by Rick Johnson
RUN! CLEAR OUT! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THE CRAZY BEASTS RIDING THE DRAGON ARE POWERFUL WIZARDS AND CONJURERS!” yelled one.
“THE DRAGON’S UNDER THEIR SPELL! THEY TRICKED MILKY JOE AND THE DRAGON ATE HIM! SNAP-CRUNCH-SLURP—AND HE WAS A GONER—CLEAN AS A WHISTLE, NOT A SCRAP LEFT—NOT EVER A GREASY SPOT ON THE TRAIL—GONE—GONE—GONE!” moaned another, his eyes rolling in terror.
Another wailing Wrecker, drooling from his mouth, and shaking at the knees, yelled, “THE DRAGON-CONJURER CAN MAKE THEM FLY—AND SHE CAN MAKE AS MANY AS SHE NEEDS TO EAT US ALL! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! SHE’LL KILL US IF WE DON’T LEAVE THE SLAVES AND GET OUT OF HERE!”
Another fell to the earth in a trembling mass of flesh, blubbering and jabbering incoherently. “DAA-DA-DU—DRAGOOSE—DRAGOOSOON—DARGOTON—CHOMPED JOWEE—AIEEEEEE!” The poor beast began spinning on the ground like as if possessed by banshees. AIEEEEEEEE! DRAAGOOOOOOSOONE! ME GONEY!”
The effect of this dramatic performance was electric. Seeing the astonishing transformation of the burly, normally steel-nerved, Wreckers into a lot of blubbering, insane with terror beasts, drained every ounce of courage and reason out of the Mis’tashe guards and workers.
White-faced, the Mis’tashe beasts were frozen in terror for an instant. Then another most amazing thing happened, which sent them running pell-mell across the hills. One of the Wreckers, as part of his frenzied performance, cried out, “AND THE WORST OF IT IS THAT YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT OTHER STRANGE BEASTS SHE CAN CALL IN ON US! SHE CONTROLS THE VERY LEGIONS OF HELL—WHAT OTHER TERRORS CAN SHE CALL UPON US?”
At that very moment, all eyes were suddenly attracted to a curiously humorous, yet, for the Wreckers, terrifying, sight: A troop of nine beasts marching a stark, raving mad Rummer Boar before them at the point of a cutlass.
“By the powers of hell!” the Rummer yelled “Take me back to the King Lizard, you scalawags! Return me to my savior and protector! The lizard armies will keep the birds from pooping on my hat! Don’t take me away from my King, my Lord!”
D’LoodD shouted, “SEE THE POWERS OF THE SHE-HELLION! SEE WHAT SHE’S DONE TO SABRE TUSK D’NEWOLF! THAT BE THE RUMMER BOAR CAPTAIN—AND NO DOUBT ABOUT IT! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!”
“SHE CALLED BIRDS DOWN ON HIM AND DESTROYED HIM!” another Wrecker screamed.
The more the Rummer Boar loudly raved, the more terror his insane ranting caused in the Wreckers and their fellow ruffians.
“AIEEEEEEAHHHHH!” The scream broke from each of the Wreckers and all the Mis’tashe staff as if in one voice. Breaking free from their frozen terror, every muscle went towards full-throated, fully active, terrified flight. In a few moments, Mis’tashe was empty—except for Red Whale, Katteo, their monitor, and the dozens of slaves being held inside the way-station slave dock.
“What now?” Katteo asked quizzically. “What’s that all about?”
“I have no idea,” Red Whale replied, “but a Rummer Boar’s bad news wherever he shows up. I assume all those holding him captive can only be friendly beasts and we should aid them. I’ll ride out and greet our visitors. You stay here and see to the slaves—let them know what’s happening. They may be pretty worked up by all they may have heard.”
“Aye, aye, Capt’n!” Katteo grinned.
Mounting up, Red Whale gave Katteo a determined look and kicked the flanks of the monitor hard. Rearing back, the monitor slashed at the air with its jaws, then tore off like a bolt of lightning, heading straight toward the Rummer Boar and his escort.
Riding directly at the Rummer Boar was a stroke of genius, Red Whale realized as he closed on his prey. The massive dragon-lizard, jaws flashing and snapping, snarling and snorting, coming on like a hurricane from hell, broke the Rummer down completely. Collapsing to his knees, rambling on about bird’s pooping on his feathers and pleading for the Lizard King’s mercy, the Rummer looked blankly into the face of the fearsome monitor as Red Whale pulled up on the dragon’s reins, stopping the monitor directly in front of the now-docile Rummer Boar. Not a word was spoken. Nothing need be said, as the razor-sharp teeth glistened inches from the Rummer’s lowered head, and the dragon snorted hot breath nearly directly into the Boar’s face. The days of Sabre Tusk d’Newolf, terror of the seas, were over.
