“Jonathon, my sweet. Jonathon Little Tack. And, by the bells, what is your name?” The small gentleman bowed lightly, doffing his flowered hat with casual ease. “Your name, little sweet?”
“My name is Bobby, Mr. Tack.” Bobby said, trying to return the magnificent bow clumsily.
“Oh come, come, my little friend of whom the world refers to as Bobby, you shall call me Jonny-jump-up or just straight Tackle, I would prefer the former, not the latter, although, the former has never won me anything, where as the latter most definitely has. So yes. Never Mister Tack, very crude indeed.” The small gentleman replaced his hat, smoothing his long fingers over the creases on his baby bluebird jacket, meticulously ironed to perfection. He found a small bit of lint freckling his trouser pant, and bent over to flick it off like an errant insect. As he bent over, Bobby saw the glimmer of faint gossamer wings glittering in the early sunlight among the trees.
“What are you doing, Tackle?” Bobby asked meekly, feeling odd without using a Mister or a Sir. Momma always told him to use Misters and Sirs with his elders, it showed respect.
“I am out for a walk upon this fine morning, upon the hills and trees and among the flowers and bowers and bills, singing my song of sixpence and a for a pocket full of rye, finding such happenstance to wander my wanderings across the path of Bobby, playing as he is, among the old mossy trees, among the brackish creek, among the tall grassy weeds. What games do you play, Bobby?” The odd gentleman said.
“I am just playing with my toys, sir. Waiting for my mom to get back from the grocery store. If I see any strangers I am supposed to go inside with my gramma.” Bobby acted like he was gathering his toys, a bright red dinosaur and a battered blue truck that used to be his daddy’s.
“Oh hosh posh and nonsense, my little friend. My courteous friend, indeed. I like you, Bobby. You are a man in a body of a boy, a strong man waiting to conquer the world. You are a conqueror, Bobby! A man of desired intent, nay, of action! Indeed, I like you so much, I offer a gift.”
“What kind of gift?” Bobby asked, narrowing his eyes shrewdly while holding his toys tightly. He had seen his momma squint like that, and it always made people tell the truth. He was only eight, but he wasn’t stupid.
Gifts were dangerous things.
******
“Sergeant Macklin! Package!” The idiot from comms yelled out, pulling Macklin from his daze. “It fell into a box of my gear from yesterday’s delivery, sorry.”
The flatfoot had a plain shoebox sized parcel that obviously had been opened and re-wrapped and tossed it to Macklin clumsily. Macklin caught it deftly, the eagerness in his chest welling enough that he felt he had to push it down. He couldn’t let his unit see his excitement in a care package from his wife and kid back home. He carefully tucked it under his arm, and excused himself back to his bunk. It was hot as ever living fuck outside, but at least the barracks would be quiet, oven or not. Afghanistan was not hell, but he would swear that he could see it from his outpost station. The boys of his unit were sticking to the shade, trying to pass the time of a miserable day in a miserable place, and here he was getting an awesome surprise from home. He smiled anyway.
“Sarge, wipe it off.” Simms, one his boys, called out.
“Yeah, yeah, clean your gun.” Macklin replied as he headed indoors. Discipline was lax at the Outpost, he would have to address it sooner or later.
He sat down on the edge of his bunk, and opened the package. On top was a letter, underneath, some pictures and a couple packages of mixed nuts and candy from home. One picture was of his beautiful wife Lori, and the second was of Bobby, holding two of his favorite toys, the T-rex and the Dumptruck. Bobby already looked bigger and Macklin had only been on deployment for four months. He opened the letter and read it slowly, savoring the flowing cursive of his wife’s hand.
When he was done he read it again. And again.
He was so zoned into the letter and the pictures that first shots that rang out completely passed his consciousness by.
“CONTACT! CONTACT! CONTACT!” One of his guys yelled from outside, as a mortar exploded nearby.
Macklin dropped his package on his bunk, shoving the picture of Bobby into his pocket and ran for the door.
******
“Why, my little friend, the best gift there is to give. A gift of welcome respite from the evils of death and destruction. This very moment, the universe conspires against you and I. It works to undo our happiness. My happiness to provide succor against the darkness of this world, and against your happiness of playing out in the beautiful world, enjoying the father sun, and mother earth, and in all ways finding your path to the next adventure. For that is my gift, young Bobby… an adventure! Nay. A quest!” Jonny-jump-up or Tackle said, his long fingers brushing the edges of his hat, fluffing the flowers and feathers at its ridges. In the distance, a bell rang mourningly.
“A quest? Like what a knight does to save a lady and fight a dragon?” Bobby’s eyebrows went up. He loved those kinds of stories. The ones his daddy told him were always the best.
“Dragons? Droll beasts indeed. They do nothing but lay about and complain on the state of the stars, and the conflagration of the planets, and pretend to tell the future. Dragons are idiots, Bobby. I have much better things in mind, my friend. Much better things. You will seek something great, lose something sacred, and gain something special. Does such a quest sound worthy of your time? Does it merit your word?” Tackle swept his hand across his shoulder, a flickering of gossamer wing fanning suddenly outwards in otherworldly body language Bobby lacked the capacity to understand.
“I do love stories. Will I be home in time for dinner?” Bobby said tentatively. “Do you promise?”
“A promise is a special thing for my kind, young man. I will be glad to promise, but you will have to make a promise in kind.”
“Ok.” Bobby nodded.
