This is a continuation of a story begun in the post “Chapter 1. Part 1.” If you enjoy it, please like and share it with others!
CHAPTER 22- GOBIN AND THE COURAGEOUS DANES
The next morning we woke and packed the camp quickly. It was an hour hike back up to the brick wall and we found the gate right away. Just before approaching it, Thrump stopped us.
“Let me take the lead on this one,” he said.
No one put up much of a fight. Recent events had taught us not to disagree with Thrump.
He strode over to Skreech and whispered in his ear, “If you so much as breathe too loudly for the next two days, your life will come to a painful end. Do you understand?”
Skreech nodded, terror on his face.
Thrump approached the gate slowly, knees bent, ready to fight if necessary. The gate was a beautiful black wrought iron piece of art. It rose into a high arch in the center and split down the middle into two doors. All over its body were the shapes of Umbili. There was one in the center wearing a crown, a few bowing in the front, and a strange bird-like creature stretching its wings over the background of the mural with an ominous presence.
Thrump grabbed the intricate handle and twisted it down, giving the gate a strong tug. It swung open easily and silently. He looked back at us as if to say, “Well that was easy.” He crept forward, slowly, just into the threshold of the gate. There was lush green grass on the other side of the wall, and the divide between sand and grass was striking. Just as his foot touched down on the grass a loud bark clanged in the air like a gong.
It stung the ears and all of us instinctively covered our own. As we did, the other side of the gate swung open to match its partner and seven majestic and huge Great Danes strode in front of the gate taking a position much like a flock of geese would with one in the front and the other six just behind him on either side forming the head of an arrow. The dog in the center barked again, and again the sound was too painful to bear without covering our ears.
The lead dog then did something no one expected. It stood up on its hind legs so that it was a good seven feet in the air. It even rolled its shoulders backwards making it look normal to stand this way. After this, he spoke, which was less startling considering all the other talking animals I had met and the fact that he had just stood up like a man.
“Umbili of the Syllogy, prepare to die.” He took a fighting stance and his cohorts, still on four legs, leaned close to the ground and raised their hackles, snarling.
“Wait!” shouted Fwik.
“Yes we have an idea that might avoid bloodshed!” yelled Fwish after her brother.
This move was unplanned and took the entire group off guard, particularly considering who was speaking. Fwik and Fwish were always ready with a sarcastic joke or their whips but never a diplomatic discussion.
“What makes you think we would waste time talking to you when we can simply kill you as we have been instructed?” The lead dog’s low voice was unctuous and serene.
“Let me ask you one question, and then if you want to kill us after I’ve asked you, go right ahead,” said Fwik.
The dog cocked his head to the side the way dogs do when they are intrigued or confused. He stood quietly for a moment, considering the proposition.
“Alright. Ask your question,” he said slowly. “We can kill you afterward.”
“Are you happy?” asked Fwik.
The dog started laughing a deep booming laugh, clutched his belly, and rolled over. The other dogs behind him cackled maniacally.
“Happy?” he shouted through fits of laughter. “Happy?”
“What?” asked Fwish, “Do you have something against being happy?”
“If happy existed, maybe I would.”
“You’re saying there isn’t any such thing?” asked Fwik.
“Of course not! It’s against nature.”
“How did we get into that state?” said Fwish.
“We were born that way. Happiness is an illusion. Suffering is all that truly exists in this world. The world is broken and always has been and so we serve the only leader who recognizes this fact,” the dog retorted.
“We’re not talking about suffering or brokenness we’re talking about being happy. Are you happy?”
“You can’t be happy if you’re in pain, in a broken world,” said the dog.
“Why not?” asked Fwik shortly.
“You’d better start making sense pretty quickly, because I’m hungry.”[1]
“How do you know the world is broken?” asked Fwik.
“What?” asked the dog.
“You can not call a line crooked unless you have some idea of a straight line. If you never had any pain in your life, how would you know when you were happy? To what are you comparing the broken world, if you do not know of a better world? If a cup has always had leaks in it, how would you know to stop them up? Wouldn’t you assume that cups are supposed to leak?” It was Dr. Lee who had spoken. The dog was no longer laughing, just listening silently.[2]
“Your reasons for following Mendrax don’t make sense, my good dog. I had to come to this realization as well. If Mendrax is right and the world has always been this way, we wouldn’t know what pain and happiness were, even as abstract ideas. Those ideas would not have entered into our mind. But if the Higher-ups are right and Mendrax actually broke this world, then our understanding of happiness and pain are justified.” Dr. Lee was speaking precisely so as not to strike a nerve with the dog.
“So, are you happy?” asked Fwik again.
The dog sat down onto his hindquarters. He was actually considering the question this time. Finally he answered.
“No, I’m not,” he said bluntly. “But what do you think you’re going to do about it?”
“We can’t do anything about it if you don’t really want to make a change. As the saying goes, insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Do you want to be happy, or at least, happier?”