Helga and Breister Reunited
“Too-Way! friends—what ship?”
Mr. Tigg and Bomper Spits, awakening to find their boat washed up into shallow water near a sandy beach, were startled to see a Cow, an odd-looking Owl, and a female Cougar standing knee deep in the water, looking at them curiously.
Sensing the hail was a friendly greeting, Roolo replied, “Good breeze, mates! No ship at present, as you see—tight scrape a few nights back and wind smashed the ol’ Daring Dream flat. Where are ya bound?”
“They call me Breister. Until recently, I was Toolmaster of O’Fallon’s Bluff—that was a Wood Cow settlement within the Hedgelands. But now we’ve been banished and we’re looking for my daughter, Helga, who came this way to help some shipwrecked sea-beasts she heard are in distress. So you see we’re in a bit of a scrape ourselves.”
“She would be looking for us!” Bomper yelled excitedly. “You must mean the Daring Dream!”
“Don’t know the name,” Breister replied, “might be that, or another—but you sure look like sea-beasts in need of help, which is good enough for me. Now, have you seen my daughter? Did she find you and get you sailing again?”
“Crinoo!” Roolo cursed. “She did find us but we got separated. Then we were supposed to meet her, which is why you find us here. We’ve got to get back to our ship. Our ship’s been taken by Wrackshees and all the crew are captives. We went off to find help to repair the ship, so we could rescue them. That’s how we met Helga.”
Breister and his friends exchanged quizzical looks.
“You’re doing what?” Breister asked.
“We’re looking for help to repair the ship,” Roolo repeated.
“By the Ancient Ones!” Breister laughed. “How on earth is that going to help your mates being—right now as we speak—carried away into slavery? Are you crazy? Whose idea was that? By the Ancient Ones! It will take days to repair your ship and by then your mates will be breaking rock at Tilk Duraow—miles and miles from anywhere you’re going to go in a ship! Are you nuts?”
Had Breister’s outburst not been filled with laughter and good spirit, Roolo and Bomper would have melted into the sand in embarrassment. As it was, they managed to exchange sheepish looks and join the laughter.
“I guess that’s why neither one of us is Captain,” Bomper chuckled.
“And who’s the Captain?” Breister inquired.
“Capt’n Red Whale Gumberpott, mate,” Bomper said proudly, “and not a better Capt’n on all the seas!”
“And where might this great sea-beast be?” asked Breister.
“We don’t rightly know that, mate,” Roolo replied. “He and our shipmate, Fishbum, was on night watch and disappeared just as the Wrackshees were attacking the Daring Dream—they seems to have vanished. Don’t rightly know where they are now.”
Breister, shaking his head in wonder, cast a bemused look at his comrades, who were chuckling among themselves.
“So, this great and daring Sea Captain—just so I understand—this great and daring Captain, abandoned his watch at the first sign of trouble and fled?” Breister said with a laugh. “And that might make a beast like myself wonder if there’s anyone on your ship fit to be Captain? Let’s see, we have four sea-beasts, including the Captain and his mate on watch, all of whom saw an attack coming and all went over the side rather than warn their friends?—Why, it’s a crew of mad-beasts!”
“Beggin’ your pardon, friend,” Bomper said with a hint of edge in his voice, “but Capt’n Gumberpott would never abandon his ship ’n crew—lessin’ he thought he could save ’em somehow—that’s just the plain truth and I’ll be thankin’ you do drop the snickering about him!”
“Fairly told, friend,” Breister smiled, “I wa
s dashin’ to the finish before I had legs to run on—but I’m just a humble carpenter and don’t much understand the ways of sea-beasts. No, I just don’t do things quite like yourselves! A Wood Cow would never abandon home and friends, and now I see that is your way, too. So, I’ll be askin’ your friendship and pledgin’ mine ’till we rescue your mates. I’ll be pleased if you forgive that your ways give me good humor.”
“Just hold it a-time, there, Breister,” Toshty said. Pointing to the point, not far distant, where the curve of the beach hid the sea beyond, he cried, “Scum-Ralleys comin’ ashore! Rummer Boars!”
