Legend of the Woods

Episode 11, Topper, the Cowboy, and the Gremorians.

Thank you Christine Graves and Ravyne Hawke, for the Writing Prompts that inspired this story. Promptly Written is a wonderful publication that all should follow.

Mr. Peal and his horse were in the river; an onslaught of water surprised them as they crossed the bridge. The storm now engulfed the entirety of Frilarium Farms. The Ouachita River swelled, and all along its banks, it overflowed. The cowboy hung on to the bridge with his left hand and held his horse with his right. “Keep swimming, Topper; it will be over soon,” he said. Topper, the horse, whinnied in distress.

“Garr, Mr. Peal is in trouble; he and his horse Topper need you at the river bridge,” Brevlodar said, then left to help Poddarius and the Caddo on the Trail Less Traveled.

“Harumph. He didn’t even say please and who wants to go out in a storm like this? Hoity-toity, miniature winged goblin, acting like he’s the boss of something,” Garr said. Storms made him grumpy. Storms caused by trespassers made him mad.

The cowboy and his horse-hung on.

“Garr, I think Topper the horse is in deep water. Can I go help her?” Mossey asked.

“I guess. But we are Guardians, not rescue rangers. Remember that.” Garr said.

“Deep Water, help her,” echoed around the interior of the Guardians’ refuge.

“Shut up, the lot of you. If you want to go, go.”

With that, Garr’s friends left him. The mass of the guardians exited the shelter heading for the camp and the bridge. The river overflowed its banks, the onslaught of the storm drenched and soaked everything, and the wind blew in great gusts. They found creatures of the world and the mystic realm in distress with every step. Everything was wet and soggy, the small furry animals struggled in the water, and the wind blew the flying creatures about like falling leaves. One by one, a Gremorian would end its advance toward the river and start calling out, reaching out, growing into massive shelters, and rescuing the creatures they encountered and could reach. They dug deep roots and grew larger, accommodating more animals. They ran off this way and that as they realized that their favorite furry and mystically green friends needed some relief from the storm.

“We’ll be rescue rangers today,” Loakley said.

Soon only Mossy, Shrum, and Sap were left racing toward the river, Mr. Peal and his horse, Topper. As they moved, they too would rescue the creatures of the woods. Vines shot out, grabbing them and pulling them into the mighty mass of each Gremorian. By the time they reached the camp, hundreds of small furry animals perched atop the three Gremorians, holding on for dear life.

Shrum stopped at the pavilion in the camp; the river flood had yet to reach the top of the hill the pavilion sat on. The animals exited the nooks and crannies of the giant to the pavilion roof, then made their way to the protection it gave below. Then Shrum ran off toward the river to where the bridge should be.

“You all will be safe here; the river floods have never gotten this deep before,” Sap said, then ran as quick as he could, following Shrum.

“There you all go. Stay dry. We will be right back.” Mossy said, then joined his brothers in a mad dash to the river’s edge. All three Gremorians yelled.

“Topper, Mr. Peal.”

The cowboy and horse were on the verge. Harry could not conjure any more strength. Topper’s head periodically would dip below the water until Harry pulled, and Topper found a bit more strength.

“There they are, Mossy, Sap, look over there,” Shrum said. His feet grew roots into the saturated soil. He grew tall and bent himself into a large arch, his hands shooting out viny tentacles that he wrapped around a massive oak tree on the other side.

At that moment, the two lost their grip on the bridge and started floating down the river with the wild current. Topper went under; Harry pulled on the reins and held on as Topper’s weight dragged him under.

“No, no, help!” Harry yelled.

Mossy rushed into the water and reached out with multiple vines across the river to Topper and Mr. Peal. His massive legs grew longer until they touched the bottom and lifted his torso higher out of the rapids. Below, the glut of water rushing downstream caused currents that moved river boulders and caused Mossy to slip. He lifted Topper and Harry up, so their heads were above water but then slipped again. He would grow again, then slip, then grow some more.

“Sap, Shrum, help,” he growled the way Gremorians in distress do.

Sap, a tall, slender Gremorian, downstream from his fellow guardians, grew tall, shot deep roots into the soggy soil with one leg, then stepped over the river with the other leg, which in turn grew deep roots into the mud on the other side. He leaned forward, stretched out his arms, grew some, then grew some more. Then he grasped Mossy at the waist, holding him steady. Finally, Mossy shot some roots down into the riverbed. Shrum grew vines from his midsection at the top of the arch, and they reached out to Mossy, wrapping around him about the chest. Then, Mossy brought Topper and Harry up entirely out of the water. He drew in the vines carrying the green ghostly apparitions. At the center of the Ouachita River, Mossy created a large flat platform above the water for the two to rest on. As the Gremorians held their position, their roots grew deeper and longer, drawing strength and vitality from the woods, growing thicker and more robust. Soon, not even the rumbling currents of the swelling river could move them. Mossy grew a bed of green moss underneath the pair, then a domed shelter over them.

Downriver the waters crested the banks and began flooding the wheat field. The Fiend in the Wheat laughed and danced. Moochers gathered near the camp, thinking about the tasty little furry creatures sheltering in the pavilion. Shrum, Mossy, and Sap grew tired.

Rosie held the umbrella, Lisa lit a candle, and Al held onto the wall, his legs pointing straight out like a windsock on a tall building.

The Fiend in the Wheat reached for his scythe and, with broad, deep strokes, cut a wide path through the wheat. The water followed the straight path that the Fiend unfolded before him. The Moochers in the black sat upright and noticed and the tides of darkness began to flow.

TO BE CONTINUED

You can find Episode 10, Poddarius Frilarium VII, and Mort, Lord of the Mystic Realms.

© 2022, T. Mark Mangum

I am T.Mark Mangum. From an early age, I was hooked, addicted to the imagined, unfathomable worlds of Star Wars, Star Trek, Conan, the Lord of the Rings, and many others. I love writing fiction tales. I love writing in multiple genres. However, my favorites are Sci-fi and Fantasy fiction. I am a father of six; we have two cats and two dogs. Tabletop gaming is a passion.

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