Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1) (13 page)

    Giblet was anxious for the details of the next task. He had proved himself on Orc Mountain. He felt like nothing could stand in his way now.

    Another Dwarf stood in his way as he tried to move through the crowd. Giblet was overshadowed by him. Once again Giblet was reminded of his small size. He grumbled to himself and headed off in the opposite direction. He hated being smaller than the other Dwarves. Of course all Dwarves were small but they never felt small amongst their own kind, only when standing next to anyone else. Giblet on the other hand always felt small. They used to call him Tiny in the playground as a child. That was until his father had removed the fingers of one of the name calling brats. After that everyone decided to leave Giblet alone. Having no friends made his childhood quite a sad one, although he would never admit it.

    Dwarf society did not agree with sentimental crap.

    The main doors opened once again and three more Wizards entered. Each of them, like Fungust, were tall and lanky. They all wore the pointed hats and the robes, however the lead Wizard’s were not pale, pastel colours, but dark black. It should be mentioned that his outfit was
dark
black and not one of the lighter varieties. This particular Wizard had a goatee beard and long, dark hair that hung down his back.

    All three of these Wizards walked with staffs, although the lead Wizards did not look like an old branch that had been pulled from a tree. His was made of some sort of metal and was smooth and shiny. Much more impressive.

    He tapped it as he walked.

    He looked like he was leading a funeral.

    “Do you have it Fungust?” he said as he approached the other Wizard. His voice was soft and spoken in almost a whisper. It sent shivers down lesser mens' spines. 

    “Yes High Immaculate Enchanter, finally, after all our searching, it is ours!” Fungust showed him the Crystal.

    His High Immaculate Enchanter, Rufious Astailler Maininder Casthoozer, or Rufi to his friends, looked at the Crystal with disdain. Rufi was a powerful Wizard, in charge of the high committees, he basically ruled the Wizarding community. And he ruled it with an iron fist. Not a single fleck of magic happened anywhere, anytime, without him knowing about it. He saw everything.

    He was like the Wizard version of CCTV.

    And he disapproved of Fungust for Fungust was a scientist. To Rufi, magic and science did not mix. Of course Fungust had proved the existence of Specks and numerous more scientific evidence to prove that magic was linked with science, but to Rufi that took away part of the special zest that all Wizards had. The spark that made them what they were. That
puff
of magic dust. Not that Rufi would ever admit that Wizards used magic dust. Nor that they were
puffs.

    “Give me it here you imbecile,” he snapped, snatching the Crystal from Fungust. He examined it carefully. The thing
was
covered in Specks. Perhaps this
was
the Mystophogus Crystal. Perhaps the Dwarves had done something correct for once.

    He looked down at the small bearded men surrounding him and was forced to hold his breath. To Rufi the Dwarves stunk. Actually to everybody the Dwarves stunk, but to Rufi they smelt especially bad. He had a heightened sense of smell at least ten times that of a normal Wizard. It stemmed from when he was a boy and had foolishly decided to pick his nose with his father’s wand. It had been stuck up there for five days. Finally on its removal he found he could smell all the terrible things in life even better than everyone else. Dog turd was a particularly bad experience these days. It did however help him smell the fear in others when they were anywhere near him. And he hadn’t had a bogey in his nostrils for years.

    He was actually forced to pinch his nostrils together as the stench from the Dwarves increased. He found it hard to believe that these barbarians could actually succeed at anything. Yet somehow, they usually managed to. The Dwarves had built some of the finest bridges, dams and buildings in existence. Rufi believed that the Dwarves must use some sort of magic to achieve such feats, yet at the same time knew that they possessed neither the skills nor the intelligence.

    “You believe this Crystal can help you discover the answers you seek?” he asked Fungust.

    Fungust bowed, far lower than he intended. He walked over to one of the long rectangular windows and looked out.

    “Hopefully it will High Immaculate Enchanter,” Fungust muttered solemnly, “the truth to a universe of mystery.”

    “What is that supposed to mean?” Lord Shagbag asked curiously.

    “Fungust here has an unhealthy idea that the universe has changed,” said Rufi sourly.

    “Changed?”

