completely free of any inmate.”

Her three companions all stared at her curiously.

“What? It was a children’s book …”

“We’re trusting our lives to information from a children’s book …” The exasperated queen sighed.

“It’ll work!” She insisted, making her way deeper into the dungeon. “Where is cell twenty eight?”

“It’s farther in the back, close to the … oh no.”

“What … ?”

“That’s the cell where we keep the marbalt.”

Rose stopped mid step then looked at Gilly worryingly. Gilly returned the same look back at her before glancing back towards Koey, hoping she was wrong. Koey couldn’t decide which one of the sisters to look at so she just grimaced, hoping one of them would come up with an idea. Then, simultaneously, all three women turned to Dungar who hadn’t even been paying attention.

“… What’s going on?”

“You’re going to need those.” Koey informed him matter-of-factly, pointing to an armor rack. On the top shelf was a regular town guard’s helmet, but on the middle shelf was a pair of thick steel gauntlets with large, pronounced knuckles that had to be several inches thick.

“What are those for?” He asked tentatively as the each girl handed him a piece of equipment.

“You’ll see.” Rose informed him uneasily.

Mildly worried, Dungar allowed himself to be guided down the hallway and to the left. Many of the cells were empty, but occasional inmates would clang against the bars or shout obscenities at them. He couldn’t help but wonder how long some of them had been there for, and how many, if any, were given to Herrow for her blood sports. However, he didn’t have long for such thoughts because his attention was immediately grabbed when the party came to a halt in front of what one could only assume was cell number twenty eight.

“What in the bloody blazes is that thing!?!” He demanded alarmedly.

“That’s a marbalt.” Rose informed him nonchalantly.

At a glance, the creature in the cell appeared to be nothing more than a bizarre statue. Until it moved. It was roughly the same height as Dungar, and walked bipedally. However, that was where any similarities ended. What he could only assume was the head of the creature was a perfect cube that had no facial features whatsoever, but rather six completely smooth sides. The body of the creature had a more weathered texture to it, and appeared to be slightly porous, but was solid rock nonetheless. Four stony arms protruded from the torso, each with a massive four-fingered hand on the end and every bit as smooth as the cubical head. It walked slightly hunched over, occasionally grabbing at the bars and walls, but as soon as the group appeared it stopped any activity and turned to face them.

“Sorry.” Dungar apologized to the girls. “I have a rule. I don’t fight anything without a face.”

“In the event we survive this, I will see to it that your courage is adequately compensated!” Koey offered. “I’ll even grant you honorary knight status.”

“Look, ‘princess,’ ‘queen,’ ‘whatever,’ I haven’t even decided whether or not I’m going to kill you!”

“Please, mister Dungar!” Rose urged as she looked up at him with the same puppy dog eyes she gave the guards. “You’re our only hope!”

“Put that face away, dammit. It doesn’t work.”

“Look, Dungar,” Gilly interjected. “We have nothing to bribe you with. But we’re trapped in this castle and sooner or later we are going to be found. We may not have been considered enemies of the revolution before, but now that we are harboring the queen I can assure you they will not grant us a warm welcome. This cell is our only escape. Now if you don’t have it in you to confront the creature, then give me the gauntlets.”

Dungar growled to himself after she finished speaking. Like it or not, she was right. Someone had to go in there, and whether it was due to being inspired by her, or for the sake of spiting her, he wasn’t letting Gilly go in instead of him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Just open the bloody door already …”

Wordlessly, Koey produced a key on a necklace and unlocked the cell door. After the blacksmith walked inside, she closed it behind him.

“I am sorry, brave sir.” She informed him regretfully. “But for the sake of our safety I need to lock this behind you.”

He sighed. It made sense, but still didn’t bode well for him.

“That was really brave of you to offer to go in his place.” Dungar overheard Rose quietly say to Gilly.

“Not really.” Her sister responded. “I just knew there was no way he’d let himself be showed up by a woman.”

Once he entered its domain, the marbalt stood up straight and spread its arms almost in a wrestling stance, continuing to face him as he slowly circled it. He couldn’t be sure due to its lack of facial features, but he was pretty sure the creature was sizing him up.

Hoping to catch it off guard, he reared back and threw his iron hammer directly at its head. Almost lazily, the creature deftly caught the hammer. It examined the tool for a moment before its face split in half and ate it whole. Dungar stared at the creature, mouth agape, before turning back to the women.

“Try not to hit it in the face!” Rose called to him. “Its jaws can crush steel!”

“Where am I supposed to hit it then?!”

“Focus on the torso!” She pointed to her midsection. “It’s hollow and comprised of a more brittle mineral than the head and limbs!”