The strange little man clapped once, grinning wildly. “Splendid. I promise, by bough and rack, salt and sack, that I, Jonathon Little Tack, by all my living mothers and dead fathers that I will bring you home by dinner.”
“Safe and sound, by dinner.” Bobby added.
Jonathon frowned, and through his grimace added, “By all my living mothers and dead fathers that I will bring you home by dinner, safe and sound. I promise these things in return for a promise, and if it fails, then my own shall fail.”
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like, my little clever friend. If you fail to keep your promise, then my promise is forfeit. Home by dinner perhaps, but not safe, or sound.” The little man lifted a lip, sharp pointed teeth gleaming in the sun. “But your promise, Bobby-friend-of-Jon, is that you will promise to meet the challenges with all your might and not back down.”
Bobby thought of his daddy. His daddy was big and strong, and always brave. Bobby wanted to be like him.
“I promise.”
“Splendid. Then let us get started! Head to the tree at the end of this field. Among the roots, you will find an opening. In the opening, and this is important, you will find a door. This is your door. Beyond it something great, to lose something sacred, but to gain something special. You have promised to rise to the meet your challenge… so rise, my little friend, and do your best!”
Bobby stood carefully and put his truck in one pocket and his red dinosaur in the other. He set his chin and walked into the field towards the tree in the distance. A promise is a promise. He didn’t look back to see if Tackle followed.
If he had, the fairy would not have been there anyway.
******
A round ricocheted off a nearby brick wall, and many more hit the sandbags in rapid succession. Macklin dove towards his gear, almost rolling into his armor hard enough to bruise his ribs. His men had already buttoned up, and were trying to return fire. The staccato bursts of rifle fire sounded off from around the outpost. He pulled on his vest and shouldered his rifle.
“Sitrep!” He yelled at Simms. Simms, Deigo, and Tex were braced against the nearest wall, checking their gear while Tex attempted to clear sand from their side of the bunker. A mortar must have landed right in front of the bags.
“Six, maybe seven. Two squads best we can tell. They have a really good sniper, he took out tower first, then our comm antenna. The flatfoot is down too. He took one to the head. He was dead before he hit the ground, sir.”
“Fuck. Did Milo check in before comms were lost?” Macklin yelled inadvertently. The adrenline had hit, and his senses felt dialed up to eleven.
“No, Sarge.” Tex yelled in response. “Milo and his squad aren’t due back for another hour anyway.”
“Goddammit, I know that. Setup positions. We have to hold.”
Meanwhile, another mortar hit the bags and shrapnel rang off their humvee like it was the world’s biggest gong. The RPG that hit it a few seconds later was a crescendo at a concert that Macklin did not want to be in attendance for.
He shouldered his rifle over the crease in the bags and tried to sight in whoever was trying to kill him and his team.
******
The tree was old. And big. And looked like something out of a fairy tale, Bobby thought. He looked over the old gnarled trunk of the monster at the end of the field, and sure enough, nestled at the base of the roots, hidden deep in the old moss and tall grass, was a wooden door made of small planks, bolted with rusted iron, and banded at the top and bottom with brass. The door handle was crystal of all things, and the light that hit it was reflected into a myriad of rainbows across the surrounding dirt and roots.
Bobby put his hand onto the door handle, twisted it gently, and pushed the door open. Bobby thought the door way was far too small for him to fit through, but as he bent down to look through the doorway, he realized it wasn’t too small after all. He could crawl through easily on his hands and knees. The inside of the tree was not dark, or even scary, really. It wasn’t even the inside of a tree.
He could see a forest beyond the door. An old forest where the trees stood like old men arguing over the weather, the sun was not shining, but it was not dark either, it was a halflight, a twilight that was like an early fall evening. Bobby crawled through the opening without hesitation, and looked back at the doorway, noticing it looked the same from the other side. In fact there were other doors in other trees, all of them unique in their own way. Dark shapes hung from some of the trees. They looked like scarecrows spinning on ropes.
Bobby was not old enough to understand what a hung corpse looked like, of course. So he marked it up as a cheap scare, like a sheet on a wire or a scary mask at the store. He patted his pockets feeling his toys comfortably against his legs, and the door behind him slowly, quietly closed.
Bobby heard something like the sound of bees in the air, and an arrow thunked into the wood beside him.
“The next one will be bulging from your neck, thief.” An ugly voice called out.
Bobby raised his hands over his head. “I am not a thief!”
“That is what a thief would say.”
“I am Bobby!”
“I do not know what a bobby is, but it sounds like a thief.” The nasty voice continued. “A dirty, sick, evil thief that steals my things and touches my things and ruins all things. Thiefs are thieves, thieves are thiefs, and methinks they are a bobby.”
A crouching, hunched withered thing of a man in a mishmash of clothing came around from one of the trees and looked Bobby from head to toe. His skin was the blue of something cold and sick, with red eyes hidden among the many folds on his face, perched above a nose that was longer than cucumber. On his head he wore a red stocking cap that covered a mess of individual wiry hairs disheveled and partially hiding the long pointed ears that hung limply on the sides of its head. It was downright ugly.
Bobby thought he would be scared of such a creature, but he remembered his promise, and the fear was never close.
“I am not a thief. My momma tells me stealing is wrong.” Bobby said honestly.
The thing pinched one eye closed and pulled on his bow string regardless. “You… are… a… THIEF,” it shrieked.
Bobby dove sideways for the nearest tree trunk and the next arrow hit the tree behind where he had been standing.
“And you are mean!” Bobby shouted in response.
