That Which Cannot Be Explained

Chapter 8: Rhymes on the River

A SMALL INTOXIKID RAN SWIFTLY over logs and boulders the size of adolescent pandas. Through the woods he lead the Director with Michael of the Manor following shortly behind. This petite boy had guided the two safely out of the Intoxicated Village by way of the only other secret exit. They passed several tall trees and many bushy bushes. Faster and faster they ran which was not necessary for the Intoxicated had given up chasing them long ago due to loss of breath and many cramps. As they bolted like flashes of lightning through the forest they soon disappeared between the trees and suddenly were reappeared out of the forest on a muddy riverbank. Finally they stopped running and had a chance to regain the air in their lungs. The small Intoxikid bowed before the two in a humble respect and returned to the forest. What a fine boy he was. In fact, of all the terrible vile folk that infested the Intoxicated Village, this Intoxikid was by far the most well-mannered and generous, indeed.

As soon as the unrhythmic beats of the hearts of both the Director and Michael settled down, they carried on making their way downstream beside the rapid river. The Director knew this was the correct path to take for he was informed by the small Intoxikid moments earlier that this was indeed the correct path to take. Down at the bed of the rapid river would lie a boating dock where they were to acquire a boat from the dock. Then, going with the flow of the rapids, they would reach a river town called Town River where their journey could once again continue. How extremely helpful and convenient was the information informed by the small Intoxikid!

Walking down the side of the rapid river with the occasional skip in their step the two were once more reunited and it felt so good. Long were the days that these two friends were apart. Years it felt like to be in such a state of loneliness. No man in his right state of mind would judge either of the two if they were to let the emotions out and allow a single tear to fall. But just a single tear and no more save he live in shame for the rest of his miserable life.

"Did you receive the letter?" inquired the Director.

"What? What letter?" asked Michael.

"Why, the letter sent by Kahl the Called himself. You should have received it in your manila envelope delivered by that which cannot be explained."

"By the liver of a goblin sculptor's wife! I must have lost my satchel of manliness at the village. Or it was stolen from me, rather."

"Ah, the pity I express. Nonetheless, two letters were sent to the Thirty Persons. The first spoke of a terrible famine that has fallen upon the fields and of the awful deadly disease that delivers itself upon the Land. And the second letter spoke of—well, shall I just read it?"

"Oh, but I would sure love to hear the tale of how it became of you to rescue me from that dreadful Intoxicated village."

"The letter first, then I shall gladly tell my tale."

"Do so."

The Director retrieved the manila envelope from out of his satchel and took out the letter. He raised it up to read.

"As it says,

"To the Persons of the Thirty Persons,

It seems we have encountered yet another dangerous dilemma. My posse and I set out to get our hands on five wagons at the nearest wagon shop we could travel to. Fortunately, I found an incredible deal and ended up finding six. Unfortunately, I did not fancy the sight I saw that day. Outside the shop the town had gone ablaze. Riots commenced followed by looting, killing and buildings set on fire. Such a frightful scene it was. These people are losing hope more and more each day, my friends, running to violence and crime. I will be on the outskirts of the river town called Town River with the six wagons and my posse. Do well to meet us there at the front gate and with much pace. We are the Land's last chance at any taste of brighter days. We must press on for the Rod of Ability! May we find it quicker than not soon.