He turned away from her back to the marbalt. The torso did appear to be more weathered looking, and after seeing a solid iron hammer crushed so easily he didn’t feel comfortable putting his fists anywhere near the creature’s block of a head.

Heart beginning to beat faster, and breaths becoming more frequent, Dungar slowly inched towards his opponent with his hands at the ready. The marbalt’s arms swung ominously back and forth seemingly ready to strike at a moment’s notice. The cold, faceless head eerily watched him as he stepped side to side, psyching himself up to strike.

“Just do it …” He grunted to himself. “Just do it …”

Bending his knees and leaning forward, Dungar threw a jab towards the dead center of the marbalt’s torso. Two stony arms immediately swung forward and deflected his arm while another gave him a hard slap to the side of his helmet. A loud clang rang out in the cell causing the spectators to grimace and the blacksmith to stagger sideways, ears ringing. Once he regained his footing, he returned a blind wild haymaker to the side of his opponent’s square head. The blow did negligible damage, but sufficiently upset the marbalt’s balance giving Dungar enough time to regain his equilibrium.

Once he was righted, he once again went for the punch to the midsection. And once again found his arm deftly deflected and a loud bang inches away from his right ear. Every reach of his within the creature’s range was fruitless; there were simply too many arms to contend with. Having only two of his own, even fake swings weren’t enough of a distraction to create a suitable opening.

Soon the heavy iron gauntlets began to weigh on his arms. His swings became even slower and more sluggish than before. He may as well have been moving in slow motion for how easily his opponent could counter his shots.

“Mister Dungar!” Rose hissed to him, touching his shoulder through the bars. “Have you ever read the Chronicles of Gundar Stoneslayer?”

“Of course I haven—” Dungar began. “Wait, who?”

“Gundar Stoneslayer! He was a famous marbalt boxer. When I first heard your name I thought you were him because your names are kinda similar. Anyway, in this book it is said—”

After hearing the name Gundar Stoneslayer, anything else Rose had to say did not reach the blacksmith. He never knew much about his father’s past, never really cared either. However, he did always wonder how the man managed to own such a large building and well equipped smithy. Gundar Loloth was the most hardened man he had ever known, his handshake was so firm it killed a guy once, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man did used to kill these beasts for sport. If that was indeed the case, then he wasn’t going to let himself be beaten down by one.

“… and then after he did that apparently it would leave their defenses open enough to strike.” Rose finished. “Did you get all that? Did it help?”

“Sure.”

With gritted teeth and cracked knuckles, Dungar approached the marbalt once more. He opened with a fake left jab. The creature took the bait and went for the counter swing. He then reared back for a right cross. He then stopped short once more as he watched another wild counter swing drift through the air. Knowing it was coming, he then ducked under the inevitable slap that had gotten him so many times before. Now was his time to strike. With a deep breath, he lunged forward to drive an uppercut into his opponent’s chest. However once again he found his arm swatted away and another slap colliding with his head.

Dungar lay on the ground and groaned for a moment before getting back to his feet. His ears were ringing and he was having a bit of trouble focusing his eyes. His helmet looked pretty worse for wear too. Even through the persistent tinnitus, he could hear the even more persistent voice of Rose trying to inform him of one thing or another.

“No no, mister Dungar, you forgot there part where he—”

“I DON’T CARE IF MY DAD WAS A BOXER!”

“Uh … what?”

With a roar of rage, he ripped off the gauntlet on his right hand and hurled it at the marbalt. Once again the creature caught it and ate it, pausing briefly as it slowly managed to crush the thick knuckled part. During the chewing he charged at the creature, dropping to his knees and sliding under the swinging arms. Once he made contact, he wrapped his arms around its thin rocky thighs then used his own to lift it off the floor and high into the air. Small chunks of debris from his ground up glove trickled down onto his face as he spun around, still holding his heavy encumbrance. Now facing the center of the room, he took one last deep breath then power-bombed the heavy hunk of slag into the ground where its torso shattered into a million tiny pieces of rubble.

Gasps and declarations of surprise were heard from outside the cell. Pieces of the powderized marbalt wriggled their last as the cell door clicked and screeched its way open. Hiding the key necklace back in her cleavage, Koey rushed to Dungar’s side to help him up.

“That was quite an interesting tactic.” Rose mused as she stepped into the cell. “But props for effectiveness!”

“We can celebrate later.” Gilly interrupted. “We’re in the cell now, Rosie. Where’s the exit?”

“Ok ok hold on.” Rose waved her off as she put two fingers to her forehead, trying to recall the next verse. “Uhm … When filled with dread, hop into bed, then pull the thread, to not be dead.”

“… That’s a pretty dark children’s book.” Koey pointed out as she walked over and climbed into the bed. “Where’s this thread it’s talking about?”

“I’m not sure.” Rose admitted as she joined her. “Stupid book, sacrificing coherent instructions for the sake of rhyming!”

