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

Also, I’m releasing this novel, novella, or whatever it’s going to end of being absolutely free. If you enjoyed what you’ve read, I’d ask you to consider dropping off a little something at my PayPal @howlgrowlsnarl. Coffee is getting ridiculous!

Wrath’s Lament

by Rev. Dare Cloud

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Chapter One

3.0

To the depths with this rain. It feels as if I’ve had precipitation pelting me in the eye since the day I was born. It makes it damn hard to concentrate on a target. Thus is life in this cursed land.

Me and the lads have been standing here in this miserable downpour for what my tired bones insist is an eternity now. We futilely knocked upon the Wall of Graves hoping we could roust some poor soul and just get this over with. No such luck, it appears. Everyone is off celebrating piss-poor sky gods or hiding in fear from the twenty soldiers I brought with me to oversee business.

Lord Sert of Quimper was placed in charge over the fishing and hunting duties for the kingdom long before my birth, but whispers among the commoners claim he’s been cutting back on supplies while expecting the same payment for his services. This is a tool used by comfortable men when they believe they’re owed more, usually when someone is chirping delusions into their ears. Sometimes it’s a talkative spot in the bed beyond the home fires, drumming the man up to ill-deserved greatness. Most times that particular spot is wrong. This happens to be one of those times. Did he not think the Wrath family would discover his deception? Has he not witnessed what happens to men who throw a kink in the grinder repeatedly? The same occurrence took place down south in De Haro Village a mere year ago and it was dealt with via a simple replacement. The same body, different head; my blade was the tool which solved it all.

I told them, though. I told them from the very beginning it would come to this, but nobody listened. I should be used to it by now. Nobody listens to the son of the king. Well, at least not me. They have no problem paying attention to my big brother and the words that leave his mouth. I can’t help that I’m the younger of us. Maybe it’s because he’s next in line for the throne and has a better face. That would make me want to get in line very quickly if I was a maiden with dreams of a royal makeover!

Still, Lord Chelios Sert decided to grow a pair at the last minute and stand up to royal decree. It’s a lost cause, really. His tiny militia of fisherman and ranchers are no match for the royal army. We’ll kill two or three and the rest will surrender once they see blood flow through the streets. This is the way it happened with the farmers in De Haro last year and the year before that. Someone always insists on getting their balls in a bind and trying their hand at challenging my father. They forget he never fights his own battles and sends the swords of his men to do his bidding. Memories are short in Lynnwood, that’s for sure. They should sew that motto on the banners in Castle Blanchet as a reminder. Maybe a few here and there to cover up those dreary walls. Welcome to Lynnwood, where half the princes have nice faces, and the peasants have short memories!

“What in the depths is taking Lord Sert so damn long to reply?” called out General Canaby. “Did they have to send a runner all the way to the Cliffs of Sasser for a straight answer?”

“No, General,” called back one of the three men from atop the wall. “He’s tucked inside his bed in Quimper Village same as everyone else at this hour. I don’t suppose there’s any way we could discuss our woes another time. Perhaps during hours of daylight?”

Damn fool guards and their useless wit. A man gets all high and mighty when there’s ten feet of stacked rock between their throats and the blades of their enemies. I catch the image of General Canaby shaking his head beneath his polished helmet. He’s obviously disappointed in how the situation is developing. I truly don’t blame him.

When my father tasked me with joining the general’s guard on this mission, I didn’t really argue. Granted, I knew it was raining and nasty about, but I needed a spot of adventure. I didn’t have pressing plans aside from sitting in my chamber doing what men do in their free time. This quest is obviously the most productive of the activities. What can I say? I’m a man with goals. Bards don’t sing songs of solitary self-service, but my head disagrees. I hear angels sing. It’s my hard-earned opinion that bards should create more melodies about men in their solitude.

“Prince Connor,” came the general, but I was too deep into my own mind to acknowledge the beckoning. I heard him, but I didn’t want to answer. I knew the question on his tongue. He came once more, using my full name.

“Prince Connor Wrath! Do you think I could bother you to remove your good ears from your rear-end so I could ask you a question or two?”

I knew it. General Zellot Canaby is not much for jest, especially on the eve of battle. He can’t help poking fun at me when the chance arises. He’s never been nice, to be honest. He’s one of the first faces I remember from early years, and none of those were ever smiling. Not once. He even has good teeth for a military man, yet he refuses to smile. I don’t get it, not one bit. I’m always up for a good joke, more often than a threat or serious tale of despair. Most men just can’t manage my sense of humor. They think I’m not taking them seriously when I return their requests with wit. Why stop now? I’m all armored up and soaking wet from head to toe, ready to remove  heads from anyone who opposes me over the next half hour.

They’ll surrender before then. I know they will.

“Yes, General,” I replied. “It’s just as big as you’ve heard and twice as pretty, but that’s not important. The only person I ever plan to please with it is myself!”

General Canaby shook his head in disgust, but he should’ve known it was coming. Not once have I ever replied with sincerity. Never. Same as how he’s never smiled at me. I’d be willing to make him a deal if he were interested. I’d answer his inquiries with integrity if he smiled while inquiring. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Depths, it sounds like a fair deal!

“Choose a runner to go back to Blanchet and have them inform King Collus of the situation. Apparently Lord Sert isn’t up for negotiations tonight and will need a proper spanking.”

“As you wish, General,” I agreed.

There was no point in toying with the man much longer. Sure, I’ve taken it further. Much further to be precise, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear his bitching and belly aching on this most rainy of nights on the edge of battle. I wasn’t nervous. I’ve taken my fair share of souls, but there’s always the chance tables could turn. Some lucky bastard could claim mine instead. Gods, could you imagine? What Depths would be brought upon the opposition if they could take the head of Prince Connor Wrath of Blanchet? That would certainly be the battle to top all battles.

I pointed toward the man closest to me to come hither and deliver the message to my father. It’s not like it mattered. The old man was just going to inform him that we are to begin cutting heads until the kneeling begins. That’s the way it always goes. No negotiation. No bending. Straight to the head cutting. Easy for a king, really. He’s not the one who must endure the vibrations of a blade through flesh as it travels through your wrists and into the heart. I feel it every time. I often wonder if the gods have magical devices sewn within me to keep count of every soul I’ve freed from the Mewes to the Ishiro. What if every life I’ve taken is one subtracted from my own? Is it silly to ponder such things? No one knows for sure. If that’s the case, how many do I have left? What prize awaits me for topping the board?

I can feel the frigid rain collected in my outstretched arm brace pour down my chest between armor and skin. The cold doesn’t let up as it dives deeper into the unknown regions of sweat and legends. It’s a brief spot of refreshment for whatever has gone awry. To tell the truth, I hate wearing armor just as much as rain. Combining them on the same night? My visible exasperated exhalations should make my feelings abundantly clear. I’m a prince, after all. What am I even doing here?

“Send a message to my father The King,” I instructed. “Let him know that the Wall of Graves isn’t friendly on this evening and that Lord Chelios Sert and his militia of peasants are nowhere to be found. Ask his instructions and bring his wishes back to me. Make haste!”

“Yes, your highness!” the knight obeyed with a tip of his helmet. I watched as he slimed his way through mud and slippery stone, staining his pure white steed as he mounted the beast. He disappear into the trees with a well-timed flash of lightning. It won’t take him long to reach the castle. With luck, those presently missing hunters and fishermen won’t arrive in his absence. The extra sword would be nice in battle if it came to that. I don’t believe I’m even in the mood to fight anymore. I’d just blame the weather and call it a night if it were up to me. I mean, it is, as of this moment, but I’d be in deep trouble once I reached father’s court. The look from Killian would be worse.

I’m not even sure why I bother trying to impress my older brother anymore. I looked up to him as a child, but those days are gone. More like the general than me, he doesn’t have a sense of humor to save his life if necessary. Sure, he’s laughed at times, and I’ve even seen him smile when the occasion called for it, but it’s difficult for him to take a joke. The future king must always be on his best behavior and stony-faced. You can’t just let the other lords and plain folk see you giggling as you dance down the street with your nose in the air. You’d look like an idiot! Well, I can imagine that I look idiotic when I do such things, but no one is keeping score for Prince Connor. Two Wrath men would need to perish for me to become king, and I don’t believe that will happen.

