The Gonzo Wolf

Prince Connor Wrath is beyond bored with his royal lifestyle. Receiving nothing but the most mundane tasks in the name of his kingly father, and even less respect than the court jester, he dreams of a life beyond the land of Lynnwood. There’s only one catch: The gods of old have forbade travel past the harbors and inlets of the only land he’s ever known. Who are these gods, where have they gone, and why would they insist on such a questionable boundary? Connor is determined to be the first who defies the laws of the disappeared deities.

What follows is IP of Gonzo Wolf Productions LLC & Chad Cloud-Miller

Chapter Three

3.0

            Life is a merciless, cruel mother. I’ve sat and watched others grow to love the people and places around them, only to be deprived of those things in the blink of an eye. On the other hand, the things I wish would disappear keep gnawing at my soul like some sort of parasite who refuses to burst. This is why I must leave.

            It was a chilly walk to Talia Harbor with only the moonlight to guide my way. The usual evening clouds were nonexistent leaving me no need for torch light. For this, I was thankful. It left me an extra hand to carry the necessities. It was much less of a tip off to anyone curious enough to question my activities. After months of planning, this was truly the last time I’d step foot in Blanchet Castle.

            I’d promised Queen S’Varick I’d return to get her. I’d hoped she would’ve accompanied me from the beginning. Did I really love her, or did I love the adventure that accompanied sneaking around with my father’s wife? Perhaps it was a bit of both but leaning more toward the sneaking part. She’s beautiful; I’d never deny that. Beauty fades, though, and what do you have after all is gone? Perhaps I’d regret not leaving without her. Perhaps I’ll die of longing for her embrace in some unforgiving void.

I left goodbye sentiments for no one. It wasn’t like anyone would care about the methods of my disappearance. Whether that be circumstantial or a kidnapping against my will, my father would throw a false funeral on my behalf so the kingdom could mourn my loss without accusations of royal family foul play. The good King Wrath would jump for joy (if his weight allowed) once he realized I wouldn’t be there to put an envious knife in my brother’s back to steal the throne. I wanted it not. I’m not as regal as some would think me to be.

I truly didn’t care for swinging my sword at the necks of those who’d done nothing wrong. The uprising in Quimper Village was a group of diligent folks who were sick and tired of getting deficated on by the royals. That General Canaby seemed to get off on doing such things in the name of my father, but I’d had enough. I wasn’t a warrior, and the king knew it. I was barely much of a hunter either, but definitely not a warrior. Sleeping on it, I’d come to realize that Canaby was instructed to bring me along on such maneuvers in hopes I’d fall victim to a lucky villager’s frantic slash. He’d cart my lifeless body back to the castle and all would be well in my family’s private hellscape. Perhaps I was doing them all a favor by leaving?

Although I didn’t speak of it much, especially to those who would taunt me for doing so, I’d been looking toward the horizon longingly since old enough to think of my own destiny. No matter how high I would climb in the castle, the windows revealed no signs of life between home and the horizon. Even in the dark of night when such things were noticeable, I never witnessed fire beyond the waters of Lynnwood or a ship skirting the sunset. Most would accept this for the god’s reasoning, but my dreams whispered otherwise. It became more painful as time grew on, and the moment of my departure drew nigh. Tonight, with clear skies as my celestial guide, I would sail beyond the boundaries of Talia Harbor through the Sea of Torrence to discovery or demise. The gods could kiss my leather clad bottom, but I prayed ever so slightly that discovery would arrive before demise. It wasn’t too much to ask.

I say leather clad because I left my heavy armor down in my dungeon hideout. It was too much unwanted weight for the coming adventure and not fashionable for sneaking. What if I found another civilization over the edges of the world and I needed discretion? A bumbling idiot covered in clanging, shiny surfaces isn’t necessarily the most invisible intruder. Whoever I discovered, if anyone, would be just as curious about me as I them. The difference being they might decide violence over diplomacy. Maybe they’ve known about Lynnwood all along but just chose to avoid us. What are the chances that me and mine were the idiots thinking we’re the only souls alive?