“Yes,” said the dog sincerely. “Of course I do.”
“Then help us,” said Fwik.
“Or at least, don’t hinder us,” said Fwish.
“Wait just a minute,” said the dog, “What makes you think you hold the keys to happiness? I may not like what Mendrax does, but at least I know what to expect. How can you guarantee it won’t go from bad to worse when the Higher-ups get back in power?”
“I don’t know that we can,” said Fwik. “It’s a matter of trust.”
“Ha! Sorry, but that’s not good enough. I’ve heard the trust line before. You’ve got to come up with something better, or we’re back to where we started,” said the dog.
Everyone looked at each other for a moment. Fwik was particularly intense with his stares, not wanting his effort to communicate instead of to fight to go to waste. No one spoke.
“Right. That’s what I thought. Pack, assume attack positions!” shouted the lead dog, his sincere demeanor had gone and the stature of a general commanding his troops returned.
The other dogs in the group crouched back down and began snarling again.
“Guys quick, we need something,” said Fwish. Plink drew her crossbow and loaded a bolt on the string.
“File one hold position, file two strike with me,” the dog barked at his pack.
“Anything?” asked Dr. Lee to the group at large. “Chak think of something!” Thrump was cracking his knuckles to prepare for a fight.
“Battle cry on three!” shouted the dog. “One!”
“Please, let’s talk.”
“Two!”
“Flye, think of something!”
“Three!”
“Anyone?”
“Courageous Danes! We fight!” The sound of all the dogs yelling this phrase echoed for a moment. And then it hit me.
“WAIT!” I shouted. “Courageous Danes, wait!”
The lead dog looked at me. “What?” he snapped.
“Courage. That’s how you can tell whether we’re worth the trouble,” I said.
“What?” he asked again, more slowly.
“You value courage, don’t you? Majestic, powerful creatures like yourselves must. If we can prove to you that we are courageous, courageous enough to be Courageous Danes, then would you consider us a worthy regime to replace Mendrax?”
“And how do you suggest your courage can be proven?”
“How do you prove anything? Test it. So, test us! Test our courage, test our character! Surely only the Courageous Danes could truly asses one’s courage. You must have a way of doing so,” I said in my most flattering tone.
One of the other dogs finally spoke. H drooled and slobbered as he did so.
“Gobin, swe could puht them through initheiathion.”
“Initiation. There’s an idea,” said the lead dog, Gobin, slowly nodding his head and standing back up like a man again. “I like this idea. You Umbili surprise me. I thought you’d be all bite and no bark. It does get tedious out here constantly proceeding straight to the fight. It always makes me wonder if there’s not a better way.” He paused, considering the proposition. “I accept your proposal. We will test you; test your courage that is. If you can pass our tests we will let you by without a fight and without warning Mendrax of your arrival, if not your futures will not be so bright. Are we agreed?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” I said quickly.
“Right, then follow us, we will escort you to our training facility,” said Gobin.
He turned and marched along the wall and the group walked calmly through the gate to follow him. On the other side of the wall was an open field as far as the eye could see. Lush green grass and the wonderful smell of summer filled my head as we walked behind the pack of dogs.
I didn’t notice at first, but Chak, Thrump, and Plink were all walking in a tight group and whispering. I edged my way over so that I could hear what they were saying.
“I don’t care what deal we have, if it looks to be going sour, we need to attack,” whispered Chak.
“Obviously I agree. How do we know these mutts will keep their word?” asked Plink.
“I trust Nicholas. If he thinks the dogs will keep their word, that’s good enough for me,” whispered Thrump.
I was just about to interject when Gobin spoke loudly over his shoulder.
“Well said large dude. We are dogs of our word. The human has judged us rightly. We will not deal in underhanded tricks, and if you plan on doing so I suggest you concoct your plan much farther away as I have impeccable hearing. I am a Great Dane remember.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit as the three Umbili tried to mask their surprise at having been overheard. I liked this dog. He reminded me of myself in many ways. Quick to act when need be, but willing to think if the opportunity presented itself.
We walked for a few more minutes before coming upon a huge dog park. There were tunnels, jungle gyms, and lots of hills and mounds. Some of the hills were squared off, some were steep, some were shallow, some went up and down like waves. Some were muddy, some were grassy, some were sandy, and some were just piles of dirt. On the edge of this field, full of hills and obstacles, stood a rickety old set of wooden stands with bright blue paint that was peeling off. They creaked loudly when we stepped on them.
“This is our training ground,” said Gobin, as we filed in and took seats in the stands. The other Courageous Danes did as well, and Gobin stood before us on the ground, clearly ready to deliver a speech.
[1] Cormac McCarthy, The Sunset Limited (NY: Dramatist Play Services, 2008).
[2] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (San Fransisco: HarperSanFransisco, 2001).
Want to keep reading? Go to the next section! >>> “Chapter 22. Part 2.”