Lore of the Underlings: Episode 6 ~ Meeting Minyon (5 page)

“Shhh, his ears are everywhere, friend. He
has allies enough to back his birthright and crush any organized
faction or threat. No, for now his rule is secure and dissent but a
dance in the dark of the night… hidden away from this clear light
of day… shadowy, unseen… for the time being…”

Minyon Myne’s words tailed off to a whisper
as he looked cautiously side to side.

“Although there’s a prophecy that I know, an
old one that foretells a good folk awoken…”

Just then came the call from the council
hall. “Food! Drink! Bring them now!”

A great bull horn blew long and loud.

“Holy cow! That’s sure an earful.” John Cap
cringed at the deafening sound, his square jaw twisted into a
grimace. “I won't ask for whom that big horn blows — I think I
already know...”

Even worse, to add to the young man’s
chagrin, Minyon suddenly turned on him. Tent-bound, that is, and
ready to go.

“Hold on, Mr. Myne — aren’t you going to help
us?”

The man in black made a half loop back. “You
must be patient my foreign son. I will do what I can when the time
comes.”

John Cap slumped his shoulders and sighed.
“Jeez, I’ve heard this song before. Does anything really happen
here?”

“More than you could ever dream,” answered
Minyon cryptically. “In the meantime, please have faith while the
brother Treasuror’s game plays out. The fates have a way of
twisting in court.”

The young Atlas shrugged. “If it’s faith you
want… that’s about all I’ve got. I can count on this fist our other
options — sure as heck nothing to build a case on. Not unless
you’ve got your own Perry Mason standing by to help.”

John Cap noticed that Minyon looked
puzzled.

“What I mean to say is, though we’ve just
met, I really have no choice. Plus you seem like an honest guy. So…
yup, I’ll trust you Mr. Myne.”

The elderman grinned and turned again, but
stopped himself one last time. He stared into space, considering
something.

“You must remember this, John Cap. In our
heartless and bloody land, a kiss is just a kiss. But true friends
and enemies are forever. Choose wisely the new ones you make today
and you’ll taste the fruits as time goes by.”

“Thanks for that classic tip,” chirped John
Cap. “I think we’re beginning a beautiful friendship…”

Eela pursed her lips in the distance and blew
him a parting goodbye. Axon made a throat-slashing motion. With
that, the Mynes were gone.

The crew flew back to their cookery work,
knowing they’d better deliver or else — they’d be battered and
buttered themselves. And so the ale girls made it rain. The lunch
ladies launched their gravy train. “Time to serve!” the battle cry.
All mustered to join the food fight.

“Later, tots!”

“Wait! We’ll catch up!”

They peppered the pathway to the tent, tray
after tray assaulting it. A barrage of meatballs and deviled
eggshells such as the stranger had never seen.

“If I weren’t the turkey, I’d call this
Thanksgiving.” John Cap wasn’t kidding.

Somewhere in the midst of that moveable
feast, three brothers fought earnestly just to make headway.

“Hurry Ayron!”

“You’re falling behind.”

“I’m doing… my best… Ayr…”

“There’s no time.”

“Arrowborne needs us,” huffed Pyr.

“And soon!”

“Before there’s death in the afternoon…”

Somehow they rose to the challenge again,
these sons of Hurx, though not yet men. They met the canvas in
nothing flat and bulled their way right through it.

The three Mynes arrived at the door just
behind them but, unlike the boys, were barred by the Guard.

“Hold there elderman! Not so fast — only the
Treasured of Treasured may pass.” The doorman waved a parchment
skin clutched tightly in his unarmed hand. “The Treasuror’s left a
special list and your name isn’t on it.”

Minyon bowed to the ardent Guard as if he’d
expected every word. “Good soldier, I thank you for your service.
Of course I would expect no less.” His voice rolled out in a velvet
fog, thick as the drunk from a keg of grog.

Axon and Eela prowled in the background,
awaiting a sign, their father’s command. Two trained attack dogs,
canines Myne, minding their master from behind.

All of a sudden Minyon squinted and peered
deep into the doorman’s eyes.

“I sense, brave lad, that your mother’s
unwell… the belly… an infestation, is it?”

“Uh… yes sir. She’s got the hellworms.”

“Yes, and a nasty case of them. I can all but
feel your pain myself, the anguish of watching her waste away.”

“Worse every day,” the pikesman croaked. “The
herber says there is no cure.”

Minyon pressed his palms together. “Fear not.
Tonight I shall pray for her. If I have your faith, my son, she’ll
recover.”

“Thank you, elderman. But I still can’t…”

“You’re doing your job. I understand.”

“Brother Treasuror’s orders,” he
whispered.

Then, like some crow’s cry, a voice of
authority cawed out disturbing the midmorning air.

“What seems to be the trouble here?!”

The voice belonged to Madam Pum, eldest of
the elderwomen and great matriarch of the settlement Keep. Her
ancient face was full of furrows, creases made deeper by a frown
that showed how unamused she was.