I’m simply fine with being a prince. I don’t have the same responsibilities as my father or brother, and I don’t have to fish or shovel waste like the rest. I plainly AM, I guess. I sleep well beyond the rising of the sun, I take my share of maidens, I drink way more than my share of wine, and everyone else along the Sea of Torrence can kiss my shiny, armored buttocks; including my father, brother, and that damned General Canaby. He’s supposed to already do that, but he doesn’t respect me in the slightest, and no one forces him, either. My new mother, the most recent queen, treats me well though, and I’m nice to her in return. She can’t help it that the king chose her among everyone else to marry when my true mother died. Still, I like her, we have a lot in common. Way more than anyone would imagine. I can’t wait until morning to tell her of all the madness my father put me through by sending me on this dingy mission in the middle of this precipitous night. She’ll continue to cut him off for sure, and he’s getting too old to force the issue. She may as well have a catapult down there. Deadly from a distance, that woman. My kind, for sure.

Some would say it’s strange to daydream about such things, but it was better than counting raindrops as they pelted my helmet upon this abomination of an evening. Queen S’Varick is five whole years younger than I and the only daughter of Lord Dreek Ferrell of De Haro. Father knew I’d had eyes on her for some time before taking her as my mother’s replacement. It must be nice to be a king, pumping babies into someone thirty years your junior who’ll be nipping at his toes until reaching court or military age. Luckily, my father doesn’t have enough arrows in the old quiver to ruin that good lady’s figure. She’s too beautiful to be tarnished by pregnancy. This brings me to my next line of thought. I needed something to take the discomfort of this downpour away.

Do I love my father? Of course I do! All young men love their fathers regardless of what they say to their mates after a few pints of ale. Do I approve of his methods as a ruler? Absolutely not. The old man is entirely too high strung and could use a good pipe or two of Gods’ Crop to take off the edge. I’m sure he believes himself to be beyond such things since it would anger the gods nice and proper. Everything he says and does is for the sake of the gods, and that imaginary lot hadn’t set foot in Lynnwood since before my birth.

Many elders on the council claim the gods return to this land once every generation, but those tales have become sparse as time trudged forward. I’m not even sure if I believe the strange stories of the senile folk who claim to have met such beings. Apparently, they pop up every once in a while, to tell us all what we should and shouldn’t do and then disappear until after the next generation is born. It’s convenient when the only people who claim to have met them are closest to the coffin. The journey to the other side is enticing by that point. Personally, I’m not buying it. I don’t care whose money I’m using for the purchase.

All I’ve been told since I was a child is not to do this or that because it will anger the gods on high. The anglers are not allowed to move their boats beyond the Kissing Fools or Talia Harbor lest it anger them. Something about angry fish who seek vengeance for the plucking of their smaller brethren for our own nourishment. Even as a child growing up in Blanchet, I was not allowed to swim any farther out than the edges of Dark Hills Bay or it would set off the entities in which my father placed so much faith. Sunrise to sunset, I would sit atop the castle and long for whatever lay beyond the horizon of Lynnwood. In all my twenty-five years, not once have I met anyone who journeyed beyond my birth land. It’s as though the birds who fly east over the Sea of Torrance would suddenly appear at your back as they flew from the west. Rubbish, but frightening rubbish. This is not a safe conversation for one to have within one’s own mind without drowning it in ale first. That was what I planned to do as soon as the soldier returned from Blanchet.

Still, what lies beyond the evening sun, past the waters of my home? There’s only one way to know and, if it indeed angered our rulers on high, perhaps they’d appear to teach me a lesson. I would be doing the land a public service since there aren’t many left in Blanchet, Quimper, or De Haro who believe in such nonsense.

My thoughts were bothered by the approaching sound of hooves on the rain-beaten rock. I guess it was welcomed since my erratic mind nearly had propelled me into the nearest fishing boat to solve the great mystery once and for all. I slapped my helmet with my gauntlet a few times to ignite the weathered, spent candle within my head. The last thing I needed was to think of idiotic quests with battle ahead. Greater men were killed by lesser things.

“Your Grace,” the messenger announced the royal pleasantries while dismounting his horse. “I send word from your father, The King.”

“Let me guess,” I replied, already knowing the answer. “We are to either climb or knock down the wall and drag Lord Sert before the throne kicking and screaming.”

“You are correct, your Grace,” He responded, dumfounded. “It’s almost as though the two of you are of the same mind!”

“No, soldier,” I cringed, drawing my sword to the ready. “I’ve just been living with the man since I popped out of my mother into this world with a fine hello on the tip of my tallywacker. Put two people behind the same walls for that long – watching each other eat and smelling each other’s expulsions, and you’ll begin thinking alike. Oh, and if I ever hear of you or anyone else comparing me to my father again, your fate will be no different than the unfortunate anglers of Quimper Village.”

“Yes, your Grace,” the scolded soldier apologized.

I said nothing to him from that moment on. Of course, I wasn’t mad at the man for saying such things, I just preferred to keep him on his toes. A leader, whether it be a king or a lowly prince like me, should never rub elbows with his subordinates. They must fear you if they are to obey your orders. That’s exactly what the general had done to me since I was wetting my crib. I’ll never let him know that I could sense his true nature. The land of Lynnwood needed him to be strong in times of battle and unaware that he was slipping in his old age. Speaking of which…

“General,” I called. “Let’s teach these meat dealers what happens when they hoard supplies from their king for ease of negotiations.”

            “As you wish, your Highness,” answered Canaby. “You heard the prince, men. The king wants this to be handled thoroughly and quickly. Take the wall!”

            I turned back toward the men to let them know they should follow my orders into battle, but my father pulled a traditional “Wrath” move, as I’ve grown to call it. Out from the tree line walked an additional eighty or so armored soldiers to join the twenty men already soaked to the bone at the base of the Wall of Graves. As though they’d rehearsed this movement a dozen times, they attached iron hooks to the ends of ropes and began their ascent. Taking notice, the original men who’d accompanied the General and myself began bashing the wall’s gate with alternating battering rams. Now was a race to see who’d get bloody first, the men on the ground or the climbers upon the wall.

            Screams came from both simultaneously, making it difficult to name the victor in my mind’s contest. It’s not like it mattered; no one was winning prizes for doing the King’s bidding. A dry place to sleep and bellies full of intoxicants were more than fair compensation in the royal guard. No one ever asked for more, so nothing was added to the job description. I was merely the go-between, a prince who would never be king and a scribe who refused to claim the quill responsible for such addendums. I wasn’t even sure why I was here. Did the old man hope a toothless goat with a pitchfork would get lucky and be the end of me? I wouldn’t put that past our lord King Wrath. Not for a moment.

Live or die on this night, either way. It was time for my think-box to end its bickering and make good on one of the few things in which I excel. I lowered the visor from my helmet’s helm and introduced my blade to the chilled air from its sleepy sheath.

            “No worries, my love,” I stated while placing a kiss upon her sharpened steel. “You’ll be warmed by crimson storms soon enough.”

I was wrong by thinking this was to be a short battle, if even a true battle at all. A mound of gutted men formed as I advanced into the village of Quimper as rivulets of blood flowed toward the lowest part of the Mewes inlet. I’m sure the fish would feed on such sickness as soon as it hit the water. Any fisher who still drew breath were missing the opportunity of a lifetime.

Oh, to be a fisher at this moment. I said I was good at taking heads. Not once did I say I cared for it. At least not when commanded by one who got his underclothes in a bunch beneath his royal robes. Not a single person had done wrong by me throughout this fiasco. Besides, I hate the taste of fish. Tiny bones. Annoying tiny bones.

A dozen more slashes of the soldiers’ swords and the remaining resistance fell to their knees for mercy. Now this is the portion of our imaginary conflict where I would bless them with this request as a teaching tool against future uprisings. Unfortunately, my voice was nothing more than a formality. The general and his men were following the orders of an old relic who didn’t stir from beneath his weighted pelts when my messenger arrived. What just happened before me was discussed over a hearty dinner days ago in my absence. My brother and future king, Prince Killian, always tells me that father likes for me to feel important from time to time. I’m officially calling royal shenanigans. That man took a chance on my death tonight; I’m certain of it. Hopefully, he won’t be too upset when he realizes his wish didn’t come true.

I hate this land, that castle, and I hate my king. I know there must be something better beyond the instructions of our gods, and surely I’m not the first man in the history of Lynnwood to crave them. Save the dream for another night, young Prince Wrath. Same dream, different night. I despise more than I’ve realized before having this conversation with myself on the blood-soaked streets of Quimper. No worries, this rain will wash it all away by morning.

To the depths with it all.

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Chapter Two

3.0

            The silence of the dungeons was broken by the faint trickle of water. The never-ending flow of rain outside had yet to cease and there was no way of stopping it. Generations of weather and winters had forged a few strategic cracks here and there granting it the ambiance prisoners craved during incarceration. A drop here, a plop there. After a few days, the unpredictable invasive reverberations were enough to drive a man insane. I couldn’t take it for more than an hour at a time.