The final verdict was that you could ride a horse from the northern part of Lynnwood to the southern tip in a day’s time if you rested strategically. Considering the amount of time it took for the sun to rise, set, and rise again, we were indeed living in a larger world. How ignorant would a person be thinking we were the only inhabitants? I blamed the old scriptures and an irrational fear of invisible beings who may or may not have existed to begin with. If the sky gods were so competent, then why weren’t they here trying to stop me from learning the truth? With luck, I could bring their whole belief system down around everyone’s ears. It wasn’t my only reason for sailing off into nothingness, but that “crashing down around the ears” part sounded pleasant.

I somehow managed to reach my hidden vessel by only stumbling over a handful of large rocks in the well-lit night. I’d have died if typical cloud-cover were present. Talia Harbor was riddled with hazards in the darkness, making it the perfect staging ground for my departure. I’d passed no residents of Quimper Village as I journeyed north but that was to be expected. They wouldn’t dare venture this far from their homes since last night’s beating. It would be a while before any had the nerve to cross beneath the Wall of Graves without fear of execution by the Blanchet Royal Guard. I didn’t blame them, though. General Canaby gave quite the spanking. The intermediaries between the two civilizations would need to change kneecaps once it was all said and done. That’s a lot of unnecessary walking.

Luckily, the makeshift camouflage of leaves and branches I’d placed atop my boat were still in place. No one tampered with the supplies I’d hidden either. Yes, my family despised me, but the servants of Castle Blanchet knew better than to drill me as to my intentions of a midnight kitchen raid. I’d wondered if they’d noticed how fat I wasn’t getting from all the food I’d swiped. Also, the gate guards never inspected my belongings. Enough food and fresh water were stowed away within my craft for a year’s journey if rationed correctly.

I’d swiped a bit of fishing gear as well even though I’d rarely fished. I’d observed the anglers doing it daily while sitting atop the Cliffs of Sasser. Luckily, they overlooked Kissing Fool’s Harbor and it didn’t appear to be all that difficult. Throw the net, catch the fish, right? Too easy.

Lashing a few more ropes together, I managed to securely stow the last load of gear. After tonight, I couldn’t claim royal privilege in the world beyond. No one cared that I was Prince Wrath of Lynnwood, because they had little to no idea such a place existed. To them, I’d just be Connor Wrath.

No, wait.

To them, I’d be a thief who preyed upon their village for food and slept with their women. I’d more than likely be hung from their tallest tree – if trees existed in the lands of imagination –  until dead. Another lifeless ornament to feed the flies and pests of a new land.

“Well, I brought the wine like you said!” came the startling, yet recognizable voice beyond the tree line.

“Quiet, Tawn,” I shushed for all it was worth. “If anyone hears us, they’ll come down here with a dozen questions I’m not willing to answer. I’ll have to kill them, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to depart Lynnwood with any of its blood on my sword. I’m done here. I truly am.”

Tawn Mannon was the royal jester from my father’s court and the only true friend I’d ever known. At age fifteen, he’d been brought to the castle as a means of trade by his own father.  They owed the royal family quite a bit of coin. He jested not by idiocy, though. He was truly talented, with a quick tongue, defeating the toughest of adversaries in a battle of wits. My own father, who never smiled at anything, found the kid amusing. Father kept him to settle the debt, and I was born shortly after. Tawn has been in the service of the royal court for over twenty-five years now. Eventually, you’d think someone with such responsibility would run out of jokes. Not Tawn. He’d put the “fun” in “funeral” if you’d let him.

“Oh bull, Connor,” Tawn spat. “None of those simpletons ever come down here in the middle of the night because they think some kind of sea creature is going to eat their balls for sticking their noses where it didn’t belong. Fear of the gods is a very real thing, Connor Wrath. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but at some point in your near future, you’re going to wish you’d listened to all the chatter about what comes from above. I’ve seen them.”

“You’ve done no such thing!” I laughed. “That sky god joke of yours is getting stale, sir. Save it for court. You’re my friend, Tawn, and not my joke-slave. You’ve never been, regardless of what my last name meant to others. You’re my friend. My only friend, to be precise. Friends don’t lie to each other about the existence of cloud people.”

Tawn smiled back. For someone who made others laugh for a living, you’d think it would be hard to laugh at others. Not my friend Tawn, though. He doubled over at my crazy rants just as much as I did his, and that’s why we were the best of friends. No one else, whether in Branchet, Quimper, or De Haro, could make me smile like him. No one else held my trust the way he did. He was the only one I’d dare clue into my plans for leaving my homeland. As expected, he seemed sad.