“I am a goblin, you stealer. All goblins are mean. If you meet a nice goblin, it is because it is dead and should be buried,” the thing spit.
“What could I steal anyway?” Bobby asked from behind his tree.
“Oh he speaks of things he pretends not to know. Like you do not know that my greatest treasure is in the tower behind us? That you do not know that you are coming to steal it! That you act all innocent, when you are seeking to take what is mine. And I stole it fair and squarish.” The goblin boiled. “You are meat! Let me spit you!”
Another arrow hit a tree. The goblin screeched in frustration.
“I am not going to steal anything!” Bobby said.
“Liar!” The goblin yelled as he let another errant arrow fly.
Bobby grabbed a nearby rock and threw it with all his might at the goblin’s head. He was a Southern boy, so he knew how to chuck a rock. Any boy from farm country worth their salt knew how to toss something small and heavy. The rock spun and tumbled, as if in slow motion, and struck the goblin in the eye with a sickening wet thump. The beast grabbed its eye and howled, cursing and spitting, gnashing its teeth.
“It serves you right. You wouldn’t listen.” Bobby said.
“By myrtle and thyme, I will murderize you.” The goblin cursed.
******
Macklin pulled his trigger again and again, and saw the shape in the distance finally flip a hand into the air and then drop. Another was taken out by Deigo, and the third must have already retreated or had been hit by a stray round. The sound of gunfire, so pervasive before, left a hallow empty silence hanging heavily over the fire team. All four of them were still alive, although Tex’s helmet had a new deep dent that would have meant death if the caliber had been any larger or his head had been turned slightly to the left.
“Either there is another group out there waiting for us or we miscounted.” Tex spoke hesitantly.
Simms grunted. “Or they killed themselves with that cheap russian shit they were using. My heart tells me to keep praying, but my gut tells me to keep spraying.”
“I have Milo on the line, sir.” Deigo called out. “They are under heavy fire, calling for backup.”
“Well… now we know where the other team is headed.” Tex sighed.
“How far out?” Macklin asked.
“The village.” Deigo replied.
“Mother fucking bullshit.” Macklin sighed.
“With the long range down, we are their only support.” Simms frowned. “And they are going to get pinned.”
“Yep.” Macklin agreed. “But that is not why I am pissed.”
“Why then?” Tex asked.
“Because our ride with our large caliber intimadator is burning on our front lawn, boys.” Macklin said and pointed at the ruined humvee sitting twisted in the sand. “We are walking. Grab what you need, put your plates on… and Tex, please grab a new helmet.”
“Awwww, but I like this helmet, Sarge.”
“Tough. I need your brains to stay in your skull.”
Simms laughed. “That is not a problem for Tex, Sarge. His brains are located elsewhere.”
******
Bobby picked up another rock. “I hit you once, I can do it again.”
“You miserable brat. Fine. Go steal my things. I will find you. You know that, right?” Its hands were covering his mangled eye.
“Maybe, maybe not. But I know my arm works and your eye doesn’t.” Bobby said defiantly.
The goblin spat again and slowly dissolved into the dark of the misty forest around him. His voice rang out one last time from farther away.
“You watch your back; you watch it. I will be in a shadow with somethin’ sharp, I promise you.”
Bobby held tight to the rock with his arm half way cocked. He walked slowly to the tree that the goblin slid behind, and jumped around the side of it quickly, but there was nothing to surprise except more dirt and rocks. He slowly lowered his arm, but did not release his impromptu weapon.
He looked left and right, and noticed the path leading off through the trees. A light in the distance seemed to flicker and wave, beckoning him onwards. He patted his pockets, feeling the familiar shape of his favorite toys against his legs, and walked carefully through the darkness. His ears would play tricks on him as he strolled, something like whispers in the dark, muffled and hidden. Occasionally, the sound of a far off bird made a horrible caterwauling, its voice rolling, bouncing, and echoing in strange ways.
The walk to the tower was not as long as he had thought it would be, the distance stretched and shrank at it’s own will if he didn’t pay attention. The tower was made of white stone, compressed from the corpses of angel bones, while the bolts were forged from the tears of demons. Bobby did not know such things, but the tower carried the sense of such things, so on some level, he intuitively knew the tower was both dangerous and necessary. He put his hand out tentatively and knocked on the large brass bound wood door.
A female voice from within replied quickly. “Who knocks on my door?”
“My name is Bobby,” Bobby said, quickly adding, “I am on a quest.”
“A quest for what?”
“To face a challenge. Jonathon Little Tack sent me.”
“Did he now?” The voice replied. A smile was in it, nesting within like a bird.
“He told me to find something special and lose something…” Bobby faltered. He could not remember what Jonny had told him. It felt so very long ago already.
“You will seek something great, lose something sacred, and gain something special.” The voice replied.
“That’s right.” Bobby said.
“You have found something very great indeed. This is the Tower of Lost Dreams.”
“So I just need the other two.”
“I wouldn’t be in a hurry, Bobby. The other two could be pain and death. Losing your life is sacred, and at the same time, gaining visibility of the afterlife would be something special.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think that sounds good.”
“That is a fair assessment. I have been dead myself, and it is no fun.” The woman’s voice sounded sad.
******
“Sarge, you are telling us to march over sand in a hundred degree heat to a firefight that is already happening?” Simms intoned dryly.
“That about sums it up. We can rent a donkey.” Macklin replied sarcastically.
“What about Broken Bessie?” Tex said.