The dank bowels of my family castle felt unusually welcoming when compared to the cold open wetness of tonight’s battle. Certainly, that entire confrontation could’ve been avoided if Lord Sert had simply seen fit to show up himself. Our opponent had no chance of winning against our numbers, but I guess there are just some in our world who insist on reevaluating the boundaries from time to time. We can smell our own.

Taking my armor off piece by piece was contributing to the ever-growing puddles beneath my numb feet. Rainfall in Lynnwood was never warm. No, it was frigid, bordering on freezing, no matter air temperature or season. It was rather refreshing during those days when the sun rode high and baked you to the bone. I could compare it to that of a beautiful woman’s embrace if it helped relate. During the cold times? It still felt like a woman’s embrace, just one who’s grown tired of your misdeeds a few cycles back.

This was indeed the colder time of year, so the precipitation was an unwelcome hindrance. None seemed to care much after the fighting began, but waiting there for someone to make the first move was excruciating! Again, it all could’ve been avoided if just one of those ancient men would’ve given some slack on either end. The older men get, the more stubborn they become. My father was the world’s worst, or at least the worst in the portion of the world I’m allowed to explore. Lord Sert was equally stubborn but without the swords to back it all up. To me, it’s simple stupidity. Stupidity will get you killed in Lynnwood if you’re not careful.

Piece by piece I dropped my armor to the floor with a clang and splash. All the other soldiers in the King’s army were performing similar actions inside the armory while stumbling over one another, crushing unfortunate toes with their sabatons. Prince or not, they always gave me a hard time whenever the general was nowhere to be found. Calling me names or forcing my face into the privy chamber to fill my nose with the bark of someone’s fresh gift, I hated them all. Muscled up oafs were nothing without their weapons and numbers. The problem was that they made sure to always travel fully armed and dangerous. That is why I choose to perform this blasted activity in the lonely silence of an empty dungeon cell. Yes, I have a bed chamber, but why soak my own floor with this peasant rain from Quimper?

Dropping the final piece and piling it all into the furthest corner, I slammed the iron door for it all to be forgotten for another day. My underclothes were so saturated that I couldn’t feel the sting of the key against my chest when I dropped it down my tunic. I wasn’t sure which of the two activities I looked forward to the most over the next hour. Warming my bones and clothes before the roaring fireplace in the royal hall or winking subtle suggestions to Queen Wrath at the expense of my father’s ignorance.

I’d heard it all before from the man I considered my best friend in all the halls of Castle Blanchet. Ironically, this person is the court jester, but he always offers the most solid advice toward questionable situations. No, Tawn Mannon was the closest thing I had to a real brother even though I was blood-related to the future king who resided a few doors away from my own. If only you could choose family, I often thought. If only Tawn were my real brother instead of Killian.

I loved the man, I truly did. We had so much in common when it came to how others looked upon us. At least his insults were expected since he was the court jester by appointment.

“The two of you have got to stop making eyes at one another,” he warned. “Your father will string you up for sure if you get caught sullying his flower. I don’t care how pretty that smile is when you’re looking down on her.”

Tawn was never quite proud of my replies during these conversations. It was never Queen S’Varick’s smile that kept me coming back to her chamber while my father snored from drunkenness upon the throne. It had everything to do with how her arms felt around my waist, holding on tightly as though falling from the highest tower. It was her scent after being bathed by the handmaidens before bed. Mostly, it was that angelic voice whispering to take her places into which she’d never been. Then again, that wasn’t too grand of a request. She’d remained untouched since before her wedding night and my father’s manhood disappeared years ago, swallowed by the fat of his own gluttony. The poor man inadvertently made turtles jealous whenever forced to expose and relieve himself via the shoreline.

The lady deserved much more than what she’d get between now and my father’s passing. After that she’d be pawned off to my brother like a secondhand sheath. Neither genuinely loved her nor would they know how if they mustered the sensibilities to try. No, I loved her with all my heart, and it had little to do with the games she and I played beneath the pelts. She was indeed worth the price of discovery.

***

            “What do you mean?” asked my father. “Are you saying that you don’t want to be the intermediary on the battlefield? You don’t enjoy being the face of the kingdom? Do you know how many men would give their right eye for the opportunities and blessings you receive here in Lynnwood?”

“By the gods, father!” I replied. “One damn question at a time please! I can’t answer your ramblings all at once, so please allow me to take them in turn!”

I hated family gatherings during the morning meal. Traditionally, the entire family sat at a lengthy, rectangular table in the castle’s great hall beside an enormous, roaring fireplace to shed the overnight cold. My father occupied the head of the table while everyone else ignored the existence of assigned seating. We landed where we did on most mornings unless King Wrath really wanted to tear into someone; then he would place them the furthest away. He enjoyed yelling.

“I’m saying I don’t want to be the front man on the battlefield because it’s completely pointless,” I continued. “General Canaby does whatever he wants. I’m nothing but a glorified messenger.”

“You watch your tone, young man,” barked Canaby.

“See what I mean? The general of your army just scolded your son, the prince, and no one flinched, broke wind, or batted an eye!”

No one, from my father on down to my brother, even noticed the war-hardened bastard just insulted me at my own table! This was the exact point I was attempting to make, but no one got it. Why put my own life in danger if no one intends on respecting that life in the first place? On top of that, why was this man even having a meal with my family? It made me wonder if he had blackmail fuel on my father and weaseled his way into special privilege. The possibilities were endless within the halls of Wrath. I was no different.

I continued. “To answer your second question, it doesn’t matter that I’m the face of the kingdom. If I’m armored up in battle, my face isn’t visible from my visor! Also, I dare not wear any type of identifying cloak or colors for fear of making myself a more important target! You could dress up Tawn the Jester in my armor and no one would know better!”

Silence. They stuffed their fat mouths with food while I spilled my heart out onto the table. I’m certain they were hoping I would run out of breath so they could enjoy their breakfast, but I wasn’t about to give them pleasure. If they were going to sit here and eat, I was going to give their ears a treat. After an hour, they surely wouldn’t mind if I took meals in my own chamber. I rather liked eating in solitude, to be honest.

My morning’s final hurrah sounded. “And as far as the men who’d line up to take my place as prince in Lynnwood, I dare them to form a line. I am Prince Connor Wrath and I’ll be damned if I let a soldier or peasant take my place as the court’s whipping boy. It may not be the fantasy most men dream of, but it’s mine. Only the intervention of the gods could change my birthright and, since they’ve chosen to abandon you and all the other delusional believers of this land, I don’t see that happening.”

My father slammed his fist onto the table with enough strength to topple most of the drinking cups. Not that he was a strong man by any account, but the table was solid. Maybe that’s why he chose it. It made a gods-awful noise when you beat it with your puny fist. The moment he performed his beggar’s feat of nonsense was also when a bare foot from across the table started caressing my leg for everything it was worth. The queen knew I was nearing my breaking point when it came to my boisterous father, the ignorant general, or my mute brother. She knew how to soothe my nerves following a Wrath confrontation. I smiled behind my cup to let her know I’d be taking her up on that offer just as soon as everyone else was away on their daily tasks. My father’s voice brought my excitement back into a more manageable, flaccid state.

“If you insist on insulting my gods at my table in my chamber in my castle, then you can excuse yourself whenever you seem fit to do so. They’ll be no blasphemy here or anywhere else within earshot from now on. I don’t want to be associated with you or any other non-believers when the time comes for their return, boy. You’d better get your life straight and do it quickly.”

For once, my father was right. I planned to get something straightened out with quickness as soon as the young queen finished breakfast. If she weren’t full up from the bounty spread across our great table, I’d make sure she was satisfied.

I’m not sure what annoyed me most. Was it the god’s awful sunlight pouring in through the dining room windows, the damned sparrows chirping in the trees beyond, or my brother stirring in his chair as though he were about to say something he deemed relevant? In the meantime, at least it wasn’t raining.

“You know, brother…”

I stood corrected as Prince Killian Wrath finished stuffing his food hole long enough to join the conversation. He always stood beside the king no matter what the subject. Of course he did. He must kiss that royal hiney every chance he got since he was next in line for the throne. It wasn’t like my father would change his mind and grant me the honor instead. I was the younger, the weaker, and the least adored. I reminded myself to be vigilant while sneaking to my dungeon hideout. I wouldn’t want to tempt father into stealthing up behind me and purposely shutting the door. No one would ever hear my screams. A few weeks below and many residents of Lynnwood would have their prayers answered.

“You should let me teach you,” he continued. “If I trained you on everything I knew, you could be leading your own troops into battle rather than joining the general on missions.”