Breister glanced quickly at the three-masted ship turning around the nearby point and emerging from the trees that had concealed its advance. Flying the Rummer flag—black shark on crimson background—there was little doubt who was coming for a visit. Although he had never encountered them directly, Breister knew about the Rummers. His Cougar friend Annie was from a sea-faring family, and told many stories about the feared freebooters. The “black shark and blood” flag was known to all.
Breister quickly surveyed the situation: open beach, concealment possible only where the forest thickened in the direction of the Rummers, and the only route of escape being the way the he and his friends had reached the beach—a steep open hillside. Breister gave directions: “We gain nothing by fleeing—no time to scale the hill. Let me do the talking and follow my lead. I don’t have a plan yet, but I call on the Ancient Ones for help. If all else should fail, I will use the flicker pole before they can take us captive.”
Within minutes of the ship rounding the point, it had dropped anchor and lowered two longboats. The longboats pulled rapidly up to the beach. A tall, long-tusked Boar, sitting in the prow of the first longboat to touch the beach, was the first Rummer to step ashore. The sea-beast, from his luxurious dress, was obviously the Rummer Boar captain: he wore a heavy black damask waistcoat—black because Rummers’ clothes were traditionally darkened, if not completely blackened by the smoky soot of fires used to roast shark meat; gaudy shark-leather breeches; tall lizard-skin boots reaching half-way up the thigh; an oversized hat with numerous crimson ostrich feathers fluttering in the breeze; a bandoleer of flash gourds; a cutlass and dagger at the belt; and, around his neck, a gold chain hung with dozens of golden shark’s teeth. His authority as Rummer captain, however, was summed up by the Boar’s unusually fearsome curving tusks—which were unnaturally long and sharpened to a point like a dagger.
“I am Sabre Tusk d’Newolf,” the Rummer Captain announced.
Breister saluted the Rummer in a friendly, but not submissive, manner and declared boldly, “I am Breister, Chief of these Beasts of Fortune and I see that you, too, have a quick eye for profit!” He walked to Roolo and Bomper, giving them a quick wink. Then, poking and pinching their muscles, he declared, “I grant you that these two are not great prizes in their physicals. But what is the richest thing you have to trade for what they can tell you?”
A brief jolt of shock shot through Roolo and Bomper as they realized they were pawns in Breister’s deadly game. Stalwart and bold as Captain Gumberpott himself, however, neither sea-beast betrayed fear or surprise. Instead they took up their part of the dangerous gamble.
Roolo suddenly leaped in the keelboat and rummaging frantically, bent down low, seemed to pop something in his mouth, and stood up obviously struggling to swallow something large. Actually, there appeared to be two large objects bulging in his throat, one following the other. Working this mouth and throat, almost gagging and choking, eyes watering with the effort—finally, just as his face began to turn purple and his eyes bugged out, the amazed beasts saw the large objects that had been bulging in his throat slide down and disappear into his gut!
“Mercy me, mates,” Roolo gasped, drawing in a great gulp of air. “The Royal Eyeballs were harder to swallow than I expected!” Taking another deep breath, he continued, “But, if it’s riches ya want,” Roolo scowled, “that’ll show ya that there’s more riches than you’ll ever want. The Royal Eyeballs I just swallowed are immense, perfectly round diamonds. They are among the largest diamonds in the world, and because of their perfection and the fact each has a blue spot making them look like eyeballs, they are priceless beyond value. Priceless, that is, except to those who want to possess them! Now, I ask ya—how much would the Royal Eyeballs be worth to a fine beast such as yourself?”
Watching Sabre Tusk nearly drooling at the prospect, Roolo continued in a threatening tone, “But unless you treat us all fair and square, we’ll never spit a word o’ any riches in your direction.” Indicating Breister and the others, Roolo continued, “When we met up with these rogues, we didn’t trust them and thought at first they might be bandits. So, we hid the Royal Eyeballs—now I’ve swallowed them and that should furl your sails a bit! But, treat us square and you’ll get the Royal Eyeballs soon enough, and what you just saw is my promise I know where there are even richer prizes!” Roolo made this declaration with such convincing passion that even Breister wondered if the statement might be true.
“So you see the bargain we offer,” Breister said coolly.
“We are Beasts of Fortune, but not warriors like yourself. We wish to trade you knowledge of immense riches, for the best of what you have right now—a game of chance is what we offer. Are you bold enough to go for great wealth, or only scrabbling after coins in the endless chase for slaves?”
“Riches are, as riches be,” Sabre Tusk replied. “What riches do you speak of?”