“Shit son, that broke ass piece of shit hasn’t ran for weeks. Dead battery, remember?” Deigo said.
Macklin grinned. “We have a battery. Its in the humvee.”
“If it is intact. Those RPGs blew her to shit.” Deigo groaned.
“Only one way to tell. I am going to go for it. Deigo you are going with me, grab the bag. Tex, Simms, you are providing cover. If I so much as hear an AK bark at me, I am going to be pissed.”
“Don’t stress it, Sarge. We got it covered.” Simms said, acting insulted.
“Let’s move out.” Macklin nodded.
******
“I am the Lady of the Tower of Lost Dreams.” The Lady said upon opening her heavy door to greet Bobby.
“Nice to meet you, Ma’am.” Bobby replied. The Lady was beautiful in every single way that an eight year old boy could understand. Unfathomably beautiful to the point that she was no longer human.
“Jonny Jump Up must have thought of you highly to send you on such a quest. Quests are dangerous things, little one. Their rewards are always representative of the risk involved. If your reward was small, then your risk must have been small. You seek something precious, so that means that you must risk many things in return. It must be equivelant. Do you understand?”
Bobby nodded slowly, trying to think through her words carefully. “I understand.”
“Good. Now. This tower is a waypoint of sorts. I give two choices to any one that comes to my door. Fight for my honor or hang from the trees.”
“Hang like a jungle gym?” Bobby asked hopefully.
The Lady laughed merrily. “No my sweet. They hang by their necks. Dead.”
“Oh.”
“So, will you fight for my honor?”
“Yes.” Bobby said without hesitating.
“Good. I will take payment for the honor.” The Lady held out her white hand, her long fingers waiting expectantly. They were almost spider like, weaving and bobbing of their own accord.
“Uh, I don’t have money, Ma’am.” Bobby said worriedly.
“Nonsense. Money, pah! You have many things you can pay with. A finger perhaps? A memory? All the color blue you will ever see? It can be anything of value. As long as the value is appropriate.”
Bobby patted his pockets and felt his Dad’s truck from when he was a boy. It was his most prized possession, it should be worth more than anything. He pulled it slowly from his pocket and put it in the Lady’s hand. Her eyes sparkled as she held it, closing her long fingers over it slowly, savoring the feel of it in her hand.
“Oh, yes. This is very expensive indeed. You honor me greatly, little one.” The Lady said happily.
“Who do I have to fight?” Bobby asked.
“Oh, it was I, upon gifting me something poor. However, you passed brilliantly. Your reward is the way out of my tower, and safe passage through my woods. You are the first to make such passage in a very long time. Also, some advice… for free, of course.”
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“The one-eyed goblin will hunt you after you leave my realm. You must be wary.”
“I will.”
“Then be on your way, little Bobby. Safe travels to gain something special, although you may have to lose more of yourself along the way.”
“I can handle it.” Bobby replied.
“I know it.” The Lady nodded in agreement.
******
“The battery is still hot, boss.” Deigo said, smiling ear to ear as he chucked the multimeter back into his bag.
“Great. Let’s hustle back.” Macklin said. “Just because no one took a potshot at us on the way over doesn’t mean we won’t be as lucky on the way back.”
“Has anyone told you that you are no fun?”
“It has been mentioned in the past.” Macklin said. “Let’s move.”
They moved as low as they could, ducking from cover to cover. Some cover was sandbags stacked around the base, others were concrete barriers to control parking for the motor pool. Deigo had both of his hands under the battery, so Macklin tried to stay frosty and keep his eyes on the angles from each firing spot. He thought they were in the clear when a divot of concrete appeared next to his head and he was sprayed by sharp bits of masonry and gravel.
“DOWN!” Macklin yelled at Deigo. The shot rang out a second later. There was a sniper nearby… probably on a Dragunov 7.62. They were reliable, but a bit shaky at longer distances, which had just saved his ass. Deigo was pushing the battery ahead of him in the dirt, trying to slide with behind it like an impatient snake. Another chip went flying from nearby and the shot rang out again.
“GODDAMMIT! SIMMS, YOU ARE GETTING DOCKED!” Macklin yelled.
“Sorry, Sarge! Trying to find it now. I swear I didn’t see anyone!” Simms yelled back from the forward position. Macklin and Deigo either had to find a way to run across thirty feet of open ground or pray to the great god above that Simms had the wherewithal to do something about it. Another shot rang out, however, this one was much closer. American close.
“Deigo, let’s go!” Macklin grabbed the battery himself and pushed himself up running for the edge of the bags. Deigo stood up two seconds later and ran behind, his gun out in front of him like a spear. Tex was at the edge of the bags as they rounded the corner.
“I think Simms scared him off, because honestly, his aim sucks and there is no way he made a hit.” Tex drawled.
“Fuck you. I aim just fine and that dude is giving handjobs to his ancestors as we speak.” Simms replied from the hut. Tex let a rare smile stretch across his face.
“We will find out soon enough. Tex, get this battery loaded in Broken Bessie. You two boneheads help me load her up with everything we might need.” Macklin said.
“Think I have time to mount a tripod for the 240 in the back?” Tex said.
“No. We got to move. Take what we can as quick as we can hustle. If you want to load the 240, be my guest, but you are carrying it.” Macklin replied.
“Sir, yes, sir.” Simms added sarcastically.
“Simms, you are an asshat.” Macklin rolled his eyes.
“Thank you sir!” Simms grinned, saluting poorly.