“How about this,” I primed my retort. “How about the Wrath family learns to rule firmly but fairly, and then we won’t have to worry about slaughtering anglers, ranchers, and farmers every time they get the notion to withhold food from Blanchet. Can you teach me that, dear brother, or do I have to wait until father passes on?”

My father had clearly checked out of the conversation the minute my brother stepped in. It was simply fine with me. He never said anything of any relevance anyway. Just the same thing repeatedly. Always insisting that I get it together or act more bravely in the face of adversity. The man knew nothing about me. If he knew how much Gods’ Crop I’d hijacked lately, he’d explode on me for sure!

Gods’ Crop is the only thing we grow here in Blanchet since the peasants and lords of both Quimper and De Haro aren’t allowed to touch the seeds! According to what I’ve been told by the aging members of the castle, the plant has magical healing abilities, and we cultivate it for the gods themselves. Funny that I’ve never seen these gods with my own eyes during my lifetime, and it’s even funnier when I set a flame to it. I’m not sure about healing properties, but it fuzzies me up nice and proper. It’s much faster than any ale and it never makes me stick my head into my own chamber pot to release the evening’s dinner to the depths below. That’s a blessing, and I’m sure I’m not the only person in Blanchet who feels that way. My friend Tawn the Jester had to find out somehow, and he’s the one who introduced it to me!

“Is that what you want, Connor?” my brother brought me back into the conversation. “Do you want our father to die so I can become king? I’m just going to hold you to the same standards. You’re not the spawn of my loins. My love for you isn’t as unconditional.”

I laughed sharply from wall to wall. The queen hid her smile behind her hand as best she could, knowing Prince Killian was way off mark. I subtly nodded in her direction, allowing her to recognize my compliance with her hidden gesture.

“Dear brother, you call this man’s interactions with me the result of unconditional love? I think it’s time you visited one of the brothels in De Haro at your earliest convenience so you may be shown an example of the sport. It may not be unconditional, but they’ll promise you it is if you tip them well enough!”

With that, my brother and the general joined my father’s stance and bowed out of the conversation. It was as I wanted. No one looked or spoke in my direction. I had brought peace to the table where it was rare. After a feat like that, they should make me king instead, right this moment! I already had a queen. Her foot was flailing me like a pendulum from side to side like the clapper in an old church bell. Those toes of hers contained only a small portion of talent when it came to the manner of such things. I’m sure she was just excited that she didn’t need to sally forth on a scavenger hunt just to find it. Perhaps we were equally as lucky when it came to our mysterious meetings beyond the royal marriage bed.

This was my family dynamic concisely. Every morning, my attendance resulted in ferocity pointed my direction, and suggestions from the lot on how to repair my life. Not once had anyone inquired as to what I wanted, nor would they understand if I were to reveal honesty. They’d learn soon enough.

***

“You know they’re going to hunt us down and hang us from the highest tree in De Haro, right?”

“My apologies, your grace,” came my muffled response. “I’m not ignoring your warning, it’s just not polite to speak with your mouth full. Also, your thighs were squeezing me during that last bit, so I couldn’t hear what you were saying. How are you managing to have a meaningful conversation with me while I’m serenading the old naughty?”

“Talent, and we shouldn’t be doing this,” she said. “Your father and brother were so mad at you after breakfasting this morning they’d surely decapitate you if witnessed in your current position!”

“Bold words for someone who’s already finished,” I accused.

It was a wonderful afternoon in Lynnwood. A refreshing afternoon breeze flowed from window to window through my chamber, kissing my exposed buttocks as they shivered by. King Wrath and Prince Killian were out hunting and accessing the damage in Quimper from the night before. I’m sure father just wanted to look Lord Sert in the eyes to give him that overall feeling of disappointment. I knew it all too well from childhood. I planned to do everything within my power to calm the sweet girl’s nerves. Honestly, I was a bit high-strung myself and could use a good sigh. Two if I were lucky.

“I don’t expect that they’ll be back from up north too long before the sun sets, so we’ve got all the time in the world, S’Varick. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself. I can imagine it’s something you don’t receive in my absence.”

Immediately, the queen sprung from my bed and adjusted her dress to remove my playthings from sight. This was the part of our secret relationship I loathed. It was the talking part; the part which dealt with our shrouded future. It was a dream of hers to be out from under my father’s thumb and into the arms of the man she loved. I hated to burst her royal bubble, but the only way that fantasy would ever play out would be if King Wrath perished without blame. All eyes would look to me regardless. I was the son he despised, and everyone knew it.

She plopped down in a chair I’d dragged over to the window to glance across the Sea of Torrance. I preferred to watch the sun set behind the water and the stars awaken with a subtle twinkle just as a good gift of Gods’ Crop blessed me. It wasn’t anything to alert the guards about, but it was magical as far as I was concerned. There wasn’t much in my tiny world to get me aroused more than burning Crop and secretly ravishing the queen. It was time to reach greatness; perhaps tempting fate.

No one ever accomplished great things by remaining within the boundaries of their comfort zone. In Lynnwood, no one ever accomplished great things at all. Your deeds mattered little, and birthright meant everything. My father was king, my brother was next in line, and his inevitable children would follow. Children planted firmly within the woman I loved, not to mention against her will. That wasn’t going to happen. Not if I could help it.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” I asked.

“Connor, we can’t be seen anywhere else in the castle together without tipping everyone off…”

“No, I mean really getting out of here,” I stopped her. “I mean why don’t we leave Lynnwood? You want to be with me, and I want to be with you. No one is ever going to let that happen if we’re stuck on this rock. Let’s steal a fishing boat, load it up with everything we need, and just go wherever the wind takes us. It could be you and me in a new world where no one could tell us what we could and couldn’t do.”

S’Varick stared with her mouth agape like she’d just heard a Bard’s nonsensical rhyme. It was damned close. No one left Lynnwood, nor had Lynnwood ever received visitors. Surely, we weren’t the only inhabitants of our world, and there was only one way to find out.

“Connor, that’s insane!” S’Varick answered. “The gods have forbidden us from leaving the boundaries of the harbor! On top of that, if we did manage to do so without anyone on Lynnwood or in the skies above noticing our escape, the creatures who inhabit the Sea of Torrance would surely devour us!”

I gazed around the room in wonder. How could such an intelligent and beautiful being believe in such things? Surely her family dragged her to worship weekly like every other child in Blanchet during their upbringing. I, on the other hand, stopped believing in ghosts from the moment I reached the age of reason. Nothing would convince me otherwise. The gods were a farce to keep the commoners in line, plain and simple. I planned on proving it to everyone with or without her blessing. I can imagine that, if my hunches were correct, that there would be more than my fair share of ladies in other lands to run circles around those of my fearmongering homeland.

I advanced to S’Varick and knelt before her with utmost sincerity. “I’m going to prove it to you, my lady. I’m going to find life beyond the walls of this castle and return to show you what truly lies beyond the reach of King Collus Wrath.”

I couldn’t tell if she was shuddered by my “blasphemy” or just upset that I planned to leave, but she left my chamber in a gush of tears. What she didn’t know was that I’d been planning this departure for quite some time. The boat hid in a grove of trees in the northernmost section of Talia Harbor and camouflaged from sight for nearly four seasons. She was stocked with provisions, weapons, and everything else an adventurer would need to succeed against the unknown. I was leaving with or without her.

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 Four

3.0

            The creature’s hardened skin emitted a strange luminescence amidst the darkness of the royal chamber. It was oddly the color of moonlight; a description which knows no color in my knowledge. In an unusual sense of humility, my father had gifted his own throne to the god for the allowance of business yet to be known. Was this some sort of tradition? I don’t recall my father allowing anyone to place their ass, godly or otherwise, upon his seat. Ever. I’d been beaten many times in my youth for doing so out of curiosity. The man would soil himself rather than vacate if it wouldn’t disgust the queen.

            The queen; she was a separate story altogether. Looking more beautiful than she did on her coronation day, I could sense a hint of mysterious fear in her eyes. It wasn’t anything like how scared she’d get when we were sneaking kisses and favors in the deepest, darkest corners of the castle. No, this was something much deeper. Everyone else in court claimed to have dealt with the gods face to face before she and I were even born. This was new to both of us, and I couldn’t dare offer her any comforting gestures within view of the public. It would be all too obvious.

            Of all those in attendance, my brother Killian appeared to be the least bothered by the entity who scanned the crowd beneath the throne. Surely, he was just as bothered as the rest of us, but he didn’t dare drop a bead of royal sweat to moisten the floor upon which he stood. He was next in line for the throne for certain, and he’d never let his future subjects see him squirm in the face of fear. Yes, terror was the best word used to describe the being who was now regally rising from my father’s assigned seat.

