The Kings Convoy (The Pauper)
A fantasy story for the IronAge writing prompt: The Pauper.
With grunts and huffs, the green ogres shove the townsfolk of Mook-Ut-Zand aside, the royal convoy creaking over the cobbled roads behind them. The bustling street opens up with traders shuffling their goods aside and patrons squashing into the doorways. Eftaly watches from the edge of an alleyway, the salty breeze blowing through his draughty rags making his fur stand on end while he nibbles at his bread, which he is told doesn’t crunch in the rich parts of town.
Coach after coach hauled by snorting Carthogs clank past, rocking side to side with the treasures inside crashing and clattering. The hunched reinsmen look sleepy, padded in their thick furs with the odd trinket swaying with their fluffy hats pulled down over their eyes.
The captain leading the convoy, sways as he walks, adorned in garb quite stylish for the king’s guard with ill-fitting plates, clearly meant for men, strapped to his chest and a long sword, actually two lashed together, slung over his shoulder.
While most merchants are quick to scramble their goods aside, old man Schulz, the heavy chest merchant, heaves heartily against the iron chest afront his shop, managing only to rock it slightly before looking at the convoy just in time to see the hand of the captain sweeping towards his face. Poor man Schulz tumbles over his chest and rolls into his shop, much to the amusement of the leader and the alarm of the coachman, who now, lifting his hat, grunts at the chest, yanking the reins but not in time. The chest heaves the wooden cart onto two wheels. It rocks, waddles, sways, and lurches side to side. The Hogs squeal. The coach man falls from his seat and with an almighty crash, the cart smashes to the ground and the rear doors burst open, scattering about the street all manner of golden trinkets, coins, candelabras, sparkling jewellery, and even the odd Christmas stocking still stuffed with gifts.
In the moment of silence that follows, the townsfolk exchange looks, as if to affirm that they have in perfect unison all thought the same thought. GOLD!
A moment later the street erupts into a flurry, men, women, and kings guard flying in all directions. Eftaley drops his bread, watching the commotion as glittering jewels, silver chains and foreign coins bounce down the cobbles to the clawing of desperate hands. Old man Schulz leaps from his shop and disappears into the fray. Eftaley rushes to the edge of the commotion and weaves his way into the tangle of bodies. He dives for a small amnesty which is flicked from his grasp by an errant foot. He ducks beneath a blacksmith’s tunic and spies, through the dancing feet, a golden shell. A boot clouts his face and clasping hands yank on his big ears as he ducks and swerves between their legs. Then, just as his grasps the golden shell between his paws, the sea of feet clears from around him. He glances over his shoulder and notices the townsfolk retreating with some haste, and when he looks forward, he sees why. Towering above him, in torn furs and a wonky hat, a gargantuan and very, very, very grumpy coachman. The ogre swings his giant club, and Eftaley scurries away, just not in time. The club clouts his bottom and sends him soaring into the air. The golden shell slips from his paws. He lurches forward, but only his tiny blunt claw scrapes along its edge as the shell tumbles into the crowd.
Eftaley smashes into a wall and lands face down in the damp alleyway. He jumps to his feet and spins in circles, his eyes scouring every crack and cobble for the shell. He races back into the street, searching under lost hats, torn coats, and the occasional left boot, before a rumble pricks his ear. He looks around to see a stampede of maddened ogres hurtling down the cobbles and promptly leaps back into the alleyway.
The ogres smash into a crowd further down the street, jewels and townsfolk hurtling into the air. He hangs his head and slumps towards his damp wooden box, which sits in the middle of the alley where the guttering drips and the light is scarcely present. He pulls his blue cloak around as a chill gusts down the alleyway. He notices a new hole in the left-hand side which aligns just perfectly with the hole in his brown rags. Eftaley rubs his sore cheek, then ruffles the dirt from his brow. Then, something round and slippery causes his foot to flick from under him. The object clacks against the wall and spins back into the alleyway, landing just ahead. He picks it up and rubs his eyes. His reflection is staring back at him, just as surprised as he is. No matter the pain in his head, or the chill on his chest, a smile sweeping across his face wipes them away and little Eftaley bounces with excitement. His thoughts quickly dart to the king’s guard, glancing towards the street, but he seems to have gotten away with it.
He stands there and admires his new trinket, wondering what he might buy with it. A new box that doesn’t leak, a cloak without a draft, or maybe… His mouth waters at the thought. Bread that doesn’t crunch. He turns his shell around, admiring it from all sides. It appears to be in two halves, with small holes dotted around the edge. He looks into one of the holes and much to his alarm, it looks back. Two eyes poke from the shell and Eftaley tosses it into the air. It lands on the ground as eight waggling legs emerge from the side and two claws, one bulging and one tiny rock the shell upright. His shoulders slump and his smile becomes a scowl when he realises that the shell already has an owner. A little golden crab, no bigger than his paw, staring up at him from the floor.