The flustered sentry was slow to respond.
Dame Pum did not wait for an explanation.

“Guard! This man is a full-honored elder, the
best and the brightest of our rising stars. You’d be well advised
to learn your place and show him due regard!”

“Yes ma’am. But…”

But she would not hear excuses. Her frown
only deepened. She went on.

“Know too that he serves as my advisor,
confidant, and right-hand man and has from the moment of his
appointment, now two eventful fortnights ago. Imagine — just one
month of moons since anointment and who among us has his gifts? The
kingly instinct, the wizardly wisdom, the vision of a holy man.”
She shook her crooked cane at him. “None but this soul, lowly
doorman, elderman Minyon Myne…

“And now, if I am not mistaken, you’ve found
that name at the top of your list.”

“It was there all along, ma’am.”

“That’s more like it!”

Minyon bent one knee to the ground and gently
took hold of Madam Pum’s hand. He kissed the ring on her wrinkled
finger then bowed his head as if to be knighted.

“I am humbled, Lady Pum, by these honors you
lavish so freely upon me — and all the more by your company, given
how sweet it is.”

The old woman giggled, a gleam in her eye.
“Rise, dear minister. It is time.”

Minyon climbed to his feet again and walked
his patron to the entrance. Axon and Eela fell right behind — until
the doorman blocked them.

“Not you two. I have my limits.” He stuck a
chop stick in their path, a skewer of yellow and black.

They pushed back.

“So!” said the sentry, reacting in kind. He
didn’t give an inch this time.

“You may recognize the head Guard’s pike. I’m
sure he’d be pleased to have me use it. A little blood might shine
it up, once you’re polished off…”

“Enough!”

The elderwoman squawked in anger, flapping
her flabby arms in the air.

The elderman smoothed her ruffled feathers
then calmly called off his prickly pair.

“Axon, Eela — wait for me there.”

Both bared their teeth but obeyed their
father as he vanished through the door.

It was no more than a few seconds later when
Taan-syr appeared and stuck his neck out.

“Serf’s up, coast Guard! Heed my call! Fetch
the captive and head for the hall.”

“Aye sir!”

“We’re all ears…”

“Move your butts! And take the usual
short-cuts.”

The two saluted and set right to it,
whistling while they worked. Their tune was something childlike,
except for a hint of darkness.

John Cap, just unchained from the ground,
blinked as he turned to face the sun. But he had a surprise when he
opened his eyes. “God, you’ve got to be joking dude.” He found
himself drowning or swarmed, all surrounded, up to his lids in
demon kids.

“Now I’ve really seen everything…”

There had to be hundreds draped in black and
hooded each wielding a hatchet or axe, the menacing kind with
half-moon blade as sharp as the edge of night and day. Row after
row in an eerie array… They lined up like children of the corn and
began an enchanting chant.

Charming prince, hi ho hi ho

Be our clown you tight-roped fellow

Or we’ll try you circus-style

And laugh your ringing head off too

Now, big bozo, have a snooze…

As they sang, they spun John Cap like a top.
He could do nothing to make them stop.

“Why don’t you dwarfs go find Snow White
instead?”

It made him dizzy, woozy, and sleepy — a
feeling strange and foreign to him.

“Somebody… set my alarm for seven…”

A wave of them swept him from his feet and
carried him off to meet his fate.

“This, my friend Boxbo, is some
demonstration.”

“New classic, Ixit. A de-Cap-itation!”

The mouth of the great tent yawned wide open
and into the belly of it they went.

Four young flowers of the Keep wilted in the
loveless heat. Petal to petal they clung and wept. At last they had
no dew drops left.

Words were their only consolation.

“O captain, my captain, your trip is
done.”

“The man of my dreams is good as gone.”

“Good knight, sweet prince — it’s over
now.”

“Johnny we hardly knew ye…”

###

To be continued…
Look out for the next
exciting episode of
Lore of the Underlings
!

About the Author

John Klobucher is the author of many
technical manuals that you’d never want to read. But he is also to
blame for
Lore of the Underlings
, this ill-advised epic
adventure that’s available to you in tasty little episodes, with
new ones coming — farm-fresh, organic, and cruelty-free — every now
and again. (For more behind-the-scenes news and nonsense, hie thee
to this bloggery:
loreoftheunderlings.com
).

John has also been known to paint a little,
including the watercolors used in the cover art for
Lore of the
Underlings
.

John lives in Framingham, Massachusetts, USA
with his wife Diane, son Sam, and daughter Mia.

~ ~ ~

Other ebook titles by John Klobucher:

Lore of the
Underlings: Episodes 1 & 2 ~ A Door to the Lore

Lore of the
Underlings: Episode 3 ~ Fyryx

Lore of the
Underlings: Episode 4 ~ The Letting Pen

Lore of the
Underlings: Episode 5 ~ Into the Pit

Print titles by John Klobucher:

The Lore Anthology

~ ~ ~

Visit John Klobucher’s
author
page
at Smashwords.com