Fiction Fragment Friday
It is fairly rare for me to write a fantasy story. This time I had a scene in mind and inspiration from an interview with a professional wrestler who finished a match with a punctured lung. When I started I only had that one interaction in mind, but I decided I wanted to introduce a very eccentric and mysterious character to go with it. The story probably would have been longer and very different, but I wrote it while taking long breaks to comfort my animals through a bad storm.
“Can you please move quickly? I’m kind of in a lot of pain here.”
“Maybe next time, try not getting stabbed.” William slid under Reginald’s arm and out the chamber door. Reginald strained to hold up the stone slab that was trying to slide shut. Blood soaked through the bandages on his side.
“I’ll remember that next time and not jump in front of the skeleton for you.” With the last of his party safe, Reginald fell backwards out the door, letting the slab smash down. Spikes of pain shot through his body as he impacted the ground. His friends’ voices were distant, and he couldn’t understand them. They were still comforting though as they got further away.
* * *
“Wakey wakey.” Reginald felt a cane tapping on his forehead. His eyes slowly opened, focusing on an elderly face inches from his own. It was a wrinkled face with a big white beard that stretched down to the small man’s belly button. He was dressed in a bright purple, green, and yellow shirt with leather pants. He was also only three feet tall and his skin was orange.
“Gah” Reginald shuffled back away from the man.
“Ah, not much of a thinker I see.” He hopped around the room lighting candles on the wall.
“Who are you?” He finally had time to take in the room. It was cluttered with books, scrolls, and random trinkets around a desk twice as large as it should be for the room.
“Who am I? Who are you? Bah stupid questions. You are on the verge of dying in my dungeon, and all you want to know is names?” He knocked Reginald on the head again with his cane. “Ask something worth answering, or at least say something interesting.”
Reginald rose to his feet, taking in the room. He finally realized that there were no doors or windows. In one corner of the room was a model of the dungeon he had just been in with his friends. He walked to it taking in the layout trying to memorize as much of it as possible. In one room there were miniature figures of his group with him laying prone on the ground. “You own the dungeon?”
“I said I did, didn’t I?” The small orange man sighed. “You are starting to bore me and that is the last thing you want to do.” He reached into is pointed hat and pulled out a smoked salmon. Sitting with his legs crossed on the desk, he started eating. “If the next thing you say doesn’t interest me you are going right back to your body there.” He pointed to the dungeon model.
“What do you want in exchange for saving my life?”
“Still kind of boring, but at least a decent question. You have a long way to go to be interesting. Here’s my offer. I send you back healed and you become my paladin. You are going to have to become way more interesting, but I think I can help with that. So deal?” he held his hand out to me.
“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand and shaking it. The next moment Reginald felt himself falling through darkness.
* * *
The impact of blending soul back with body sent pain through every nerve. He gasped taking in a much needed breath. He could feel his side painfully knitting back together and his blood growing inside him to replace what he had lost. It was excruciating, and he couldn’t help but scream.
“Reginald you’re alive!” His friends were gathered around him and he could see tears in their eyes.
“As long as you keep me entertained.” He heard in his head.
“Reginald?” William asked. “Why is your skin orange?”
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