    Fungust spun around, a crazed look on his bearded face, his bushy eyebrows raising up and down like two hairy caterpillars going for a walk. “Something is wrong,” he screamed, all the Dwarves in the room stopped mid gurgle, beers spilling from their open mouths as they turned to stare at him. 

    Silence descended the room.

    “The stars have changed,” he continued, “the planets have changed. Space itself has changed… and along with it… so have we!”

    “I don’t feel any different,” shouted a Dwarf from the back.

    “Well you wouldn’t would you,” said Fungust, “you are not a Wizard!”

    “
I
don’t feel any different either,” Rufi scowled.

    “Hopefully, with the help of the Mystophogus Crystal, that will all soon change,” Fungust whispered eerily, his hands moving in slow, wide circles as if telling a haunting story. Or a man trying to balance himself really slowly.

    “I feel it. I see it. The science in me sees it,” said Fungust. Rufi rolled his eyes. “I see us flying in space faring vessels… I see us using incredible technologies… yet I also see that we should not be handling such things.”

    “What are you talking about?” shouted the Dwarf from the back.

    “He’s making no sense!” called another.

    “We’ve always flown in space vessels,” guffawed another.

    “Get him off!”

    “Yeah! Off the stage!”

    “Boo!”

    A shower of rotten fruit and vegetables descended down on Fungust. Where said fruit and veg came from is one of those questions that could potentially cause heads to explode. Yet somehow, whenever anyone was booed by an angry mob, the fruit and veg would fly.

    Fungust ran, wailing, arms flapping, from the room. A tomato splattered on his face. A cabbage sitting on his head.

    Rufi grinned. The grin within that goatee beard looked cruel and malevolent. Was the High Immaculate Enchanter, Rufious Astailler Maininder Casthoozer, actually cruel and malevolent? Of course he wasn’t. But he liked everyone to think he was.

    As he left the room, his two Wizard lapdogs following him, he flicked a finger out at a particularly smelly Dwarf and his nose was swapped with that of a pigs.

    Perhaps Rufi was cruel and malevolent. Just a little bit.

   
Toot! Toot!

    A ginger, young male Dwarf, still in his teens, ran through the room towards Lord Shagbag blowing on a small horn. He was still too young to be able to grow his mature beard and instead had wisps of ginger hair dangling down his chin. He stopped, puffing and panting, next to Shagbag and Giblet.

    He tried to speak but nothing came out other than a pre-pubescent wheeze.

    “Out with it boy,” bellowed Shagbag, “you’ll never be a champion if you can’t even run across a room. Giblet here ran down a mountain! A full mountain!”

    Giblet smiled smugly. He didn’t let on that he had in fact surfed down at least half of the way.

    “Sorry sir… I agree sir…” the young Dwarf gasped. “my name… my name is Chugwell… son of Churnblow…”

    “Chugwell?” said Shagbag. “What does your name mean boy?”

    “Erm…” Chugwell said, a little shocked by the question. “Apparently it stems from when I was a baby and all I did was chug milk. Chug! Chug! Chug! All of the time!”

    “Breastfed were you Chugwell?” asked Shagbag.

    “Yes sir. As are all strong Dwarves.”

    “No wonder you wanted to drink all of the time,” Shagbag laughed, “I’ve seen your mother… and I’d want to be drinking from those wonders as well!”

    Rip-roaring laughter filled the area. Chugwell’s already red cheeks grew even redder until he looked like a tomato.

    “Come on then out with it,” said Shagbag, “what do you have to say?”

    “The next… the next part of the tournament sir,” the young Dwarf stuttered, “we have the next part through!”

    As one, every eye in the room turned to stare at Chugwell who once again felt very small and embarrassed. “I don’t still breastfeed,” he quivered.

    “The tournament boy!” Shagbag’s booming voice sounded. “What is the next task?”

    Chugwell opened a scroll in his hands and read it out as loud as possible.

    “Task eleven… to slay the dragon! There is a treasure chest full of gold that has been swallowed whole by a dragon! Our… opponents… have inserted a homing beacon inside the beast. The first to kill the dragon and return to their people with the treasure will win the point!”