            Easily a foot or so shorter than most who gazed upon it ­– the jury was still out on whether this thing possessed any type of sexual orientation – the creature carried itself in a manner which cared little for things such as height or stature. The brightest yellow, reflective pools sat below its enormous forehead which glimmered at every dance of the torchlights along the far wall. Dead-center of its eyes appeared a sinister slit like that of a nocturnal predator. The nightmare looked more of a marsh dweller than a star-bound deity, and I honestly couldn’t wait until this beast was back inside it’s strange ship bound for the heavens. I mean, I assumed there was more than one, taking into consideration the size of the craft it arrived in. I’m only glad they weren’t all in court. This one, an obvious leader of sorts, was about as much as my tingling nerves could manage.

“It is an honor to be among you and your court again, King Wrath.”

My guts metaphorically hit the ground as the being spoke for the first time in my attendance. I’m not the sharpest blade on the rack, but I’m pretty sure someone would be unable to do such a thing with a reptilian snout! No, this creature managed to communicate with a grumbling voice that echoed throughout the chamber as though amplified by some sort of magical amplifier. Again, Queen S’Varick and I were the only ones in attendance who found this to be a strange occurrence, and the god glanced back and forth between the two of us with an uneasy display of uncertainty.

All throughout my life, the members of this court had tried their best to convince me the gods were indeed a realistic force to be reckoned with. All those sleepy evenings I spent ignoring the teachings of the God Masters during weekly worship could never have prepared me for the feelings now collecting in the balls of my feet. Yes, all feelings of dread put on by my brain and heart were now pooling somewhere in the vicinity of my toes making it impossible for me to charge toward or flee from the frightening presence who seemed to now control what was previously uncontrollable.

“As we are honored by your presence once more, High King Rileos,” my father addressed while kneeling and signaling all others to follow suit. I took a knee as well even though I cared little for formalities.

Ceremony truly wasn’t my thing, but I was scared to death of the consequences if I refused. This thing managed to speak with a beast’s mouth, so I didn’t want to be the first to discover whatever else this abomination had up its sleeve. Too many unwanted bedtime stories on the subject left me to wonder if any of them held truth. This legendary High King Rileos could turn me to ash with the snap of his overly long fingers according to the “comforting” tales parents told their sweet children as a sleep induced bargaining chip.

“Again, your humility within your own home warms me like no other,” said the creature, still not doing so through any type of easily manipulated orifice. “Me and mine have journeyed far to observe the progress within your kingdom and to collect on the debt as agreed upon during our last meeting.”

I held back a worthy laugh as to not disturb the already trembling court or the being who somehow stood above all at a mere five feet tall. This was the reason for their visit? King Wrath owed some sort of a debt to the sky gods, and they’d finally arrived for payment? This was rich indeed! I couldn’t help but hope that the ancient posterior whisper known as my dear old dad didn’t have enough to send these oddities packing and they took him away as some sort of compensation. I bit my lip to the point of near bleeding in anticipation for his retort.

To be honest, we rarely had the means to feed ourselves now with the recent uprising in Quimper. That was the village responsible for filling our bellies with fish and livestock and Lord Chelios Sert dropped the reins on that duty months ago. De Haro was farming day and night to fulfill the needs of Blanchet but if I had to eat one more damned salad…

 I planned to scream without a mouth like this abomination standing above the crowd in all his or her five-foot glory. He sounded like a man, for sure, but sometimes that can be deceiving as well. Like I said before, we were not as wealthy as the commoners believed us to be. There were times before I was romantically involved with my stepmother that I had to purchase a maiden from the discount shelf. Still, Lord Ferrel’s vegetables weren’t going to be enough to quell the debt I imagined my father owed to heavenly beings who actually “flew” some type of otherworldly boat to get here. 

It looked as though the High King was about to speak on behalf of my father’s elongated silence when he appeared distracted. Tilting its head to the side like a curious beast of the forest attempting to decipher a trapper’s riddle, the god slid back a portion of its silver tunic to reveal a belt containing several strange devices. At least they were strange to me. Again, many in attendance had dealt with the likes of this being at least once in their lifetime, yet, somehow, they appeared just as frightened and on edge as my lover kneeling beside the king. The god known as Rileos removed a calendrical, elongated object from the belt and held it behind its back as though he planned to need it at a moment’s notice. For the sake of my telling, I’m going to pretend this thing is of the male persuasion. Voice, movements, and mannerisms all seemed to lead toward the existence of testicles, because he was damn sure of himself and his presence within my father’s home.

“Zellot Canaby, is it?” the High King inquired. “It has been many a year since I’ve laid eyes upon you. You appear to have grown quite a bit from the child who stood before me during our last acquaintance.”

“General Canaby if you will, my lord,” replied my father’s head guard.

“Oh, by all means General Canaby,” returned the god. “Heaven forbid I do not give credit where credit is due with such an important title within the royal court. As I was saying General Canaby, my inner voices are telling me that you have something on your mind you wish to share with me. Being a god of infinite wisdom and knowledge, I already know what it is you plan to say, but I wanted to hear the words come from your own mouth. I like the gestures, you see, considering you speak with quacking mouths like the ducks of the ponds.”

I was beginning to like this god person increasingly with each passing second. At first, I wasn’t impressed much by the amount of fear existing around him – regardless of height, or a lack thereof – but this thing had a mouth on him after all!. He called Zellot upon the royal rug and inquired as to why he looked as though a bird truly existed within his back door region! I waited impatiently for the answer I hoped would come, but then my common sense looked past the obviously humorous wish and informed me of something dreadful.

From what I was gathering, the High King Rileos possessed the ability to read the minds of those he gazed upon with those blinding suns he chose to call eyes. I hoped above all hope that he dared not look in my general direction. Trust me, whatever he found banging around inside this head of mine would be somewhat less than god-worthy. The last thing I needed now was this most unusual guest reading into my true thoughts concerning the queen or my severe hatred for my father, brother, and everyone else who stood in his presence. I certainly didn’t want him to find out that I was frightened within an inch of my own life for him, his kind, and where he came from. He’d be pissed to know I slept through all those boring sermons about him during my upbringing.

The creature moved his hand in a circular motion as though he insisted the General move onward with his insolent request only to be seen by the gifted deity.

“High King, I mean no disrespect, I just…”

“Of course you mean disrespect, General Zellot Canaby,” exclaimed the god. “Anyone I’ve ever met, whether it be in the land of Lynnwood or in places beyond the comprehension of your feeble mind, have intended to disrespect me by merely stating that they meant no disrespect. That said, my dear General, get on with it. Please enlighten me by revealing your obviously disrespectful thoughts.”

I couldn’t help but notice that King Wrath was moving a little further and further away from General Canaby with each moment. He’d even taken S’Varick by the arm and pulled her along with him. Prince Killian was following suit on the other side of the man who was now the center of attention within the royal court. He, as usual, was staring at me from across the chamber as though I was again the cause of his discombobulation. The look in his eyes revealed he was about to confess despite consequences.

“You’re late, High King,” Canaby belted throughout the chamber with unwarranted volume. “The boy has become a man within the five years of your tardiness and will taint the goods you’ve gathered beyond the stars with his impure seed! It would be an unclean act to stud him as was once prophesized before his birth and all you’ve worked so hard to maintain will …”

“You’re out of place, Zellot,” interrupted my father, obviously embarrassed by Canaby’s outburst before the god. “You have no right to lecture our gods on schedules nor reveal secrets to my own son before the rightful owner of such mysteries could reveal them in a proper manner.”

Wait. What?

My mind raced like the wind along the rocky faces of the Cliffs of Sasser and my heart sunk somewhere in the vicinity of my leather boots. The possibilities of what my father, the general and the High King discussed were endless, but they all had one thing in common. The subject of their conversation dealt directly with my own fate and, to be honest, I wasn’t the hugest fan of the outcomes. Prophesies, studying, and goods? My own thoughts led me in places my legs didn’t want to follow. If it had anything to do with having sex with any of these scaly bastards, then “Little Connor” refused to go there as well. There was only one way to find out.

“With all due respect, your highness, I believe it’s time for me to join in on this conversation. I’m not sure who promised you what all those years ago, but I can assure you that, not only were they a liar, but they were also a big liar!”

“Mind your tone, boy,” my father exploded in anger. “How dare you speak to our gods in such a way!”