******
The bodies swung among the tall trees, carried on unseen breezes as Bobby walked away from the Tower of Lost Hope. He looked over his shoulder as he walked away, a hand in his empty pocket, and saw the Lady raise a hand in farewell from a lit window far above. Bobby raised his free hand in response.
A part of him was sad that he had lost his truck, but for some reason, he felt better about giving it away. The Lady had thought it was a treasure among treasures, and Bobby knew she would take great care of his Daddy’s truck. She had looked at it as if she loved it just as much as he did.
He tripped a little on a tree root on the path. He didn’t see the tree move, but the path that had been flat was full of roots. He took another step and tripped full length towards the ground. Not far off a scream of anguish rent the air, and a black arrow stood quivering in a nearby trunk.
“You miserable brat! You nasty dirty little monster gave the Lady a gift, didn’t you?! Curse you! Curse your existence! I will put something sharp in you, you little trash heap.” The angry voice called out. “As soon as you leave this forest, you are out of her care. She can’t protect you.”
Bobby felt a wave of anger rush over him. He stood up and defiantly called out in the misty twilight between the trunks trying to think of the best insult he could.
“Goblin, you’re a pile of shit-covered rats! Leave me alone!” Bobby yelled.
“You steal my things!”
“I have not stolen anything, you dummy!” Bobby retorted in disbelief.
“You stole the Lady’s heart! She protects you instead of me. You have killed me and you don’t even know it.”
“Then go die already,” Bobby mumbled halfheartedly. It felt bad to say it and he didn’t know why. He hoped the goblin didn’t hear.
The Goblin stayed silent.
******
Broken Bessie roared to life, the engine turning over with a belch of black smoke pouring out her cracked exhaust stack.
“This has to be the oldest pile of shit in Afghanistan, sir,” Deigo remarked candidly.
“As long as she rolls and she doesn’t step on any IEDs, she is my favorite pile of shit.” Macklin replied. “Let’s roll.”
Macklin hammered the top of the cab, and Simms thumped back with his foot against the cab. Simms was lying in the armored bed, the short tripod hooked into the cargo boxes. He looked down the sight of the large machine gun, just waiting for someone to make a bad choice and open fire on a retreating vehicle. It would very likely that would be the last choice they ever made.
Deigo stomped the accelerator, making the beast lurch forward, rocking in the front bench seat all by himself. In the back seat of the small cab, Tex readied his firearm, covering the left flank. Macklin had his own covering the right. Hopefully this was going to be a short ride. Hopefully, they wouldn’t see or hear anything until they roared into the village like an oncoming wave. Hopefully, hopefully, Milo’s squad would last that long.
Deigo yanked the wheel hard to the right at the sound of rounds hitting the panels on the right. Tex shook his head.
“Told you Simms missed,” he said.
“Just go, go, go.” Macklin slapped Deigo’s shoulder.
Deigo kept his foot down working his way through the gears as Bessie pulled away from the base. Sand and rocks rang from inside the wheel wells and another bullet sang against the cab. In the distance, the sun slanted through smoke rising from the squat stone structures of the village.
“Into the fire…” Tex said.
“Well the pan sucked anyway.” Deigo replied as Simms opened up with the 240. The heavy iron belched round after round into the ugly scrub covered hills behind.
******
The Goblin didn’t pop out from behind any more trees as Bobby moved forward down the path. He had been timid at first, but things did not seem as scary as they had before. The fog was clearing, the trees were getting smaller, and the path seemed to be widening, slowly turning into a bricked road. The bricks were huge, each was the size of a bathroom rug, but they were at odd angles, some were set on edge, others were slanted like small slides. The paved road looked like it had been hit by an earthquake, disheveling everything at random. In the distance, the road evened out, leading towards two castles facing each other over a small wasteland between. Bobby kept an eye looking backwards towards the forest, and the tower with the small lit window far above, but nothing moved except the birds that occasionally took flight.
It is funny how a walk can turn any experience into the mundane. Bobby felt as if he was walking to school, the comfortable feeling of his dinosaur in his pocket, and the slight breeze making the grass on either side of him sing a melancholy song. There still was no sunlight, just the perpetual twilight, as if this part of the world was stuck between sun up and sun down, never figuring out which direction it should go.
The castles loomed. Dark things moved among their parapets and Bobby heard the calls of crows.
******
“Almost there, boss.” Deigo said. “I think I see where Milo is holed up.”
“Why do you say that?” Macklin asked. He slid forward in his seat and squinted out the cracked windshield.
“You see the smoke? Its definitely coming from the convoy. But the buildings to the right have people swarming all over them. I bet they are holed up on one side.”
“Pull wide, we go in from the east. There is no way we can punch into the main square with all those people.” Macklin said.
“Boss, we don’t want to fight street to street.” Tex said.
“Yeah, and I don’t want to drive into an ambush with dead vehicles blocking our escape. We have a better chance to pull them from the rear,” Macklin replied. “Tex, get on the horn with Milo, see if he can give us a better fix.”
Deigo pulled Bessie to the right and everyone rocked upwards in their seats as the overworked shocks took the hit from going off road. The engine roared as the gears changed, and Macklin was tossed against the side of the cab.
“Poor Simms,” he muttered.
“Milo says they are in the market alright. They have decent cover, only one of the squad is down. Took a round to the leg, not bad. Will need help to move. Milo said they have their back to a heavy door near their location. He said the door is painted a bright red, can’t miss it. They have their open side barricaded in a firefight. He also says we will have company going that way.” Tex reported.
