Tap! Tap! Tap!

  The high windows must’ve been victimized by a round of hail.

  Dismas kept a firm hold of his throbbing head, then winced, as he poked those blood-clotting stumps at each end of his legs.

  He had to get out. He’d rather freeze to death, than endure any more torture from the king.

  It was the snoring that woke him — Likely it was the same that conjured the pain in his head. That sound, it bounced off the walls like… like something.

  I have to get out, was the only constant thought.

  And so he thought of a plan.

  Well no, that’s a lie. But it helps to be optimistic.

  He simply rolled off the bed, completely banging his amputated legs on the stone floor in the process.

  An unstoppable yelp, before he covered his mouth. Had to bite his lower lip to stop himself.

  Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!

  He began to crawl, straight for the big door. He thought it wise to just get out and turn into a block of ice. Yes, that would suffice.

  Knock!

  A single knock on the big entrance door. Who does that? Dismas stopped, flat on his stomach.

  He suddenly heard the snoring even clearer. Louder. Louder! Fast steps approached him.

  Everything hurt. It was hard to locate King Ranvil when the head banged and bangedagain and again.

  Suddenly he just walked by. Hammer in hand. In fact, one in each. As he turned, he stopped snoring.

  The guy was so crazy, it was hard to tell if he had been sleepwalking or put on a show or had some strange personality, among the others, that just wanted to fuck with this cripple.

  The king stood there, made eye contact, flipped a hammer here and there, but did not move other than that.

  Tap! Tap!

  Tap! Tap! Tap!

  One wrong, crawling, move… It could, and probably would, trigger some deeply disturbing behaviour.

  ”Alright, where do we go from here, my king? I’m in a bit of a… pain.”

  Legs left a wet trail, partly lit by the high windows.

  On another dime the king of the mountain shifted.

  ”Dismas! By the great Jorm! I’ll get help!” The short, twisted, demented royal got low. He sat on his knees, dusted his thick beard on the floor, and again — he was quiet.

  The high windows cast ominous moving shadows.

  Dismas felt panic creeping all over his skin. He flailed his arms. Tried to shimmy his legs in some other direction.

  King Ranvil Braxius started talking. His tone was oddly sincere, and as he spoke, the hammers fell to the floor.

  ”I can’t control… anything… you know?”

  ”Please,” pleaded Dismas. ”Save me.”

  Tap! Tap! Crack!

  Tap! Tap! Tap tap!

  ”I just…” Ranvil gazed up, inspected the ceiling. ”…I can’t even remember… how old I am.” The look of concern on his face, as it tilted back down to floor level, felt genuine, yet he still blabbered on.

  ”I was pushed, you see… should be dead.”

  ”H- hhhee-” The, once, master assassin began to cough. There was blood, but also other colours.

  Taptaptaptap!

  Taptaptaptap!

  Crack! Crack!

  ”Humans betrayed our deal. A deal set in stone!”

  ”I- am s- s- so-”

  ”Oh, you didn’t do nothing, did you? Besides, you’re a dwarf!” Ranvil’s face lit up with glee then. ”I even made sure you’re not too tall, just so you could fit in! Isn’t that lovely now?”

  ”I don’t… understa-”

  ”Listen, boy! This whole… well, I don’t know what in the Three Hells! Anyway, this is…” he said, as he shuffled closer on his knees — picking up a hammer on the way. ”

  ”Wait,” Dismas coughed.

  ”…not…” Ranvil flipped the hammer.

  ”I served you well.”

  ”…your…” The hammer went up to the heavens, where no God dwelled.

  Dismas retreated behind crossed arms.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  ”…story!”

  Crash!

  The hand of the king fell hard.

  Glass bounced off the floor, as Dismas squinted.

  But the hammer. It stayed. Was there a God after all?

  A puff of air instead hit Dismas’s questionable defense. Good. Still, he was spent and broken, and it brought him flat on the floor once more.

  Kra-kaaaw!