“They’re not my gods, father,” I cried. “They’ve never been my gods. I’ve watched you and yours bow to these beings my entire life and I never truly knew they existed until a couple of hours ago. I was disgusted before that discovery and I’m even more so now that I’ve had the displeasure of standing in their presence. I’ll be damned if I’m leaving Lynnwood.”

With that announcement, I drew my sword in the most theatrical manner imaginable. I hoped beyond hope that the image of my doing so would cause the celestial abomination to stand down. It did nothing of the sort. He just stood there smiling. Yes, I know the creature didn’t have lips to display such a feature, but it had cheek bones for. At the moment, his face stretched tight against them as though he were imitating the actions of someone who could grin like a beast of burden eating ground fruit.

Rileos stated nothing in retort of my defiance. He hadn’t hesitated to verbally attack the general when he blurted out the big secret, but the High King continued to stare through me as though he were attempting to figure out where I got my nerve in the face of his holiness. Had no one in the land of Lynnwood or any other blob of who-knew-what ever told them “no” before? If that was indeed the case, then I was totally honored to be the first. His skin didn’t look all that thick. I’d bet coins to cocks my sword would make quick work of this poor idiot who chose to stand before the royal court alone rather than bring his fellow travelers along for safety.

I took a single step with my blade aloft toward the god before I was knocked on my tail by the blast. Oddly enough, it wasn’t even aimed at me, whatever it was, but the brilliance of its power stunned me off my feet. Instead, the focused beam of light found General Canaby instead. He got about half of a scream out before the expression of horror on his face exploded into a cloud of powdered ash. His armor merely stood empty as though he still existed within by using some odd power of invisibility. I immediately tucked my sword back inside its welcoming sheath and wondered what it would be like to stud to a planet full of snake women. I mean, for all I knew, I’d be servicing the men too. A small price to pay when compared to being turned into a pile of dust on the receiving end of a fire weapon? For now, at least. I was a sneaky bastard when needed. The queen would agree.

“Prince Connor Wrath of Lynnwood, I call upon you to fulfill your prophesized duty as promised by your father King Collus Wrath upon your birth.”

The god spoke not out of anger, but of certainty. He deeply held all the pieces upon the game board with possession of that strange weapon still smoking in his right hand. There was a reason he had yet to secure it again behind his tunic. He still had plans if necessary. I felt no intentions of harming – unless you counted being a sex slave to a crop of strange beings harmful – so I decided to evaluate the waters of his holiness just a bit before complying.

“Forgive me, High King,” I said humbly. “I meant no disrespect to you and yours, you see. This family secret just came as a bit of a shock to me since no one ever bothered to clue me in on my so-called destiny. Don’t get me wrong, I’m both impressed and pleased by the way you redecorated General Canaby over there and plunging my loins into the nether regions of lizards has been a dream of mine since childhood. With that out of the way, what if your stud refuses to get on the ship with all your friends out there? What are my options?”

Indeed, there was a reason the high king had yet to stow his weapon out of sight. He immediately turned it in the direction of where my father stood. With a flip of a previously unseen switch, the weapon began to glow with a red-ish tint and squealed like a sow headed to slaughter. The once interpreted smile of High King Rileos no longer existed upon his face. Instead, an angry scowl of disapproval took its place.

“That’s an easy inquiry, young prince,” he explained. “You have no options. Not only will I drag you into the heavens kicking and screaming like the beast you were bred to be, but I’ll blast your queen into nothingness just like I did the good general. Am I understood, or would you like to assess my moxie even more? I am your god after all, Prince Wrath. I know and see what others have not.”

With that, he had me dead to rights. I thought for sure he intended on threating my father at the beginning of my useless rant, but he truly saw through my disguise like the god he was. Surely I would’ve let him blast my own father into oblivion before agreeing to leave the castle of my birth, but there was no way I could allow him to harm the woman I’d grown to love over something as trivial as stubbornness. Granted, it was the destiny of my own future at stake here, but stubbornness, nonetheless. Who knew? Perhaps the females of their species were quite attractive. I had no choice but to take a chance on that logic. I knelt to his holiness in acceptance.

Both my father and stepmother breathed an audible sigh of relief upon my willing knee, although I’m sure the king had many questions for S’Varick as soon as I was shuffled off in the direction of their ship. Glancing into the face of the royal taint who fathered me verified my assurances and an expression of anger like that of the high king ran across his face when our eyes met. I don’t think it was the fact I’d slept with his wife repeatedly in secret since their marriage, but the way I did so. He was my father, and the apple never falls far from the tree. I’m sure back in his day he’d slain many a maiden with a skill and grace sung about on the lips of whores in taverns from Mewes Inlet to Bluth Bay. That’s what killed him inside. Not that I did it, but how I did it.

The queen, on the other hand, knew the thoughts running through both our heads because she smiled from ear to ear. There was a hint of sadness within that smile, but happiness reigned supreme upon her face. Even though her plaything was leaving her life for good, it meant she could now live an existence without secrets and sneaking through the halls in darkness like a fat man craving meat and mead on a full moon. Soon, age would conquer my father’s body, and she’d betrothed to my brother Killian as the new king. I wasn’t quite sure if he could take her to bed as well as I could, but his youth and strength would be welcomed traits above sleeping with my father. In the end, we both knew exactly what we were for one another. An escape from the mundane and a spot upon the sheets for a night’s worth of sweet dreams. At least that’s what I wanted her to believe she was. I don’t believe there was any way I could intentionally hurt her.

“Guards, seize Prince Wrath and escort him to the ship,” my father commanded with an obvious hint of hatred in his voice. I worried not since I’d earned every bit of it. Every handmaiden in the land could scrub S’Varick Wrath for a fortnight and not erase the artwork I’d painted across that woman’s body.

Appearing from the main hall, their iron boots skid across the moist stone floor of the castle court room. I was surrounded. None bothered to draw their weapon like they would for any lesser being in my situation, but they did take my sword from my belt for good measure. I may or may not have been ignorant enough to pull some final heroic effort to save my future from unknown torture. No one in attendance could be sure, not even myself, so it was the right move to make. No need to attempt spilling whatever colored blood ran through the veins of the High King on my way out the door. The abomination had none to begin with. Gods they were, indeed, with such cryptic nonsense bouncing about within the heads of their legion of worshippers.

“Well, father, it’s been fun,” I taunted as I neared the door. “I can’t say that I’m going to enjoy every second of the thoughts and actions fatefully torturing my soul from now until a potential eternity, but at least I won’t be slumbering beside my spawn’s toy, both past and present!

“Good riddance to you, Prince Connor,” the king spoke painfully through gritted teeth. “May your days be filled with torment and your path never lead home.”

That poetic bastard. If only I’d thought of something as creative as that on my way through the chamber rather than a stab of “Ha ha, I slept with your girl” proportions. I really needed to work on my retorts between futuristic sex sessions. Yes, that’s exactly how I plan to spend my spare time as the “HPIC” of creating some strange, new species. After cleaning up, I mean. Surely they’ll provide someone for such services, but I have my doubts. Damn, this has been a strange day the likes of which I pray to never repeat again.

Praying.

That’s a joke in itself. I guess I’ll never have to do any of that again. All I must do is yell down the hall of wherever they decide to chain me up and the gods will surely hear my pleas. The convenience of it all seemed more enjoyable than sitting lord’s day to lord’s day in a boring, dank chamber full of dying, coughing human shells who hoped beyond hope some imaginary hand would descend from the heavens and scoop them up into a more enjoyable eternity. Now, against my will, I was in their employ and easily outranked those sniveling church goers who fought through sleep and sodomy to appease the self-proclaimed holy men of Lynnwood. To them, I was now one of the gods.

Chapter 5

3.0

            It was unbearable, almost to the point of intoxication. The godly duo who walked me to their monstrosity of craft smelled strongly of something familiar, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. Something like the place where the livestock cats did their business after a long day of keeping mice from the food stores. It stung like winter rain upon an irritated face.

            They never said anything to me as I was led from the castle, and neither did anyone from Lynnwood. They gawked in shock, afraid of the leathery beings with weapons to my back for either their own safety or my compliance. Their implied cruelty seemed more like an act than an order, like children mocking bloody battles with pieces of twigs and driftwood. At this point, I had no plans to defy their orders. Death wasn’t in the cards for me on this day, but I’ve been taken by surprise on more than one occasion by what my body could live through.

            The ramp to their craft was like the metals used in our own weapons and armor, meaning I wasn’t so alone in this world after all, especially if we shared materials. Either these monsters lived in this same land or this was undeniable proof of their past visits. For all I know, my ancestors helped them build these vehicles using our own materials. Then again, perhaps they’re the ones who brought those same items to us during our fledgling attempt at early life. That, to me, sounded a lot like what I imaged a god to do, so I wasn’t going to put it past them. They wanted me to impregnate the females of their world as some type of punishment. Just as long as they looked like me, it wouldn’t be punishment.