“Well that is why we came. Let’s get to work.” Macklin said. “Pull in that alley, it will give us cover.”
As they unloaded from Bessie, Simms pulled himself upright slowly, grimacing. Hoisting the 240 from its oversized strap.
“Christ Deigo, you drive like a drunk.”
“No judging.” Deigo replied.
“Stop the chatter. We move towards the market, stay low, use signals. Watch your corners,” Macklin said. “And if for some goddam reason we get seperated, keep moving towards Milo.”
They nodded, and Simms pulled the cocking handle on the 240.
“Yee ha,” he grinned.
******
Bobby looked up as he walked between the castles. No one looked down at him, but he could feel the menace of eyes on him from all sides. The road was barely a road between the two castles, there were trenches dug everywhere, barbed wire fences strung among random poles protruding from the cracked ugly earth like wayward teeth. There were craters stretched between the two castles, with bits of white bones scattered like dice among the debris. This looked like war.
“Its the nasty little Goblin from the tower!” A shout came from the right side.
“Hit it with a rock.” Another shout.
“Hit it with a BIG rock this time.” And another.
A voice called out from the other side. “Its not a Goblin, you idiots.”
“It’s Nottagoblin?” The first voice yelled again. “What is that? Is it squishable? Can we still use our big rocks?”
“You can use your big rocks on yourselves.” The response called out over the no-mans-land.
“You can eat this…” One of the other voices started, never finishing.
There was a crack, a winding up noise, and suddenly a huge rock hurtled over Bobby’s head. It tumbled as if flying slowly and crashed against the castle wall opposite with a resounding earth shaking thud. Bobby flinched as debris of the rock rained down all across the road and field. He ran to the nearest bulging trench and dropped into it.
“Oh, great, we have company.” A voice spoke.
“Stab it.” Another said.
“I would, but my knife is too small. He is a giant.” The first replied.
“Giant, get out of our trench.”
“Its a Nottagoblin, not a giant. Whatever that is.”
Bobby looked around, trying to find the source of the voices. Then he noticed the walls of the trenches were stacked like floors, with holes and doors, and all sorts of ladders and steps among the levels. Little men, all brown and gray stood among the levels, none taller than the length of his hand.
“Ugh, its repulsive. Its all big and swollen,” another said.
“Someone do something. Instead of standing around doing nothing. The Boakins are going to retaliate.”
“They wouldn’t dare charge our position. We have been here for a hundred years already. This is our trench!” One of the little men lifted a shovel to show his resolve.
Another clapped and shouted to his compatriots peeking out of their hideyholes. “This is our trench by holy right. The great god of our Hold has given it to us. We will slaughter them if they come!”
“They won’t come. They never come.” Another said sadly.
“Until they do.”
“That’s right!”
“Boakins and their dirty Boakishness. We are the Glarys and we are strong.”
“Death to Boakins!”
“Long live Glarys!”
The multitude of their voices rang out from all sides. Bobby watched them shake their little swords and spears into the air, yelling and shouting indiscriminately.
“Why are you all fighting?” Bobby asked.
“Because they are wrong. They are always wrong.” One of the near ones shouted.
Another crack and winding up noise, and a huge rock hurtled overhead, this time going the other direction. It hit the other castle, and debris rained down around them. A sizeable chunk hit the side of the trench and a couple of the little men were killed under its crushing weight.
“What are you all?” Bobby asked in horror, watching the little medics rush towards the carnage.
“We are the Glarys, Clan of the Brownies, Children of the Trees.” A voice called in response.
“And who are the bad guys?”
“The Boakins, Clan of Liars, False Children of Nothing, and cheaters… every one of them.”
“So they are like you?” Bobby asked.
“Like us? They are evil. They are heretics. They are animals!” One of the little ones started screaming, frothing at the mouth, slapping his sword against his shield. “I am going to kill them, rip off their arms, and hang my pictures from my walls from their stiff curled fingers!”
“Jeez. You guys are messed up.” Bobby said with wide eyes.
“They are messed up! Get out of our trench!”
“Yeah, you are with them! Get out!”
“Get out!”
“Fine!” Bobby shouted back as he climbed out of the trench and not taking any care on his way out, smashing ladders and squishing mud into the doorways.
He stood back on the road, and noticed that the trenches were everywhere. He walked to the other side of the road and kneeled down to look into the nearest trench.
“Agh! Its the Glarys giant! Tell the castle we need to launch our catapult at it!” A voice called out.
“You idiot. That would hit us!” Another small man hit the first with the flat of his spear blade.
“Why are you all even fighting?” Bobby asked.
“I have no idea. They are the Glarys, Clan of Liars, Children of Absolute Evil. Ask them.”
“I don’t think they would tell me.” Bobby said.
“We are the Boadkins, Clan of the Brownies, Children of the Trees. We don’t have to answer either! Go ask their king in their castle. Maybe he will talk to you. We wouldn’t know. Don’t bother our king.”
“Maybe I will.” Bobby said.
“Maybe he will.” A voice laughed.
“Maybe we will kick you in the teeth.” Another said.
“I haven’t met many Brownies, but you are all terrible.” Bobby said.
******
The gunfire was nearly constant. It was defined by slow, languid pops. There was no urgency to the fighting. The insurgents knew their quarry was pinned. Every minute or so another cascade of gunfire rang out. The sound bounced around the corners in odd ways, sounding closer and farther away at the same time.