It seems neither know what to make of the other. The little crab waves its claw. Eftaley huffs. He turns his back on it and crawls into his box. A drip of water lands on his cheek. He licks the first drop, and another falls, repeating its rhythm while he pulls his cloak a little tighter.
Then something pointy pokes his toe. The little crab staring at him from outside. Eftaley pulls the cloak over his head. Then, the prodding of pointy feet scurries over his shoulder. He ignores it, until he hears a crunching noise, and peaks through the hole in his cloak. A small pot in the corner rocks side to side. He clamours over and looks in.
“Egh” he thinks, watching the crab pick at his last lump of bread. He snatches it away and leaves the little thing looking bemused in the bottom of the jug. He shoves the bread under his cloak and hurries out into the alleyway. The little crab clatters over the cobbles and slumps at his feet. He notices it, staring up at him. He tries to ovoid looking at the little thief, his big watery eyes, his legs loosely tangled at his side, and a faint quiver in his eye stalks. Try as he might. Looking away. Clenching his teeth. Clutching his cloak. He gives up, and tosses it the lump of bread, which it heartily begins picking at.
Just down the alleyway he hears the jeering of a merry old time bellowing from a doorway. Slinking up to the glass, he stares into the backroom of the bakery. A gang of fat merry drunks are planted around a table, on stools too small, glugging pints of rum beside a roaring fire with coins piled on the table, rings strewn down every finger and golden chains crowding their neck so thickly they have to hold their tankards up in the air and pour rum into their mouths at arm’s length. As he watches, a plump old woman with rosy cheeks barges through a door carrying a tray of steaming buns which she slams onto the pile of coins eliciting rowdy cheers from the drunks. Their cheeks bulge as they stuff in handfuls of buns, swishing them down with rum that pours over their cheeks. Eftaley presses his nose against the glass, eyes wide and mouthwatering. Suddenly something pecks his cheek. The little crab, sat on his shoulder staring through the window with him. With his big claw, he offers Eftaley the last chunk of bread.
A sudden noise from inside the room startles them both. Their eyes fixate on the sight of the plump old women, twirling through the air, her teeth sailing alongside her head before she crashes into a cupboard. The kings guard pour into the room and neither drunk nor ogre is a match for the other as both flail clubs aimlessly, hitting their own as often as they hit each other. Then, the captain waddles into the room, ducking under the doorway. He surveys the commotion, contemplating just how to wrest control of the brawl, and with the full intellect and tactical prowess befitting a ranked and respected ogre of his station, swings his club through the air, sending both ogre and drunk hurtling across the room, towards the door, towards Eftaley.
His eyes meet the flying ogres and the little crab tugs on his ear. The brawl crashes into the alleyway, Eftaley scurrying away and bounding into his box. The drunks trip and tumble towards the street, with the ogres thundering past and the clatter of jewels raining across the cobbles. He emerges to survey the damage and sees the little crab spinning around in the alleyway. He stops him, and the golden fellow staggers around in circles. Eftaley picks him up and brushes the dirt from his shell. He looks towards the street and sees three ogres standing at the mouth of the alleyway. The captain, towering above him, blocks out what little light the alleyway gets, and when he sways around, his eyes look straight into Eftaley’s. The little crab promptly retreats into his shell, as the captain’s eyes wander across and fix onto the little, golden trinket. He whacks his guards on the back, who turn around and spot Eftaley. A quick glance at each other; a conniving smile creeps up their cheeks. By the time they look back, Eftaley is already halfway down the alley.
Eftaley runs as fast as tiny legs will carry him, the ogres waddling behind him at breakneck speed. the little crab peaks one eye out. Eftaley darts around a corner, the first ogre smashing into the wall, the second into the first ogre, the captain into both. The little crab is jolted from his shell when Eftaley tosses him onto his shoulder. It clings to his cloak slipping down until it finds its and bouncing around as Eftaley runs.
The ugly brutes bound towards them, when Eftaley makes a sharp turn, swinging the little crab around and whacking him against the wall. He clamours up a drainpipe and onto the roof, his little claws slipping on the tiles before he flops onto his belly. Now he notices that the little crab isn’t on his shoulder. He looks inside his cloak and down his back before looking over the edge. A wooden keg skims his ear, startling him onto his back to the sound of rumbustious laughter from below. Then he notices the little thing, trembling around his ankle.
He puts the crab under his collar and runs along the roof. Then another barrel flies over his head, tickling the fur on his ears. A box hurtles past his face, then a garbage can tumbles onto roof. An alley cat hisses past his nose and a barrel, smashing onto the eaves, sending splinters of wood jabbing into his face. He shields his eyes but loses his footing and tumbles across the tiles scraping at them to no avail before slipping over the edge and slamming into the cobbles below.