    The ring of excitement filled the air. A dragon! Now this
was
a challenge. And it was a challenge that Giblet was ready for. Defeating an army of Orcs and scaling a supposedly unscalable mountain was one thing. Battling a dragon and succeeding was another. Dragons were large and fierce, one of the most dangerous creatures to ever live. Few who ever went up against a dragon came back alive and those that did only came back half a man. Literally.

    Only someone very brave or very foolish would volunteer to go up against a dragon.

    Giblet felt he was both.

    “I wish to challenge!” his deep voice cried out above the crowd.

    Lord Shagbag turned to him and had to lower his head to meet his. “You believe you can succeed Giblet?”

    Giblet smacked his metal helmet with the butt of his axe and growled. It was a growl that would scare a monster. As dragons were considered a type of monster, Giblet hoped it would.

    “I will slay the dragon or die trying,” he said proudly.

    Lord Shagbag considered him for a moment but he had already made up his mind. “You were our champion against the Orcs,” he said proudly, “and you shall be our champion again! Challenger accepted!”

    Cheers and the chants of Giblet's name roared out. The small Dwarf jumped back into his space faring vessel and waved to his comrades.

    “I am Giblet son of Goblet… and I will prevail!”

    With that he closed the hatch and started up the small cube-like ships engines. The small, bulky vessel rose and flew from the ship, crashing into the side as it went.

    He looked down at the computer screen. Chugwell had programmed the dragon’s homing beacon into the ships computer. Giblet activated it and read the coordinates that were listed. He knew the planet that this dragon was on… yet at the same time he felt like he had never heard of it at all. Perhaps this was something to do with what Fungust had been speaking of earlier. Something about space changing? Giblet thought that he perhaps should have paid more attention to him. He shrugged. It couldn’t have been that important. Could it?

    The cube-like ships thrusters fired and he headed off to fight the dragon on the distant planet called Baggus’Regious.

Chapter 15

Travelling faster than the speed of light was something that, for many, many, many years, was believed to be impossible. There were many theories why it wouldn’t work. It would rip whatever one was travelling in to pieces. It would rip whoever was travelling in it to pieces. It would rip the very fabric of space to pieces. And one particular theory from a drunk squid-like scientist on a very fishy planet, was that you would come out in spots and put all of your organs on the outside of your body.

    The actual thought of travelling faster than the speed of light was something only believed by lovers of science fiction, not science fact.

    Of course, the speed of light had to be broken in order to logically travel from one side of space to another. What would take millions of years at any other speed, such as the mediocre speed of sound, or the even lesser speed of smell, would take only a week or two at the speed of light. It was breaking that barrier that proved to be the hard part.

    Those who tried usually ended up ripping their ship, themselves and the area of space around them into pieces. And one particular drunk squid-like scientist came out in spots and found his organs outside of his body. He did not care about it for very long.

    The speed of light was of course broken eventually. Every space faring species in every dimension would eventually learn how. Each had their own unique way of course.

    The Lampans learned to harness the power of black holes, channelling their energy through the ships circuitry. When they travelled at speed they didn’t so much zoom as blink out of existence to the mortal eye and reappear at their destination.

    The Intelimals of Intelligeous Prime developed a very unique engine that trapped space inside, shrinking it to allow shorter travelling distances.

    The Wizards clearly used magic to power their speed. However even Wizards magic could not control everything, therefore they train a special select few who spend their entire lives, hooked up to their space faring vessels for the sole purpose of pumping all the magic they can give into the engines.

    The Dwarves conquered a small race of unintelligent creatures named Noxons who, by their own natural ability, could run faster than light. The Noxons were forced to run in large wheels in their ships therefore powering their engines.

    Greebol’s electrical worked on a whole different basis. A giant boot on a large metal leg extended from the top and, on the pressing of a button, swung down and kicked the electrical up its backside, sending it hurtling through space at ridiculous speeds. Not a very pleasant experience as Charlie Pinwright had discovered. He had discovered it all over the floor, all over the walls and all over his own shoes.

    Still, learning to travel at the speed of light in Greebol’s electrical was something, he had realised, that he better get used to.