Macklin peered around the corner, and saw a red door right where it was supposed to be. Unfortunately, it was covered by at least a dozen. They were stacking explosives against the wall.
“Christ.” Macklin sighed.
“What?” Tex whispered.
“They are going to take down the entire building with Milo’s squad in it,” Macklin whispered. “I see at least twelve, maybe fifteen. We will have a heck of a time taking them out without setting that pile off.”
“Shit.” Simms said.
“You two,” Macklin pointed at Simms and Tex, “get up high on that building if you can. That will give you a sight line all the way down this road. Wave a hand over the wall when you get up there. Deigo and I will draw their fire this way, you light them up. Got it?”
“Got it.” Simms replied.
“And Simms?” Macklin said.
“Yes boss?”
“Please miss the explosives.” Macklin said deadpan.
“Not a problem, sir,” Tex said. “Simms misses everything.”
******
Bobby approached the huge red door and knocked. There was no response. He put his hand out and pushed on the heavy wood, and to his surprise, it swung in with ease. He entered the dark, waiting to hear some protest or to be assaulted by guards, but nothing happened.
The main entry was dark, and full of webs everywhere. The dust on the floor was so think, the stone almost looked like packed earth. Bobby walked tentatively into the great hall, waiting for something to happen, and when nothing did, he felt his shoulders relax a bit.
He walked slowly down the hall. The center of it had a massive oaken table, with benches on either side, at many of the places a skeleton slumped at its spot, with a hand on a goblet or a weapon, a couple were holding books. On the far end, a great throne stood, made of wrought metal, and in it, a king sat.
The king was long dead, his corpse was nothing but bones, dust, and rotting clothes. His crown, missing random jewels, sat cockeyed on the top of the white skull. At the base of the throne, on a jeweled pedestal, a great crystal laid. It glowed and shined, filling the air around it with an effervescent brilliance. Another jewel just like it was in the dead King’s hand. It was as if he gripped it tightly, even in death.
“It was the Boadkin King’s sacred Jewel.” A voice rang out. It was a familiar voice. The voice of the Goblin. “The Glarys King thought he should have both. The Glarys King was a fool though, since those were fakes.”
“Fakes?” Bobby turned quickly, looking for the goblin, but there was nothing to be seen in the hall.
“The Boadkin King switched it with Endingstone. Which killed all of them on both sides. The fakes were too good, and fooled the fakers. Fitting.”
“What are you going to do?” Bobby said.
“I am going to kill you.”
“I would like to see you try.” Bobby pushed out his chest bravely. He laid his hand on the table and grabbed one of the dead men’s knives. It did not make him feel any braver.
“Silly brat. I have a bow, and a quiver of arrows. What do you have? A knife. Pathetic.” The Goblin said.
“I have more than that.”
“Like what?”
“I have something in my pocket.” Bobby admitted.
The Goblin’s voice changed. “Did the Lady give it to you?”
“Maybe. Come take a look.” Bobby squeezed the handle of the knife all the more tightly.
******
Macklin stayed low, and waited for the signal. A few minutes past what he thought it would take, he finally saw a gloved hand poke up over the stone like a surrender flag.
“Set.”
Deigo and Macklin pulled their M4s from rest and laid them on their stone windowsills. They took careful aim down both sides of the street. Deigo pulled the pins on a two frag grenades and held them low.
Macklin held up his hand near his eyes and started counting down from three. At one, Deigo rolled the nades behind two of the nearest chatting about whatever insurgents chatted about when their boss wasn’t looking. The explosion was loud, and covered the first two shots from each of their rifles, dropping two more each.
Macklin started counting off in his head. That was six down. Deigo took two more shots, Macklin then laid a full clip into the street. The rest had dove for cover.
“Down!” Macklin yelled.
The response was fierce. AKs opened up fire, flecks of stone and metal went flying all around them. But that was nothing compared to the noise the was unleashed when Simms started cleaning up with 240. The noise was immense roiling beast chewing the street, and like that, it was over.
“Clear!” Tex yelled from above.
Macklin and Deigo ran for the red door, past the bodies laying among the stones. Deigo tapped Shave and Haircut against the door.
A moment of silence and then the door swung inwards. Milo poked his face out.
“Took you assholes long enough.” Milo said. His face was washed out with relief. The far off gunfire continued regardless. “We are almost out of ammo.”
“Come on.” Macklin grabbed Milo and pulled his shoulder out the door. “Our ride is this way.”
******
His face was uglier than last time. His missing eye had dribbled blackish blood down his face, filling in cracks in his skin all the way down to his long pointed chin.
“The thing about Endingstone is that it carries wishes within it. These two hated each other so much that their own wishes killed them. You should take that stone and wish to die quickly.” The Goblin said with hatred dripping from his words. “What did the Lady give you?”
“This.” Bobby pulled his red dinosaur from his pocket and held it proudly.
“And what is that? I have never seen anything like it.” The Goblin said hesitantly.
“It is my pet… dragon.” Bobby said.
“Dragon? That is an odd looking dragon, its front legs are too short and it is so small. And it does not move.”
“It is frozen in place and will awake when I say a magic word. It will grow and do whatever I tell it.” Bobby tried to sound confident. He probably sounded scared.
The Goblin narrowed his remaining eye and bared his teeth in response, hissing like a snake.
******
They carried Michaels between two of them and slid him carefully into the back of Bessie with Simms laying next to him. They strapped Michaels down as best they could, but the entire ride back to base was going to miserable with a tied off leg wound. They injected pellets into the open wound to staunch the remaining blood flow.