He scrambles to his feet and staggers down the alleyway from one wall to the other while the ogres saunter behind him. He staggers out of the alley and falls to his knees at the edge of a steep drop, staring down into a dark canal some twenty or so feet below. He looks behind to find himself cornered by two of the ogres, who stomp towards him, clubs over their shoulder, smiling fiendishly. The little crab trembles beneath his collar, as Eftaley shuffles backwards, one of his hands slipping off the edge. The ogres stare down at him, and the biggest of the two heaves his club over his head and swings towards them. As it whistles through the air, Eftaley panics and falls off the edge splashing into the water.
The cold bites through his fur and his breathing flutters before he disappears beneath the surface. He writhes and slashes at the water to no avail. The little crab plops up above the surface. He swishes around searching for his friend, but Eftaley doesn’t appear. He looks up the canal, then down, swishing in circles and staring down into the dark waters. Suddenly Eftaley appears, splashing and gasping before sinking back under the bubbles, flailing his arms above the surface, much to the amusement of the ogres above.
The crab spots a plank of wood bobbing on the water. He drags it over to Eftaley who climbs on top of it, coughing up water between gasps of air. The crab tugs Eftaley over to the side of the canal. He comes to rest on a ramp and the soaked little mouse-folk drags himself ashore. Then, stomping above him, the captain waddles into view, the ogres stop laughing when he bonks one of them on the head. Suddenly the captain grunts and points his sword down Eftaley and the crab. The ogres snort and shrug. The captain growls, before pushing one of them over the edge. He glares at the other, who shuffles toward the edge, holds his nose, and jumps off.
Eftaley stands up and catches his breath, lifting the little crab onto his shoulder before looking back just in time to see the first ogre splashing into the water with his arms flailing around. The first ogre pops above the surface just in time for the second to land on top of him. The captain looks down from above. Both ogres have disappeared. Eftaley wonders for a moment weather they can a swim and the captain appears to be wondering the same as he stands on the edge scratching his head.
Suddenly an ogre drags himself onto the ramp and grabs Eftaley’s ankle. He digs his claws into the cobbles and tries to pull himself free but to no avail. The crab runs down his leg and scurries onto the ogre’s arm before raising his big claw and clamping it onto the dumb brute’s nose. The ogre jumps to his feet swiping at his face as he stumbles backwards into the other one and they both stumble back into the canal. The crab leaps onto the cobbles and races back to Eftaley. Grabbing his little friend, he runs away while the ogres punch each other in the shallows.
He darts from the alleyway into the crowded street. The evening sun shines in his eyes, and he smashes into a cluster of barrels. A sailor swings his boot at Eftaley, catching him on the shoulder and knocking him into the path of an oncoming cart. The Horse rears and wails as the reinsman is almost thrown from his seat by the sudden stop. The horse backs up until the man jumps down and grabs its rains, stroking a hand down its face. The man swipes at Eftaley mumbling insult under his breath.
He hurries around the cart but stops at the sight of two dripping wet ogres. Eftaley climbs onto the cart and whips the rains. The horse knocks the reinsman aside and gallops down the street. The cart rumbles through the crowd, bouncing over the cobbles, onlookers leaping for safety. Then, the horse squeals and skids to a stop at the crest of a steep hill. Eftaley whips the rains, but the horse won’t have it and backs up. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get much time to coax the creature, a sword smashes through the roof of the cart. The captain grabs for Eftaley and smashes his fist into the wooden cart splintering it and sending the wheels bouncing over the crest of the hill. He yanks at the cart, ripping away bits of wood as Eftaley clamours to avoid him. He jumps onto the horses back when horse suddenly breaks free and begins galloping down the hill.
He looks back briefly to see a king’s guard bounding over the crest of the hill and waddling after him. Though he doesn’t know the speed limit of a horse, the horse seems to think it’s reached it, when it plants all of its hooves into the ground and begins skidding down the hill swerving side to side as onlookers wave, jeer, and shout. He looks back at the ogre, its legs almost a blur as it looks like he too, has reached his speed limit, wabbling and swerving before losing his footing and rolling down the hill.
Eftaley looks forward and sees the docks at the bottom approaching much faster than he’d like, so fast, that he hasn’t the time to think before the horse hits the flat and skids to a halt, kicking its rear legs and tossing Eftaley over its head sending him bouncing down the pier and hurtling towards the bay where his cloak snags on the splintered wood and yanks him to a stop, tearing it from his neck and slamming him against the deck, throwing the little crab across the planks.
