Wiccup

I.

We found him on a raft, adrift and small,
a gnome alone out in the endless ocean,
assailed by beasts wherever he might look:
above, the flying pterosaurs; below,
the devil fish. And so we threw a rope
to save him from his raft, and from his ruin.
Upon our deck he stood and faced the sky,
and then the sky ignited as an arc
of lightning sent the pterosaurs into
the deadly depths, to feed the fiendish fish.

“My friends,” he said, “I thank you for your aid;
I almost was a corpse beneath the waves.
But if I seem unhappy, please forgive me,
for though I live, it may be at a cost
too dear to contemplate. Alas! I left
my father at his shop in Wellenburg,
besieged by criminals who meant to steal
his wands. And such a coward I was then –
and shall remain, for what outrageous act
of selfless bravery could overcome
the hideous sin that I have done? – I fled,
and through the sewers swam, worse than a rat,
and worthier of death, out to the ocean
aboard a raft I stole. And so you found me
and saved me from the fate that’s rightly mine.
My name is Wiccup. That’s all you should know.”

And though we did not doubt his solemn words,
we thought to ease his suffering somewhat,
and asked him, “Did you see your father slain?”

“I did not see,” he said. “We must go back.
But I cannot escape the certainty
which haunts me.” 

                                So he led us to his home
of bustling Wellenburg. And to the shop,
which now was but some embers dying out;
no trace of Wiccup’s father could we find.
So we regretted giving him false hope.

“Cheer up,” said Laeroth, “I know there’s plenty
of fun to have in Wellenburg. It’s time
to drink, and fight, and fuck; and you’ll forget
about your father. Let’s go crazy, bro.”

“Crazy!” squawked a nearby feathered man
whose beak right up to Wiccup’s face imposed.
“If crazy fun and fights are what you seek,
and if you’re not a wuss, or worse: police,
then come to Foulfuck’s Den, where you will find
depravity to soothe your weary mind.”

So off to Foulfuck’s dueling den they went,
and drank while watching bloody fights between
scoundrels and thieves and killers, ‘til at last
Wiccup cried out, “I’m not a coward! Hark:
the worst of you, I’ll take you in the ring.
What’s this? Too scared to fight a little gnome?
That’s cowardice.” 

                                 But then a dwarf arose,
and looking into Wiccup’s eyes he gestured
toward the dueling ring. And so they went,
the shortest duelists of the night so far,
to fight while others cheered and jeered and bet.
The dwarf was fierce; far fiercer than the gnome
had reckoned, and dealt grievous wounds to Wiccup,
whose blood flowed freely to the floor, until
Foulfuck cried, “Fortuna! Come and see
your fiance destroy a foreign gnome.”
But when he turned his beak back to the ring,
the dwarf lay dead at Wiccup’s bloody feet.
And calling out again, he said, “Fortuna,
perhaps it’s best if you do not come in.”

The singer did not listen to the bird,
but punched great holes into the wooden doors,
and burst into the room with splintered hands.
Then, looking on the dwarf, she wailed and wailed.
And Foulfuck said, “I’ll have him resurrected.
I have the funds.” And here he winked at Wiccup
as though expecting friendly understanding.

Then Laeroth led Wiccup out into
the crawling streets, and said, “Let’s get you laid.
There’s gotta be a temple to my god
Calistria around here somewhere, right?”

There was, and soon they found it, and enjoyed
the height of sensuality and pleasure.
And Wiccup, in his ecstasies, forgot
his guilt in fleeting fancies of the flesh.

And some say he did even worse than this.

Wiccup awoke to unfamiliar walls.
We greeted him with breakfast, which he seemed
ashamed to eat, as though he were a burden.
His father’s shop had been his livelihood,
and now he did not know what he would do.

“Well, if you want, we’ll take you on a quest,”
said Laeroth. “We’re heading to the Mistveil,
where someone with your sorcery would be
a precious ally.”

                            “Truly,” Wiccup said,
and wondered if these people were insane,
for who would dare the Mistveil, but the mad?
And yet, the dangers there were so extreme
perhaps they left no room for guilt. Perhaps
‘twere madder still to linger in a place
imbued with memories so painful now.
So Wiccup joined our quest for Olin Geen,
the prophet of the Goddess, who would grant
a wish to any worthy of his magic.