  He heard striking, behind closed eyes. Was there someone else in there?

  Kraaaaaw!

  ”Blasted birds! Hiyaah!”

  Kaaaah!

  No matter. He needed to… sleep. Had a… gate to… guard.

  ”Kaaw! Dismas. Is it Dismas? Kaaw! Hello. Hi, Dismas?”

  The flapping of wings lulled him to sleep. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

  ***

  There was no wind near his awakening. Was he still there, tummy down? The mad king must’ve boarded up the windows, somehow.

  Was that the weather rumbling? It reminded of a voice.

  His eyes went to work, lifting the veil. But no. There was no strength.

  The mad dwarf made no sound. A smile was afforded. The headache pushed it back, too early to be fully enjoyed.

  So this was life now, huh? Constant pain and no feet? Was he blind on top of it all?

  Curse the curses bestowed upon him. Gotta start somewhere!

  Wiggle wiggle… Oh, fuck, that’s right. Dismas hadn’t used his downgraded legs enough. He constantly forgot about the amputation event, even though he constantly had a way of reminding himself about it.

  Did he hear a doorknob? It was all so muffled.

  He could work his neck alright, and the feeling started to return in his fingertips. And… yes;

  ”I can move my mouth, finally. Or has it only been minutes? Please t- tell me more time passed,” Dismas said carefully, feeling sick still — And no wonder. ”I have more important places to be… than at the very top.”

  Every breath heaved in panic then. Muscles tensed up, knees and elbows bent. Neck tendons stood out, as he cried and pulled in vain.

  One eye opened. The other, when he saw. A big bird, almost man-height, held onto his wrist.

  ”It’s firm enough, but it doesn’t seem to make too much of an effort-”

  Kakaaw!

  The bird looked his way.

  Dismas pissed his pants, as he dropped the grit in his teeth, totally unaware he had spoken out loud. Also, it had probably been some time then, since he releaved himself. Quick thinking, now that the pain had faded some.

  ”Where is he?” He turned. Another bird for another wrist.

  It too stared him down, although quietly — Thank the-

  Rrraaaaaa!

  ”Whooshitshit! Take whatever I have!”

  Damnit, the birdfuckers were loud. Lots of them made a ruckus in the background. If this was how they spoke, he wanted out.

  ”Dismas.”

  ”Aye aye, bird,” he answered, with sarcastic intentions, hoping he’d be thrown out. With some luck, a jagged rock waited just outside, ready to marry his temple and finish this farse.

  ”You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Where the fuck was this individual?

  Finally, he located a very old man at the short side of the bed — made with sticks and leaves, by the look of it.

  ”There you are. You some kind of birdman, or what?”

  The upstanding sticks of wrinkles looked amused.

  ”Birdman? Yes, why not.” He drew some breaths while gazing around the room. ”Uh, before you speak further, questions and what not, I have a thing… two… uh, three things, in fact, that you deserve to know directly.”

  ”Tell me. Just tell me. What could possibly happen now, to surprise me further?”

  ”Number one. If you’re in doubt about your-”

  Kraaawk!

  ”As I was- Anyway; if you’re wondering, you have been moved to a safe location.”

  ”A little late to be safe,” Dismas quickly inserted.

  ”Number two. Nevermore, who in fact saved saved your ass… though not your feet,” the old man coughed. ”is with us — also under intensive care, I should say.”

  ”Nevermore…” Dismas felt calm upon hearing the name, gaze drifted away to meet old memories. ”My friend…”

  ”Aaand-uhh… the third thing…”

  The quiet moment lasted longer than it should have.

  It didn’t matter much. His raven had lived. Flew from desert to ice… and not only lived, but saved him. Suddenly he felt a disgust in himself. Ungrateful peasant. Nevermore nearly kills himself, saving his master. And what does the master do? Fucking cry about it! Revel in misery!

  ”Oh, I guess there is a fourth thing as well,” the old man apparently went on.