“Besides,” I continued. “You were a kid when you claim to have seen the gods. Those memories are a concoction of unsure infantile memories, a parent’s faulty beliefs, and continuous societal insistance. You saw nothing of the sort.”

“I hope you’re right, Connor; I truly do. My philosophy was to appease the gods just in case they’re real. That way, when I draw my last breath – only to realize they’re as imaginary as you claim – then I’m not out all that much. Then again, if I do so and must stand before them in judgement, I wouldn’t want to disappoint. I have a low tolerance for pain, and I’ve never been a fan of punishment. Eternal punishment sounds excruciatingly boring; eventually you’d get used to it and level off. Being fed to a giant sea monster and slowly digested over thousands of years is not my definition of fun.”

The poor guy; his family really did a number on him. A lifetime of whispers within the castle walls about returning sky gods didn’t do much for his mind. The only way we were truly able to remain friends all these years was an initial understanding to keep our religious beliefs to ourselves. We’d slip on occasion – I’d blast the make-believe cloud beings, or he’d instinctively go into prayer while sharing a meal – but we never had serious conversations. Not bad for a twenty-five-year friendship. He was indeed the best of the best.

I’d tried talking him into joining me, but fear of the unknown plagued the fool’s daydreams. Now, I didn’t mean to call him a fool, meaning he’s foolish, it’s just a slang title for a jester within the royal court. He’s never been and never will be foolish in any definition of the word. Most times, he was the smartest lad in the room, but he dared not reveal that to any members of the royal court. If they knew of his intelligence, they’d forbid him from his presence during matters of high secrecy. Tawn would just sit there and play dumb, and they never knew any better. We’d laugh about it like a private joke. Still, his fear of the heavens and sea monsters remained annoying.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me, Tawn?” I asked. “I promise I’ll protect you from anything harmful. Besides, I don’t know what I’m going to do without your wit to keep me company. Months at sea with myself seems torturous.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine being stuck in a boat with you for months on end,” he said. “What about S’Varick? You couldn’t convince her to leave your father’s wrinkly purse long enough to go on a death-defying journey toward the unknown?”

Tawn was the only person in Lynwood other than S’Varick and me who knew of our involvement. Even though we were far from being snickering little boys in the age department, we were truly that; just a couple of snickering boys. Granted, his hairline was swallowing that once dark mop atop his head, and my joints and bones creaked like an abandoned thatch house in a windstorm, but our hearts and humor aged not. It kept us young, so the older folks say. I could gladly live out the rest of my days with that advice. I imagined I’d be a raving lunatic on a leaky boat before new lands revealed themselves. It was a chance I was willing to take.

“She said she was scared of the sea monsters too, my friend,” I smiled. My boat was dry, and I missed him already.

I was glad he came to visit me on my way to oblivion. Wiping a quick tear from my cheek with my free hand before moonlight caught its glimpse, I poured two goblets of wine. The containers teetered back and forth as I did so. A moss-covered rock placed on the edge of where the grass meets the sand was my only choice for a makeshift table. It sufficed for the purposes needed.

We both reached out for our respective cups as though we’d rehearsed this action until perfection. The wine kissed our welcoming lips with our arms raised high, destroying any of the liquid’s false hope against escaping our throats. Our eyes met in silence, signaling that a refill was in order. My best friend Tawn and I repeated the gesture until the cask ran dry. In fear that the spirited juice wasn’t enough, I broke out a fresh pipe of Gods’ Crop to push us beyond the edge of reason.

I raked my fire-striker against the packed herb and inhaled as deeply as my lungs would allow. Holding my aching chest, I exhaled into the salty night, passing my bounty to my one true brother. He mimicked my actions and passed my prize to my waiting hands. As our gazes met one final time, our eyes spoke volumes in silence. A true talent between close friends. Something I shan’t have with another.

As we approached my moment of departure, we were blasted to our backs by unseen forces. The sand swirled all around us like whirlwinds from a dreadful storm. Blinded by debris, we reached for one another in safety. Our fingertips met as a feeling of temporary familiarity washed ever me, but I’d be forever lying if I said the fear wasn’t as overpowering or incapacitating as on the eve of battle. Scared for what came next was an understatement.