II.

The ever-shifting fabric of the Mistveil
engulfed us in its mystifying terrors:
deep in the trees we heard a horrid rumble,
and spiny stegosauruses emerged
stampeding, terrified, in our direction.
We leapt into a gully, and lay hidden
while one among the dinosaurs remained
to sniff the scent which we could not conceal.
But just before it reached us, it went stiff
and would have run, but quickly it was caught
by jaws too terrible to fight against:
Tyrannosaurus Rex had claimed his quarry,
and bloodily he brought it to the ground.

We did not linger. Quietly we crawled
away, until the gully disappeared,
replaced by scorching sand too hot to touch,
and as we stood we heard the awful roar
of Rex: his prey was gone, but we were here.
We fled beneath the blazing sun, and saw
erupting from the sand ahead of us
a monstrous ape emerge, with us between
it and the dinosaur. And we despaired.

But Wiccup traced a circle with his hand,
which, glowing, peeled a hole into the air,
and cried, “Inside!” and pushed us all into
his portal to a safer realm. We watched
as on the other side, the ape destroyed
the dinosaur with brutal fists and teeth.
He did not stop when life had left the beast,
but beat its corpse into a savage wreck,
his fingers and his hair all soaked in blood.
And then he left. And that was not the last
of horrors we encountered in the Mistveil.

We followed Malfyre’s maps until we found
a wall of stone encircling a city,
only accessible by bridge, above
a deadlier depth than we had ever seen:
Pan Urbem, home of Olin Geen, we hoped.

But at its gates a giant jubjub bird
assailed the archers stationed on the wall.
And on the bridge, a demon wrought with spikes
attacked the giant who defended it.
The giant, Ohvun Wakelord, had been strong
before the months of famine took his muscle,
but now could not withstand the demon’s blows.

The demon taunted, “Will you die for people
who fail to feed you? Flee Pan Urbem now.”

But Ohvun said, “I will not leave this bridge
until your death, or my death.”

                                                    “So you’ll die,”
the demon said, and called the jubjub bird,
which flew down to the giant and attacked
his face with tearing claws. So Laeroth
ran, shouting, to the bridge, his kukris bared,
and struck the bird a blow which took its eye.
Screeching, it closed its beak on Laeroth
and lifted him into the air above
the endless chasm. 

                                   Wiccup saw his friend
in peril, so behind the jubjub bird
he hastened, and he crawled into its anus.
Seeing this, we assumed that he was mad.
But Wiccup delved into its gut, and there
transformed into a dragon whose great body
burst from the jubjub bird, his verdant scales
wet with its blood. And Laeroth he caught
with careful claws. He then turned to the demon,
exhaled a stream of acid on its head,
and with his wings he beat a gale that blew
the demon’s grisly corpse into the chasm.

Then Olin Geen came forth onto the bridge,
an old and regal wizard, humbly dressed,
and said, “Your heroism saved Pan Urbem.
In all my years, I’ve scarcely seen so worthy
a creature to receive a magic wish.
What is your name, and what do you desire?
But know that I am but a mortal man;
my magic is not limitless, I fear.”

“Wiccup I am called, and I desire
my father’s life restored to him.”

                                                      “Ah, that
I cannot do,” said Olin Geen. “What else?”

And Wiccup thought awhile, his dragon eyes
looking toward the mountains. Then he said,
“A place where I may look beyond the lake,
above the mountains, knowing that beneath
the sky is no one else but me.”

                                                     “Ah, that
I can do. What shall this new place be called?”

“Montana,” Wiccup said, and then again:
“Montana.” And we knew the name was perfect.
So Olin Geen performed the mystic rites,
and Wiccup learned the secrets to the land
which only he could access at his will.
Then Ihsan with his magic made a feast
that fed the city, and the giant, too.

Then Wiccup went to his Montana home.
He sat upon the porch outside his cabin
and rocking in his chair stared at the lake.
Tomorrow, maybe, he would catch some fish,
and eat beside the fire in his hearth.
The next day, he would hike to yonder mountains,
but only to the base. There would be time
for mountains at his leisure; his alone.
The siren song of solitude enticed
the sorcerer, and yet he would not leave
his friends so quickly after they had met.
And so he bid Montana fond farewell,
and in Pan Urbem opened up his eyes,
surrounded by a joyous celebration.

