It was some time before the tower was finally ready.
“You sure about this yeah?” Frend asked as he carefully placed yet another box of the Creator’s flamesalvo against the wall.
“About knocking the Tower?” Grend was busy with his own boxes.
“Yeah.”
“Then yeah I’m sure. Been here long enough.”
Grend stood up and wiped his brow. There had been over 30 crates of the explosive potions left in one of the Creator’s potion vaults. Now they lay littered around different parts of the Tower’s structure, from its deepest points all the way up to the kitchen floor.
“Think we’ll see the others again?” Frend asked as he came over to lean on his Brother’s shoulder. Grend thought about pushing him off but was too tired to be bothered doing so.
“Now and again, hopefully not too much though.”
“Right,” Frend agreed, “Had it not been for the Tigerling they’d have killed us before. And he’s unlikely to be there to stop em next time.”
“Ahhh,” Grend coughed lightly, “We weren’t that bad. And we were the ones to set them free as well. That surely counts for a bit.”
“Aye, surely,” Frend nodded. “Very scary isn’t he though.”
“Who? The tigerling?” Grend asked.
“Yeah the tigerling.”
“Ah yeah, very scary alright.”
With the final box in place the Twins made their way outside and into the garden. It was empty, it was always empty, but it felt more so now, knowing that underneath no Beastling lay trapped.
The came to rest behind the well.
“Right, you ready?” Grend asked as he carefully picked up the fuse which snaked through the garden and back inside.
“I am,” Frend said excitedly. He held out the vial of firejuice, eagerly waiting to set things alight.
“Theeennnn LET’S GO.”
“AHHHHHHHHHH,” Frend lit the fuse and quickly turned to duck covering his ears in the process.
Giggling Grend did likewise.
A moment passed. Then another.
“It’s a long fuse to be fair.” Frend noted.
“Yeah, will take a few moments.”
Grend let his head fall back against the well’s wall and Frend clicked his teeth as they waited.
BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM.
The explosion took them by surprise, they had expected a slow dramatic tumbling, as the tower collapsed in on top of itself.
Instead they were forced to keep their heads down as piles of stone and wooden debris went rocketing through the air. The entire affair lasted only a few seconds, the stength of the flamesalvo causing the tower to shatter into a million different pieces.
“That was mental.” Frend exclaimed. “Mental. I didn’t know it was that strong at all.”
“Same.” Grend laughed, shaking his head.
“The Tower’s gone anyways, be no more experiments there.” Frend got up and surveyed the damage.
“Be no more experiments there.” Grend agreed, “the tower is gone.”
“Goodbye Tower,” Frend said.
“Goodbye Tower,” Grend said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Beastlings of the Creator had burst out of the tower like the bees of a hive under attack. Rushing out into the forest in a half a hundred directions many kept going, far, far beyond the forest and its boundaries. Some worried that the Creator would return to enslave them once more. More in fear of the other Beastlings, ones more prone to violence then they themselves. The squirrelings, doglings and catlings were the predominant of this group.
Then there were those who chose to remain in the forest and its vast cover. The wolfings and Bearlings were the main of this group. For them the forest already held a fine reputation which kept away outsiders from ever daring to traverse its confines. The Beastlings knew the forest better than most and without any true law or order were left free to do what they pleased. Outer villages inevitably suffered their wrath and so too did many villages within the forest along with them. What few rulers bothered to investigate soon found that whatever they sent into the forest was not likely to return. So it was that the forest remained as it was, a land of Beast and animals, but now to a far wilder and dangerous degree.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The Hippolings were indeed left alone. The night after the destruction of the tower two Bearlings had been killed, skinned and left hanging up at the entrance to the path up to their home. That was enough to convince all that the Tigerling remained the Hippolings protectors. There were no further attacks.
In reality, the Tigerling could not have remained in the forest. Stories of the half man half tiger were soon to be heard from one end of the continent to the other. Rumors of daring assassinations, brutal attacks, and heroic rescues filled docks and roadside taverns. Depending on who one asked the Tigerling was either a great defender of the downtrodden, a paradigm of morals and goodness. Or, a ruthless bandit, hungry only for blood and destruction, a perfect weapon of war created by the Creator. The truth likely lies somewhere in between.
As for the Hippolings, they soon became a thing of legend.
Growing from clumsy, accidental victims who through the Creator’s own misguided sense of invincibility and carelessness somehow came into possession of power enough to destory the Tower and the Creator along with it. To cunning, formidable twins, one complementing the other as they schemed and plotted their way to victory over their drunken Master.
The truth lies a great deal more towards the former. A great deal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The twins didn’t do much the day after the destruction of the Tower, or the next. Grend because he needed to regain his strength and Frend because he was still feeling volts of lightning sizzling intermittently around his body.
The had taken up residence at an old cottage that once supposedly belonged to the Creator in a time when he was known only as the Wizard. A small thatched building with only three rooms the twins felt more at home in its cosy confines than they ever had in the Tower’s shadowy interior.
It was after breakfast on the third day when they both finally felt themselves again.
“A good breakfast that.” Frend said contentedly. “Lovely eggs.”
“Very lovely,” Grend agreed.
“You are keeping the head then?” Frend raised a brow.
“I am.” Grend replied.
“Why?”
Grend sighed and put down the knife he’d been using to clean the foxling’s skull.
“Why? Because it’s cool. Taking the head of your enemy. And it sends a message.”
“How’s that cool?” Frend asked crinkling his face. “And what kind of message is it, heads are to be buried, enemy or not. And it’s weird having it lying about the place. We’ve the two Bearlings already up beyond. Do we need anymore of that stuff.”
“Yes actually we do. And the Bearlings weren’t us, this is a personal thing. It’s not weird either, I just didn’t want him going in the pit with the rest. With the Creator.”
“Why? The foxling tried to kill you. Genie was crazy.”
“So?” Grend place his fingers on his eyelids. “All the beastlings are crazy, that’s the Creator’s fault remember. It’s all his fault.”
“So you are honoring him?”
“Yes I am honoring him.”
Frend sighed and threw his hands up in exasperation.
“Sometimes I don’t get you Brother.”
“Whatever Frend.” Frend said.
“Whatever Grend.” Grend said.
They sat in silence, Grend with his focus only on cleaning the skull, Frend only on pretending to ready an old fairytale book while watching Grend cleaning the skull.
“Grend.” Frend lay down his book.
“Yeah?”
“Are we the Heroes. In the Creator’s story?”
“Well.” Grend tapped the knife off his tusk, “I guess we are really yeah.”
“What about the killing we did, and the other stuff, the-”
“What about it?” Grend interrupted.
“I don’t know, it’s just. We don’t seem very heroey to me. You know?”
Grend shrugged, “That makes us more heroey.”
“It does? You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.”
“How?” Frend asked, failing to keep the hope out of his voice.
“Well.” Grend sat back in his chair.
“If not for us the Foxling would have taken the Creator’s place. He seemed like the type of lad to really do some damage. We saved a lot of people stopping him.”
“Ya reckon?” Frend asked.
“I do.” Grend stated confidently.
“What about the bad things we did then?”
“Ah c’mon sure we could do bad things for another fifty years and not be anywhere near what the Foxling could have done.”
“So we have….like…like credit or something.”
“Exactly.” Grend sat back up. “We’ve loads of hero credit. We’re good guys for at least another 50 years.”
“Oh well that’s a relief, I’ll forget about it so.”
“Do.”
“For fifty years anyways.” Frend said.
“For fifty years anyways.” Grend said.