Tex paused as if in thought and then they heard the shot. The bullet passed right under the rim of his helmet and turned his neck into jelly. Tex bobbled for a moment as if his strings were cut, and tipped over dead into a stack of baskets.
“Aw shit man. Shit.” Milo coughed. His jaw disappeared and the second shot rang out. Macklin dove under the truck as Milo hit the ground heavily like a sack of meat. Everyone else was either in Bessie or under cover.
“Sarge! You ok?” Simms yelled from the back.
“Yeah. I think. Yeah. Milo and Tex are gone, sniper took them both.”
Macklin pulled his M4 up his chest and slid out behind Bessie. One of Milo’s guys opened the rear door slowly and Macklin took cover.
“Climb in, Boss.” Diego said.
“If its the same sniper, that Drag he has will go through the glass.” Macklin said.
“So? We go fast.” Diego snapped.
“Yes you will.” Macklin slammed the door and ran towards a nearby doorway. Another shot rang out, but since he as still running and not dead, it must have been a miss.
Deigo turned the engine over and Bessie roared to life. Macklin heard shouts from nearby. He turned and ran back towards the market square. Ducking and weaving to get behind cover. Another shot rang out and piece of road disappeared in front of him, the bullet making a zinging noise as it ricocheted down the street. That means the sniper was trying to take him out and ignoring Broken Bessie as she headed away.
Macklin dove into a nearby store front, crashing into old milk crates full of discarded plastic. He picked himself up, swung his rifle onto his back, and pulled his side arm carefully. He shattered a mirror behind the counter and grabbed a piece glued to the wall. He leaned against the wall, and slid the mirror out of the doorway along the ground, trying to spot the sniper.
And there he was. A bloody bandage over one eye, a disheveled turban wrapped in the mess. He was at the far end of the street, near the market, moving slowly with his rifle pointing in Macklin’s direction. Behind the sniper there were a couple more with rifle’s slung inspecting the dead insurgents.
The Sniper waved his rifle side to side and stopped moving. He didn’t know where Macklin was. More shouts of the locals coordinating, and the Sniper yelled something back. They turned back towards the pile of explosives near the red door. The Sniper yelled something again.
Macklin had to keep moving. He bumped a cabinet, and vase fell to the ground with a crash. The sniper stopped, turned in his direction, and smirked, bringing his rifle to bear.
******
Bobby held his beloved dinosaur out and dropped the knife to the stones. The knife wasn’t him. He couldn’t kill anything. He wasn’t a soldier like his daddy.
“I will give this to you.” Bobby said.
The Goblin kept getting closer with its ugly mouth open, its long teeth bared like a lion. Bobby backed up instinctively, slowly pacing backwards towards the dead king on his dead throne over a dead kingdom.
“I will give you this as a gift if you leave me alone.” Bobby said.
The Goblin did not stop advancing menacingly, as it pulled a long black knife from its belt.
“This is my favoritist thing. And I will give it to you.” Bobby said. His heel hit the pedestal, and the crystal holder wobbled and weaved. Bobby instinctively put his free hand behind him and touched the Endingstone.
Still the Goblin advanced. “Why would you need to give it to me? I can kill you and just take it.”
“I give it to you, because I think you need it.” Bobby said honestly.
The Goblin stopped up short. “What?”
“I met you, you called me a thief. You chased me, calling me a thief. I am going to give you this special thing. Because I am not a thief. And I am sorry I hurt you.”
The Endingstone flashed in his hand, and the hall was filled with blinding light.
******
Macklin cursed. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
He holstered his side arm and felt the picture of his son against his leg. He pulled the picture out and smiled at seeing Bobby sit so happily with his truck and his t-rex. He pulled his M4 up with one hand and slid the picture in the band on his sight. He held his breath, stepped out from the doorway, and…
The world disappeared.
******
The Goblin screamed.
The Dinosaur roared. It was huge, everything that Bobby could have ever imagined. It’s massive bulk filled the Hall, crushing the table, the chairs, and the skeletons beneath it’s hulking clawed toes.
The Goblin’s eyes went wide and it dropped its long knife. Bobby laughed as the Goblin pissed its pants. It turned to run, but his dinosaur swooped down and picked the Goblin up in one bite. It flung its head sideways and the screaming from within it’s jaws stopped abruptly.
His daddy called it a t-rex, but Bobby called it his dinosaur. It turned its head, looked at Bobby, and for all the things that were precious in Bobby’s entire universe, and as he would swear for the rest of his life, the dinosaur smiled at him. His dinosaur. Bobby smiled back with the biggest toothiest grin of his life and nodded.
The flash from between his fingers happened again, and his dinosaur was gone.
******
The explosion had been immense, the entire market went up in a ball of fire. When Macklin rolled over and looked up, everything was gone. The explosion had pushed him right back into the store front, landing among the cushion of discarded plastic.
Everything in the middle of the town was gone. Insurgents, the one eyed sniper… everything. Macklin shook his head to clear the fogginess, and blinked heavily a few times. His ears were ringing brightly still. He probably had a concussion. As the ringing started to fade, he heard the distinctive sound of a heli. Not just any heli.
The one meant for him. His boys must have been able to call out.
He looked around the store front for something. And he saw something funny.
Macklin bent over and picked up a red dinosaur from the piles of old plastic. It looked just like the one his son had. It would be a great gift for Bobby.
He put it into his pocket and turned for his long journey home to his son.