“Wiccup!” cried Laeroth, exhaling smoke.
“Come party with us, bro. You’ve earned an ale.
Tomorrow we’ll go home to Coringarth–
my home, but you’ll be treated like a prince,
which I’ve grown somewhat bored of, as the king’s
sole heir; but maybe you will think it fun.”
And Wiccup stared, amazed that he had fought
beside the famous prince of Coringarth,
who tamed the hydra underneath its walls.
When Wiccup asked the prince how he had done it,
he said, “It wasn’t hard. Chopped off a head
or two, and Ihsan said a prayer, I think.
And now the thing’s our friend. He keeps us safe,
defends my city from invading foes.
He’s chill. He speaks inside your head. It’s cool.”

“I’ll join you,” Wiccup said, “but know that now
I have a world to which I may escape
at will. So don’t expect me to remain
in mortal peril for your royal sake.”

“For me?” laughed Laeroth. “My friend, you jest.
You saved me once already; that’s enough.
If combat kills me, that’s a noble end
I wouldn’t want some sorcerer to cheat me.
So I support your flight to paradise,
wherever and whenever that may be.”


III.

So Wiccup came with us to Coringarth,
into the castle, where the king received
his royal son with fatherly affection
expressed with hearty punches to the shoulder.

But hardly had the gnome been introduced
when from the streets below a panic rose.
And looking out, we saw the buildings crumble
beneath the monstrous weight of many heads.
The hydra rampaged through the royal city,
and screaming in its wake, the people fled.
The monster raged toward the castle walls.

Llewellyn summoned to the world a beast,
a mighty ape; the Mistveil had inspired him.
But it was torn apart in gruesome seconds.
So Kroff leapt from the window to its neck,
and hacked until one head fell to the street.
But still the hydra hurtled through the city.

Then Ihsan said, “I need some time to pray
to lift whatever curse controls our friend.”

“There is no time to pray,” the king cried out.
“The hydra is upon us.” And the walls
shook with the hydra’s onslaught. Wiccup peered
from out the window at the beast below,
where Kroff the lizard warrior battled still,
but could not stop its terrible advance.

So Wiccup raised his hand against the hydra,
conjured a beam of green and deadly magic,
and lo! one head to dust disintegrated.
The hydra turned its other heads to Wiccup,
and snatched him from the window where he stood.
Then in its jaws he thought of his Montana,
where he might safely sit a moment hence,
escaping from the pain of fangs impaling
his fragile body. Then what of his friends?
Would he live happily when they were buried
beneath the rubble of the royal city?
But he must act, and so he closed his eyes.
Within the hydra’s mouth he cast the spell
which momentarily would set him free:
Wiccup transformed into a mighty dragon
and ripped the hydra’s monstrous jaws apart.
Then with his acid breath he forced the creature
away from Castle Coringarth. They fought,
great beasts outside the castle walls, and shook
the city with each monstrous blow.

                                                            Now Ihsan
within the castle muttered sacred words
that once before had calmed the hydra’s rage.
He did not heed the clamor at the gate,
nor quail as stones fell deadly from the ceiling,
but prayed until the prayer was complete.

The battle stopped; the hydra’s eyes regained
the luster of compassion and free will.
Then silently he looked upon the wreckage,
and seeing us, said sadly, “I was cursed
by wizardry full foul in its aim
to turn a guardian against his home.
And though you’ve brought my senses back to me,
I’m still susceptible to evil spells,
and might do further damage to this city.
So I shall turn myself into an egg,
and trust that you will keep me somewhere safe
until I hatch again, and grow into
a creature who will give you loyalty.
But where is there a place that I may hide,
where no one in the world will ever find?
Whoever laid this curse on me will surely
seek me out and try their plot again.”

Then we looked to each other as we thought
of all the many places we had been,
and wondered whether any might conceal
a sacred beast from sorcery and evil.
Then Wiccup said, “I know a place for you,
beautiful in its natural majesty,
which only those I take may ever see.”
And so the hydra changed into an egg,
and Wiccup took it to Montana skies,
and left it by the lake to incubate.

In Coringarth, the king decreed that we
be knighted for our victory against
disaster. So Sir Wiccup he became,
unmatched in bravery, the Dragon-Gnome.
“But next time,” Wiccup said, “I will go home.”