The little crab digs his claws into the wood and stops himself just short of falling off the edge. He looks back at Eftaley, lying on the deck.
The ogre tumbles to a stop and lands upside down just before the pier, slumping onto his back. When he sits upright, he sways from side to side, before his club, somersaulting down the hill smacks the back of his head and bounces into the ocean, he sways in circles a few more times before falling flat on his back.
The little crab looks over at Eftaley, his head slumps to one side. He scurries over and pokes at his feet, when that fails to rouse him, he pinches his toes. He climbs onto Eftaley’s belly and tugs at his rags. Then, the pier creaks, and the captain, his hideous tusks protruding from his sinister grin, the patchwork of plate armour clanking as he walks, with his extra-long sword glinting and wobbling over his shoulder, stomps towards them. The crab looks at Eftaley, and tugs at his finger. The captain, snorting with laughter, stops beside them and raises his sword. The little crab crawls under Eftaley’s hand, tucks in his claws and covers his eyes. The evening sun shines across the bay, glinting on the captain’s sword and reflecting down onto the two of them. As the ogre chuckles, Eftaley opens his dreary eyes, just in time to see the sword sweeping towards his head.
He rolls to his side and the sword jams into the wood, shaving the ends from his whiskers. He leaps to his feet, the little crab in his hand, and faces the ogre. He looks this way and that, but he’s surrounded by water with nowhere to run. His breathing quickens; he feels dizzy, holding the little crab to his shoulder.
Then, the little crab looks towards the sunset. He looks out into the bay and sees the ships on the horizon, the lighthouse on the rocks, the waves lapping against the boats. He squirms free of Eftaley’s hands and leaps down onto the deck, scurrying towards the edge of the pier. Eftaley twists around and tries to grab him but, falls over and clamours down the pier, nipping at the little crab until he leaps over the edge and plops into the water, leaving Eftaley all alone with the captain behind him.
He stares into the dark water, the waves crashing into the wooden supports. His chest hurts, he begins to feel dizzy. He turns around and watches the towering ogre swaying side to side as the wood buckles beneath his feet. The ogre swings his sword, hitting the deck, startling Eftaley over the edge and down, down, down into the dark water.
He splashes, and gasps, and claws at the surface. Waves swell over his head, gulps of water wash down his throat, the salt bites at his eyes. The captain, watches from the pier, his belly wobbling as he chuckles. Eftaley splashes and writhes and then realises, that he isn’t sinking. He stands up and looks at the boats either side, bobbing on the waves, while the shallow ripples lap at his knees.
The captain skews his face in confusion. Suddenly, Eftaley loses his footing. He falls onto his hands as the floor moves beneath him and the water runs away. The captain staggers backwards as a humongous golden shell rises from the under the waves. Eftaley clings to the edge and watches as he rises high above the captain and the shadow of a giant, golden crab engulfs the puny little ogre and raises its very-big-big claw into the air.
Though ogres are amongst the dumbest creatures in Mook-Ut-Zand they are, however, smart enough to know that when something is bigger than them, it hurts. With this clearly on his mind, the captain turns around and waddles back down the pier.
The claw slams into the deck behind him and the ogre’s little legs wobble as he tries to keep his balance. The crab grabs the captain’s sword and flips him into the air. After a brief flight, he smacks face first onto the deck.
The crab grabs him with his not-so-little little claw and lifts the captain by the scruff of his collar, high up above his shell. The ogre looks at Eftaley, puts his hands together, and shakes his head, begging to be put down. The crab pins the sword into the deck and hangs the ogre from the hilt.
He bends the sword all the way down to the deck, and as the ogre looks up at the two of them, the crab bends his eye stalks up to Eftaley, who smiles, sticks his thumb into the air and points it down. The ogre, seeing this, clenches his teeth closes his eyes.
When the crab lets go of the sword the ogre sails into the sky, skimming the tops of the houses before crashing into a distant street.
The crab lowers Eftaley to the deck who then stands at the edge staring up at his giant new friend. The crab splashes his shell down into the water, now resting just at the height of the pier. He reaches with his very-big big claw and taps Eftaley on the cheek, who grabs the claw, with his tiny paw hardly able to wrap around its edge.
He frowns up at the crab and the crab’s eyes smile back. The crab raises his not-so-little little claw onto the pier and holds it near Eftaley. Wiping his eyes, Eftaley spots something shiny pinched in the not-so-little little claw. A tiny, shimmering golden shell. The crab pushes it into his hands, and his frown, just barley stretches into a smile.
The crab rises up, eclipsing the sun and turns around, wading out into the bay. He sinks down into the water, stopping when its halfway up his shell, and turns around to wave his very-big big claw in the air. Eftaley waves back, and the golden crab, glittering in the evening sun, sinks beneath the waves.