Bomper, always able to come up with a good story, rose to the challenge. Giving the Rummer a sly look, he said, “What riches, you ask? How about an immense cargo of the rarest snakeskins, bolts of fine embroidered leather, cases of the finest bamboo lace, crates of Crabbee spices and Peskee teas, besides gold and jewels enough to buy several Norder Estates. Not to mention plenty of Slug Beer and Fur-Blaze Sauce to keep your crew happy for a long while—all tucked nicely away, as we knows.”
“One fool only I’ll deal with—this is between you and me,” Sabre Tusk snapped at Roolo darkly. “Why should I give a moment’s thought to these lying beasts or that witless bug buzzing away beside you? They’re hardly Beasts of Fortune, no matter what they claim—let’s see, for a leader we have barkskin overalls and worker-beast boots, a fearful hammer and saw at the belt, and a twinkle in the eye—Bah! Hardly stuff to raise up worry. Seems to me, I buy you off, you tell me where the riches are, and I take the rest for slaves! Or, you don’t like that deal and I just split you open stem to stern and take the Royal Eyeballs and call it good enough.”
“Nay!” Roolo said angrily. “Talk that way, you’ll never win the grandest prize of all—and you, being the greatest freebooter of them all, would not settle like that—and on that point, I’ll stake my wager.”
“These beasts are our friends now,” Bomper added. “We protect our mates—you treat them as you treat us, or no deal.”
“Curse your impudence!” Sabre Tusk snarled. “You’re rascals and that’s for certain.” But the Rummer Boar also stroked his moustache thoughtfully, then stepped forward and squinted at Roolo, then Bomper.
“A trallé for the two of you,” Sabre Tusk said, “but nothing for those other bilge-swilling liars—they live to be fools yet another day, but no charity from me.”
“Not today!” Breister challenged. “We are Beasts of Fortune, like yourself. Leave us out of gettin’ and we might not play nice any longer—it’s not the hammers and saws you have to fear, but this!” He picked up a long staff lying at his feet and held it threateningly. “To be fair, I need to even the odds a bit—as a Beast of Fortune yourself, you’ll understand the rules of this business. You force my hand and I’ll use this flicker pole against you.”
“Oh, my—save me from such a fate,” Sabre Tusk roared. “He’s got a wooden pole and he’s going to use it against us!” Looking around at his men, he said, “Show this idiot what we will answer his mighty pole with, lads!” Instantly, drawn swords, dirks, razor-edg
ed boomerangs, and battle-axes appeared on every side.
“Now, as I was saying,” Sabre Tusk declared, “Two trallés for the fools who have entertained me—I admire their spirit—for the rest of you ‘Beasts of Fortune,’ as you call yourselves, the sand that fills your boots as you run out of here with your heads still on.”
Turning back to Roolo and Bomper, Sabre Tusk growled menacingly, “Now, I advise you two fools to accept my offer not to split you in half and accept the trallés—but you show me the goods and gold before we pull our cutlasses back from your heads.” The Rummer Boar directed two of his crew to position themselves behind Roolo and Bomper, with cutlasses raised above their heads.
“And as for you, Master Sir with the Terror Pole, we’ll just take that, if you please.” Sabre Tusk was about to direct others in his crew to take the flicker pole from Breister, when a strange clattering and oogling caught everyone’s attention.
Glancing up the hillside at the top of the beach, every beast blinked or startled with wonder. Like a fantastic tsunami, an immense moving wave of lizards was flowing over the top of the hill and down toward the beach! Most amazing of all was that a Cow ran at the head of the on-rushing stampede! Although individual lizards were not large, the immense numbers of them made a terrifying sight—especially with the sound of their sharp claws clattering across the rocks on the hillside.
Gooodg-Oog-looo! Oog-Oog-looo! The on-rushing wave of lizards descended in a seemingly endless cascade over the brow of the hill, charging full speed directly at the beasts standing on the beach.
The Rummer Boars, except for Sabre Tusk, did not waste time in retreating to their boats. Running clumsily through the sand, nearly stumbling and falling, Sabre Tusk’s crew jumped in their boats and pushed away from shore, leaving their Captain behind. They did not row for the ship, but stopped some yards off shore to see what the lizards would do when they reached water’s edge.
Sabre Tusk did not frighten easily and his focus on the promise of riches was not diminished by a few lizards—even tens of thousands of them. Breister, for his part, was nearly speechless—he was certain that his daughter Helga was the Cow running among the stampeding lizards! Found!