“Maybe it’s not actually on the bed itself.” Gilly offered, climbing in next to them. “I think I see something on the ceiling up here.”

Dungar didn’t even bother searching as the three girls tore the bed apart in their own way. The term bed was a very loose description for the particular piece of furniture they were in. It seemed to resemble a coffin more than anything else. It had wooden sides all the way around and the inside contained nothing but straw that Koey ripped apart during her search for a thread.

Leaning on the foot of the bed watching the mayhem, Dungar noticed a nearly invisible strand of fishing line affixed to the corner of the box. Feeling it with his fingers, he looked around to see identical strands at each corner of the bed as if it were being suspended in midair. He then looked back to Gilly, who was balanced on the side of the bed reaching as high as she could for a small metal hook that dangled from the ceiling.

“Uhh …” He began, but not quickly enough. Before he could form a sentence, Gilly grasped the hook and pulled. Immediately, the four wires severed and the bed plunged into a pit that had been hidden beneath it. The sudden fall sent both her and Dungar tumbling into the box, knocking down the other two girls as well. Upon landing, they were a heap of tangled bodies groaning and attempting to wriggle free.

“Get your foot out of my face, Dungar!”

“How do you know that’s my foot?”

“Because your shoe is bigger than my head!”

“Uh, guys? Are we moving?”

Everyone stopped for a moment, then began to wriggle even harder so they could see what was going on. Dungar braced his feet against the bottom of the box and pushed himself into a standing position, letting everyone else fall away around him. Once he was upright, he felt something smack him in the forehead. Crouching and rubbing his face, he looked overhead to see ceiling beams flying by him. Turning his head forward, he felt a cool breeze on his face as the former bed of cell number twenty eight now rolled through a small tunnel down a railroad track steadily picking up pace.

“Cool!” The voice of Rose called out, having surfaced from the dogpile. “This is completely safe, right?”

“I have no idea.” Koey grumbled, rubbing her face. “What did your children’s book have to say about it?” She added sarcastically.

“Actually now that you mention it, the next verse does make more sense now. ‘Rather than hide, keep hands inside, go for a ride, murder denied.’”

“These tracks don’t look like they’ve been very well maintained.” Gilly pointed out.

Barely clinging to the tracks as it raced around corners, the bed cart shook violently on the bumpy and unkempt terrain. Rose and Koey wrapped themselves around Dungar’s body as the blacksmith clung to the sides for dear life.

“Slow it down!” Koey screamed, eyes closed tight as she clung to Dungar.

“How in the blazes do you expect me to do that?!”

“I don’t know, just do it!”

He looked around wildly. The tunnel they currently raced through was almost pitch black. All he could make out was the faint blur of the walls as they flew past him in a blur. Even if he could manage to grab something it would probably tear his arms off. They air that blew into his face was thick and stuffy, and occasional dust piles falling from the ceiling kept hitting him in the face. All he could do was bow his head and raise his arms to protect himself and the girls.

“Rosie!” The scared voice of Gilly called out in the darkness. “Do you know where this is taking us?”

“No!” Rose called back. “The next verse just goes ‘roll down the line, compress your spine, exit the mine, close to the shrine.’”

“The mine close to the shrine!?” Koey jumped in. “That’s probably the Alka Mine near the shrine to my grandfather. But that was boarded up decades ago.”

“And what does compress your spine mean?” Gilly added.

“DUCK!!!” Dungar yelled as he saw the obscured light at the end of the tunnel.

At the behest of the blacksmith, all four hit the deck in the fetal position. Even through their closed eyes their vision became flooded with daylight as the mine cart smashed into the wooden barricade. Broken chunks of plank shot in all directions as the wrecked cart flew off the rails and began tumbling down the dirt hill in front of the mine entrance, ejecting its four passengers.

Fortunately for Dungar and the ladies, the ground they became forcefully acquainted with was relatively soft topsoil that absorbed much of their impact. However, the hill was steep and their momentum was great. Each one of them did several flips and somersaults before inevitably coming to a stop in the meadow at the bottom.

“That was awesome!” Rose’s voice rang out somewhere nearby. “I bet you we could sell tickets to that and make a fortune!”

“Oh, Rosie …” Her sister chuckled.

“Oh hello, Queen Koey.” A foreign voice greeted. “I figured you would be showing up sooner or later.”

Dungar pulled his face from the dirt and pried his body from the ground, curious to see who would be that nonchalant about seeing the most powerful woman in all the land come crashing out of a hole in it.

Sitting in the middle of the meadow in a large chair, holding a goblet of wine and lazily reading Gloating Effectively for Dummies, was the familiar long scraggly brown hair and smug chiseled face of Rainchild Earthumper.