  Dismas jolted his eyes up to him.

  ”What about the third thing?”

  ”So you did get lost in thought, you bugger.” The old man waved a finger. ”I told you, and here it comes again; you have new feet. A feat by our surgeons…”

  The old man talked and talked. Dismas would hear no more of it. It was like listening through a body of water.

  Would he- Yes! He looked down to where he knew his stumps were. But, this time… his spine trembled at the sight. His hands shook like wild bushes in the summer wind.

  ”What? How?...”

  What Dismas saw seemed like a joke in very poor taste. Birdfeet, thick ones. He saw the sewing thread. Stumps were bleeding anew again.

  His mouth moved, trying to articulate away these abominable attachments.

  I understand this — in the midst of trauma — seems an inconvenience, but really, my friends here have improved upon you.”

  ”Imp-”

  ”Come now! Try and stand!”

  Dismas looked the old man dead in the eye.

  ”Stand? On these!?”

  ”Yeees, of course. Those feet gave their life for you atop the mountain. Helsar, was her name, and-”

  ”You fucking gave me female birdfeet!?” If looks could kill… but then again... Well… Walking would be liberating. ”What’s the plus side of these fuckers?” he sighed.

  ”Moodswings, right on que. Right, I’m glad you asked.” The old man cleared his throat. ”Near indestructible they are, these clawed feet. Nothing else like it, in this small a size, in the animal kingdom. And yes, secondly, they are as weather resistant as anything. Any material you will find — none better. Mark my words, boy.”

  ”I’d still need a special pair of pants, to be out in the cold. Didn’t you think of that?”

  ”The fine doctors focused primarily on your survival, boy. This life is no fashion show, and what was taken for you is what was given by fate. The die landed on a one, but it still worked, even when no human was available to us.”

  ”I killed men for that psycho.” Dismas felt blank. He raised his hands, when he noticed the big birds weren’t holding him no more. ”Ooh… shit…”

  ”Yesyesyes, the fourth thiiing!” The old man shook his arms as if he was about to lift the bed. He’d be too far gone to recover from that. Instead a seed of a smile grew. ”You see, this here old man… is a bit of a surgeon himself.”

  Dismas’s hands felt different at the joints. Looked different, all over. Harder. Stronger.

  ”I like to dabble in the field of electricity. Try clapping.”

  ”What the fuck is electricity?”

  Clap! went his new metal hands. A jolt of the brightest lightning shot through his fingertips, connecting in the air and bursting through the door in the far corner of the room. The door was gone.

  ”Mother of God!” he screamed, crawling, falling off the bed. He caught himself, unlike when he bnb’ed at the mad king’s.

  His hands were better. Faster.

  ”How can this exist? Who are you guys?”

  The old man initiated his answer as the birds carried Dismas to his feet. Wobbly, but strong feet.

  ”Oh, but of course! I had no intention to be rude. Understandably, you expected some sort of introduction quite earlier in our conversation.” The old man cleared his throat. ”I am Kornial, of the house Zeifer, alchemist, scholar, explorer- Well, I won’t bore you with the rest,” He sighed. ”Though my house was destroyed many years ago, and my days are running short… Why not give something back — to a lucky winner?”

  The seed was gone. Now Kornial’s smile bloomed.

  ”And these fine birdies?” One was seen pecking at a huge scab… in the back of his friend’s head — who seemed almost in trance from the activity. ”These are the taetting.”

  Kraaaaaa!

  Keraaa-ak-ak-ak-ak-ak!

  By the end, Kornial sounded less than enthused.

  ”Since you need to practice your walking around, follow me outside.”

  Dismas fell a couple of times to the door, but then his new girlfeet turned out strangely intuitive. It felt so strange to grab the door handle with new, metal, hands.

  Dismas could only gasp outside, because as he tilted his head up, he had to tilt it even more so, to get a glimpse of the head high above.

  ”I present to you, my master, Hell Guardian, Abasi Orn.”