The wind and sand intensified, blowing what remained of my unstowed belongings out to sea. I cursed the disturbance with every last bit of volume my throat could muster, but it was to no avail. I could barely hear myself think, much less insult whoever invented such nonsensical timing. It was then that a light which put that of the moon to shame appeared above to illuminate our surroundings. Suddenly, Tawn’s fingertip grasp became a fist.

“Come on!” he screamed. “We’ve got to get back to the castle!”

My better judgement insisted I not argue and follow him back up the rocky embankment toward a home I’d nearly abandoned. Tripping upon rock after rock, the two of us peaked the summit and followed the worn horse paths that led from the Wall of Graves and back toward the fortress of Blanchet. The wind seemed to increase as the moments ticked by, but the debris had settled, giving us a better look at the oddity. Then, an eerie screech arose from the forest as the gusts battled the skinniest of trees. We knelt in painful defiance with our hands pressed tight against our ears.

“Tawn, what is that?” I cried. “Why are the trees screaming?”

My moment of reckoning arrived on the only tongue in Lynnwood I’d believe in such dire circulstances.

“It’s them, Connor,” Tawn reinforced my fears as his muffled voice penetrated my trembling hands. “The gods have returned!”

I stared into the blinding light for answers but was met with searing pain. Tears blurred what remained of my vision as I traversed the packed earth toward home. Instinct said it would be the safest place if ever the imaginary beings of ultimate power managed to reappear during my lifetime. I could tell they were heading in the direction of Blanchet as my eyesight returned.

“Don’t look at the light, Connor! Just keep running!”

Tawn’s warning came late, as luck would have it. Bells beyond the walls rang in the distance signaling that Tawn and myself weren’t just suffering from a bad batch of Gods’ Crop. Never in my life had I heard these bells, and they struck my quivering nerves with each stroke. I’d grown up around them, but my father insisted I never ring them unless it was an emergency. Since my royal upbringing never quite resulted in much of anything that could be considered an emergency, I never rang the bells! I’m glad I didn’t. If I could feel their tone through screaming trees, it would’ve vaporized me as a child.

A celestial craft crested the nearby hills, blocking out all starlight from above. What manner of boat did the gods possess that allowed them to sail above angry seas? These creatures were truly as magical and peculiar as all their worshippers claimed them to be. With that acknowledgement, I couldn’t help but think I was the solitary cause of their unannounced return. I should’ve listened to Tawn and S’Varick about the boat. This was far worse than being swallowed by some sea monster! Would these gods waste such an entrance on a young man who hadn’t even placed his boat in the water? Theatrics aside, my father was going to be angry when he found out about what I’d planned to do. Maybe I should change direction and just sail away. What’s done is done, right?

A sudden silence enveloped the land as all lights on the being’s craft extinguished. The screaming forest ceased its terrifying song as night creatures serenaded the night sky once more. I’m sure nature’s tunes separating the desires of hungry and horny vary but, on this night, it all sounded the same.

Firelights erupted in all windows of castle Blanchet signaling their ultimate guests had arrived. Peering into the southern and northernmost directions of Lynnwood, I could tell the villages of Quimper and De Haro offered the exact opposite gesture. All who lived in those areas of the land were damned happy the gods passed their unworthy lot and landed on the doorstep of King Wrath instead. Sure, they’d pray to these beings day and night, offering sacrificial blessings in their names, but they didn’t want to be clued into the whole “godly experience” on a firsthand basis. I didn’t blame them. If I weren’t a member of the royal court myself, I’d be hiding somewhere beneath a sturdy vegetable cart in De Haro.

“Get upstairs and get cleaned up,” commanded Tawn, interrupting my dreams of safety in the southlands. “If memory serves, you’re not going to want to miss this.”

Was he genuinely excited for this frightening intrusion into everything I’d known? Yes, I know I owed the man hundreds of apologies when everything was said and done, but I wasn’t about to stain my underclothes in giddiness. Fear? Certainly. I ranked this right up there with an afternoon game of “queen and seek”.

Chapter 4 Coming Soon…