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The King Who Disappeared

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Hank Quense

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“Leticia believed in Snotism. Every morning she began the day with a prayer to the Great God, Gundar. Today was no different. While most of the heroes still slept, she recited the prayer, then took out a small vial and spilled a few grains of crushed pepper into her hand. Holding her palm under her nose, she snorted the pepper. A second later, she let go with an explosive sneeze.”

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“I am Bishop Connors of the Snotish Church. Where is the President?” “W . . . hat do you want to see him about?” “I don’t discuss church business with minions. Are you dead?” “I . . . ‘ve been dead for a long time.” “The Snotist Church has vowed to destroy abominations like you.” “Th . . . ank you for sharing that.”

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“The anti-aging spell he used every month kept him alive for the most part. Facially, he looked like a forty-five year old; physically, he was a wreck because the spell was defective. All his teeth had fallen out years ago and he now used a set of ill-fitting wooden dentures. He was bald and wore a cheap reddish-blonde wig that often slipped if he turned his head suddenly. It also had a tendency to take flight in a breeze. His knees were creaky and often ached, and his eyesight had deteriorated.”

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“Jerado heard a splash followed by the roar of an explosion. Bits of equipment, glass and wood splattered against the back of the chair. A large chunk of table whizzed past his head and smashed into the cave’s wall. Ears ringing, Jerado sighed and waited for what he knew would happen next. “M . . . master?” “Yes, Remy?” “C. . . Can you sew my hand back on my wrist?” “Remy, Remy, Remy. You know how I hate doing mundane chores.” “B . . . but I can’t clean up the mess with only one hand.” “That is true. All right, fetch a needle and thread and I’ll repair your hand.” “A . . . And I need a new tunic. This one is in tatter”

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