On the other side of that logic, everyone looks like a queen when the torches burn dim. Surely I could do this without much difficulty. All that mattered now was holding in the sickened urges of my queasy stomach while giving them a “thank you” kiss on the forehead. It was my signature move, some would say.

With my thoughts running wild as I traversed their ship, not to mention the pointed, yet dulled, weapons placed to my back by the royal guards, we came to my new temporary home: a holding cell. It wasn’t anything like the one I used for storage and hideaway loving in the dungeon below Castle Wrath. No, it was the most sterile environment I’d ever experienced via my own senses. There was something quite magical about it, and I wasn’t about to sell these beings short. Perhaps they were the gods my deceased kin all claimed to have met at one time or another in their pitiful lives.

            “Stop here,” ordered the one to my right. Shouldering his odd weapon, he tilted his clawed hand to reveal more of a human-like fingertip. Tapping on a numbered panel, the secure pod unlocked its innards to the awaiting guest; me. They led me inside with much less force than exhibited during my exit from my father’s court. Was it a possibility they were only putting on a show for the masses to keep fear as their ally? Why not? It was the same act my father pulled on his own subjects and not much different from the tactics I’d use upon my own subjects for the sake of compliance. My interpretation was that these sky gods had perfected their craft through repetition and cohesion. The difference being that they were really, really ugly.

            Then again, to them, I may appear to be horrendous. Those two guards may think I’m the most disgusting being they’ve ever laid their piercing eyes upon. They were indeed a bit standoff-ish in their duties as though I were comprised of shite and muck while walking upright. Still, they were oddly courteous when it came to my handling. Gently, they placed me inside the holding chamber and secured the door on their way out. They disappeared in unison behind a much friendlier looking passageway.

            At first glance, it appeared as though I could physically maneuver my way through the confinement materials currently keeping me jailed. A hard punch or two might overtake the structural integrity of the slick bars interrupting my current freedoms. As soon as I gained the courage to touch them, I couldn’t help but recall no similarities to anything I’d ever laid hands upon. Perhaps this was as common to their kind as stone and wood were to mine. Like I said, I’d just touched it. Beating the life from it to see if I could somehow break through would be later on if I found out there’d be no godlike sexual intercourse sessions in my near future. If it was any consolation, I needed little training in matters of the flesh, just as long as it was flesh that looked a lot like my own.

            Unexpectedly, the two escorts responsible for leading me from my father’s court to the innards of their craft returned to the chamber through the only other passage leading into or out of the room. Accompanying them was another creature like themselves, only he appeared much less “royal”. His tattered clothing and scarred face revealed more of a warrior’s essence than someone who bent knee in service to their master. He pulled from their grasp with a jerk of his shoulder slapped an illuminated panel on the far wall of his own holding cell. Doing so caused a softer looking ledge to reveal itself from the previously flush wall. He plopped down furiously like a child went to bed without supper.

            “You rat bastards!” he growled with his gravely, god-like voice. “You know damned well that it wasn’t me. I’ve got much more respect for my fellow lizards than that, fools!”

            The guards scoffed at him with a snort of their defined snouts and secured the cell door behind them. In response, the stranger beat his fist upon his makeshift bed with anger hot enough to actually feel on my side of the bars. Small talk was in order to see if I could make the obviously idiotic among them leak secrets. If not secrets, then at least some truths.

Luckily, he broke the ice first.

“So, pale face, what are you in for?” he asked as though neither of us were in unique situations.

“In for?” I followed. “I’m not quite sure what you’re implying.”

“Locked up!” He shouted, clearly perturbed. “I mean what did you do to get thrown into this here prison cell? They’re not locking all the naked apes up, I see, which means you’ve done something especially noteworthy in the eyes of the gods.”

            This odd creature was unusually calm about both our situations until he wasn’t. His conversations burst rather than flowed. From what I could tell, his own people weren’t too proud of his existence either. This could very well be my first friend in a strange, new world.

“Oh, they’re going to ship me off to wherever you hail so I can impregnate…something. I haven’t quite figured that out yet and the ones who led me here weren’t too keen on speaking. Your lord was quite specific about my agenda before I was taken away, but perhaps that was just a ploy to get me out of the castle in a non-violent matter.”

I was suddenly startled by his boisterous laughter. Like flames to a testy village, he exploded. Although muffled as he doubled over – his animal-like snout managed to fit between his legs – I could still tell he found my predicament to exhibit hilarity at my expense. He obviously knew something I didn’t.

“I see,” I said, attempting to do a bit of a table turn on the stranger. “Well, that’s my story to the best of my knowledge. Now, good sir, it is my turn to inquire as to your incarceration.”

His laughter ceased as he meticulously brought his line of sight back to my level. He cleared his throat with a troubled hack and shone a pompous stare in my direction. I don’t think he was too keen on my turning the tables. I recognized that “cough”. Perhaps we were more alike than previously believed, regardless of outward appearance.

“That’s a bit of a convoluted mess, you see. This ship’s God Crop stash began getting a little low and, since we’d been nowhere near a location to trade it for wares and goods, my shipmates assumed I consumed it all.”

Consumed? What was this dietic moron saying? Did the gods eat Crop? These poor souls.

“You know, it’s a lot better if you burn and inhale it. It gives you all kinds of good feelings and…”

“You pathetic monkey!” the creature screamed. “Don’t even begin to tell me what I know and what I don’t know regarding God’s Crop! Do you think that stuff just magically appeared on your insignificant island specked out atop the planet? Did you ever find anything similar to it just growing wild on the outskirts of your primitive encampment? No, you didn’t, because we were the ones who brought it to you.”

Was he serious? No God’s Crop existed in Lynnwood prior to our “saviors’” intervention? I was beginning to have massive doubts about who we were and why we were there in the first place. Crop was basically my entire life outside of bedsheets and swordplay. All differences aside, I may have found my first companion among the sky beings. It just so happened I had a bit in my tunic leftover from mine and Tawn’s rendezvous at my secret watercraft. I pulled my pipe from my pocket, careful to remove the wrap for fear of spilling what remained. Waste not, want not, regardless of the non-existent lips upon my new pal’s face. Everything from this point on in my life was to be lived in gasps and amazement. It resembled being born again to a strange mother. Secretly, I just hoped I was tasked to sleep with women who appeared more like me and less like him. Here’s to hope.

“Well, well, my new friend, what have we got here?” the creature inquired as I struck my flint atop the bowl. The prison chamber collected my exhale in a noticeable ceiling pocket.

“Oh, I believe you’re aware of what I have here, good sir. The true question is whether you’re a friend of Prince Wrath or a foe. Unfortunately, I don’t partake of Crop with foes. By chance, which would you be?”

I could tell he was quite taken aback by my behavior and naturally wanted to play along. On the other side of that conundrum, it was as though he’d been instructed otherwise. His eyes brightened as I took my second toke and contributed another round of faux fog to the ceiling. The lights above us blurred from the collection.

I brought my still smoldering pipe to the edge of the cell bars closest to my newest observer. He licked his lips instinctively as though his own taste buds yearned for the gift. I believed we were now officially on the same level. That was when I broke the tension by presenting my prison mate with a peace offering. He grasped the smoking pipe with his clawed hand to follow suit.

Immediately, I could see his demeanor change as he inhaled my gift. As though universally trained in procedural Crop sharing, he took a second, more defined hit and offered it back through the bars. If I had anything to do with it, me and this stranger would attune famously. He slowly melted into his own cell’s makeshift bed and stared upon me with altered eyes.

“So, let me guess,” I mocked his body’s movements into my own bedding. “You’re the whipping boy of your clan as well?”

This Crop was taking hold in a way worthy enough for celebration or holiday. Perhaps his tongue would loosen a bit now that I’d broken the metaphorical wall of differences between the two of us. It was a good thing since I had long since tired of being the only one granting information. This being held enough knowledge to keep me interested from now until the dirt.

“Whipping boy is a point of view and a bit harsh for someone who doesn’t even know his own sphincter from a hole in the ground,” he said as he exhaled again. “As of this moment, you think everything you’ve ever learned during your miniscule life upon a tiny rock is the be all/end all of existence. I’m here to tell you, son, you don’t know jack-diddley-hoo-ha regarding how your world turns. Let’s just say you’re in for a shock of cardiac-arrest proportions. My gods, wait until you encounter the Mayor, or the Hoodie Queen for that matter. You’re going to absolutely love them and their disgusting quest for dominance upon the home you so recently believed you and your people owned. Seriously, when you finish your conversion therapy downloads, you’re going to wish your own head exploded long before the procedures began. I’ve seen dozens of monkeys like yourself crack before the five-minute mark…”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “You’re using words I can’t even comprehend or have never heard before while journeying through that ‘miniscule life upon a tiny rock’. What is conversion therapy? It sounds painful.”

“Ah,” he continued with an eerie light in his eyes. “Pain is also a point of view. What may be excruciating for you might be pleasurable for me. If you think I’m going to spoil the surprises you have in store, you’re gravely mistaken. Besides, I don’t even know you well enough to be sympathetic toward your existence. You’re so concerned about who I am and what I’ve done to be in such a predicament, yet I know nothing about you. Since I’m certain the both of us will be in these cells for at least the duration of one of your evenings, perhaps you should stop welching on your end of the incarceration bargain. Maybe if I knew a little bit more about you, then I’d be inclined to loosen my lips.”

In the grand scheme of things, what could it hurt? I asked myself this question repeatedly as though I was attempting to convince myself of a full confession to this newest of strangers. In the end, what was a fellow prisoner going to do to me? Tell all his scaly brothers and sisters my deepest, darkest secrets? Hold it against me next time there’s an extra chunk of flesh at the dinner table? Tell my mother? She and I have enough secrets as it is. Had, I mean. She and I had secrets. I’m sure the King is still fuming in regard to my latest maternal research projects. We weren’t blood, after all. It was more like having a girlfriend who stopped by daily for kisses and such and then went home to rub her husband’s feet. It just all seemed to work out in my favor until it didn’t. Besides, I hate foot-play. I’m ticklish.

“My name is Prince Connor Wrath. I am the youngest son of King Wrath and second in line for the throne upon his demise. I’m the black sheep of my family, a certified ‘Crop-Head’, an unclean lover to a forbidden lot, and a journeyman without a journey. I was mere moments from launching a boat into the forbidden abyss when you and yours came knocking.”

“Interesting,” he responded, scraping his phalangeal razors across his scaled chin.

The creature was obviously in deep thought brought on by the Crop we shared. I felt his pain. So far, neither of us said much to break the ice. I don’t mean I’d jump him and beat him into submission if the doors were to open, but I wasn’t planning on romping giddily through the long grass hand-in-hand with the abomination either. There was something in his demeanor which rubbed me the wrong way, and I’m an expert in wrong-way rubbing. Laying nude in breezy bed chambers with a woman you call ‘honey’ in one breath and ‘mother’ in another will do that to a man. It’s disgusting in hindsight if you’re unaware of the details. I didn’t dare elaborate further for the sake of incarcerated taunting. Those are inescapable.

Whether in exhaustion or revelation, the god-like creature reclined upon his impromptu bedding with his back against the wall. He exhaled deeply as though in deep, hopeless thought; like he’d been in this situation several times before. The miles in his eyes were what made me wish to offer condolences in his direction, but I’ve been fooled before. Deep down, he wanted something from me. Everyone I’ve ever met has wanted something from me. In fairness, I was the same to them. I guess it’s what my kind does to one another, and the gods were no different. Trade talks were in order. I wanted away from Lynwood, and they wanted me to sex their populous with my royal seed. All in all, I guess it wasn’t that bad of a deal. Ultimately, what is sex? Closed eyes, lubricated friction in a tight spot, and repeated thrusting until the job was done. If you were decent, you’d make sure the recipient of said thrusting might get a bit of a treat out of it as well. Trust me; if I must sleep with scaly god-women, they’re not getting theirs. Take that, my disgusting future harem.

It was within that exact moment when my cohort sprung to his feet as though he’d had the most illuminated of bright ideas. He casually strolled toward my place among the bars displaying what I could only interpret as his people’s version of a smile. There were many more teeth involved in his happiness than what I’d like.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “You’re definitely the one I’ve been looking for. You’ll do just fine.”

            Before I could even inquire as to the meaning of his sudden change of heart, High King Rileos entered the prison chamber in hysterics. As though being attacked by invisible pests, he began flinging his royal robes in all directions. He opened the other creature’s cell door without keys or fumbling fingers upon the strange tablet affixed to the door. According to my observations, he was no longer acting kingly.

            “We got to get out of here as quickly as we can, Duke! Get up front and launch this beast back into space. There’s an entire fleet of Grey destroyers headed this way with a purpose.”

            “You’ve got to be kidding me!” exclaimed the being I now knew as Duke. “I slipped down here completely off their scopes just as promised. The swine have really been breathing down our tunics for the last bit. I’m not sure how much longer the peace treaty is going to last if they’re willing to exhibit this much force all at once.”

            The King, so to speak, was appearing much less royal with every passing moment. I didn’t know who the Grey’s were, but they were obviously feared greatly by my newest hosts. I was getting the feeling that I was right all along and my people were duped into being controlled by entities who were no different than the subjects of Lynnwood.

            “I told you this was a bad idea from the beginning! What are we going to do if we get intercepted and boarded? They’re going to find an enormous store of God’s Crop in the cargo hold and a monkey-man in our jail cell. They’ll take us before the Mayor and he’ll feed us to the Hoodie Queen! I’ve heard stories, man. They’re not pleasant.”

            “To the depths with the fascist Mayor and his pet. I’ve got this, man. Trust me.”

            As I watched the drama play out before me, I couldn’t help noticing that these two odd beings were not much different than me and my friend Tawn. We were always being cut off from our itinerary by those who had no business getting involved. These two were scrambling around the craft as though they were interrupted during high shenanigans. It was interesting to see how the other half lived; much like us.

            “Hey, if you guys need help getting out of here, I can be that help.”

            “Quiet, primate!” shouted my currently unnamed captor. “The only reason you’re even here is because I needed an excuse to get this last batch of Crop before the planetary owners caught wind of our grow operation. You and yours are not even supposed to be alive so, congratulations, you’re the chimp who lived.”

            The bad actor was so frustrated by needing to formulate an impromptu escape plan that I don’t believe he took my personal feelings into account. I suddenly had so many more questions but didn’t dare inquire further. The one they called Duke had disappeared from sight completely as though whatever came this way were legitimately dangerous. The last thing I wanted was to dislodge this being’s line of thought. If something was coming to harm, imprison, or kill them, then I was conveniently locked inside their vehicle with no way to save myself. I was at their mercy.

            The ship vibrated intensely, tickling my feet through my boots to the point where I experienced difficulty standing. I fell but immediately sprang back to my feet. That same feeling was entirely too intense for my unprepared buttocks. Perhaps some other time during more pleasant situations.

            “Hang on, monkey, we’re getting out of here!” shouted Duke from an undisclosed location in the craft. “Things are going to get a little bumpy back there and I don’t have much time to explain the details. Just grab hold of something and don’t let go until the screaming stops!”

            Screaming? There’s going to be screaming? I didn’t know whether to cry in fear for my wellbeing or laugh hysterically in a death-defying cackle of lunacy. Who in the name of the recently reintroduced gods had I fallen in with on this most unusual of evenings? All I wanted to do was climb into my boat and sail off into oblivion. It appears I got my wish, only with stranger company. I did exactly what he said without question. He’d obviously played this game a time or two.

            With that, my stomach lurched downward as though I’d fallen from the tallest tree in reverse.

            “Pressuring!” echoed Duke’s voice. “Hold your hands over your ears!”

            Unfortunately, his instructions came a bit too late because I was too busy using said ears to listen to his instructions. The command didn’t even make sense. How could I cover my ears and hear him instructing me to cover my – ouch!

            I held the palms of my hand to both sides of my head as though to prevent the invisible, fire-hot pokers from delving further into my mind. I don’t know what “pressuring” entailed, but it was excruciating. Next time, I planned to be more selective when it came to insubordination. As a stranger, I was simultaneously thrilled and horrified.

            “Don’t worry, primate,” explained Duke’s frantic and clearly frightened partner. “If we can find our way out of this situation, we’ll get you to a download station to help all of this make sense. Just try not to worry too much about it.”

            Worry? Why would I worry? I was in a sky-craft with two of what I could only imagine were bad actors and even worse criminals. They’d managed to pull off something big beneath the very noses of their own overlords, and I was associated with their makeshift heist on an unfortunate whim. I wasn’t even upset yet that they were removing me from everyone and everything I’d known since birth.

            “Oh yeah,” I said under my breath. “This Duke crook is exactly what I’ve sought in my most bizarre of dreams. He’ll do just fine.”

Chapter 6 Coming Soon…