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CHAPTER FOUR: RAID!!

        Once onboard the airship ‘Wanderlust’, Rebel informed Gestalt that while he and his two companions were prisoners once again, they were free to explore the ship— so long as they didn’t try anything funny, anyway.
        Jofur thought this situation was rather strange — to be a captive and yet free to roam about without even so much as shackles. It seemed more like they weren’t prisoners at all, and Rebel’s true motive was to lead Gestalt somewhere for a reason that hadn’t been revealed just yet.
        This was plausible, according to Jofur, because it appeared that the entire airship raid on the castle had been performed for the sole purpose of rescuing Gestalt— though, if that was indeed true, it was a most odd situation that created a new question: ‘How did the demons know Gestalt was going to be on the roof at the time he was, and how did they know he was even at the castle?’
        “If I may ask, Mr. Demon-Hound Sir,” Jofur respectfully inquired to the one-eyed dog. “ Where are we headed, and for why?”
        The general dog lazily looked at Jofur for a moment, then walked past him over to a pile of blankets, turned himself about twice, and laid down comfortably on his newly christened bed.
        As the hound’s one good eye slowly closed, he muttered one last bit of advice. “Go get yourself some fresh air Gestalt, for we have a long trip ahead of us.”

        The three unrestrained 'prisoners' exited the cabin and securely closed the door behind them. Jofur turned his back to the door mid-air, then crossed his arms and sneered.
        “That hound bugs the heck out of me!” he grumbled. “You know, I don't really mind a hound who barks at me, because at least then I know where he stands! What bothers me plenty is a hound that just looks at me— I can't figure out what his intentions are if he does that!”
        Jofur then sat himself down on Gestalt's right shoulder and whispered into his ear.
        “Hey Gestalt, look up above the cabin door.”
        The boy looked up to see a black flag and he recognized the symbol embroidered on it immediately— it was a skull and crossbones icon. Coincidentally, this icon struck a remarkable similarity to the one on his 'Jolley Rogerz' shirt. However, there was one big difference between the two pictures— the skull on the flag was missing its lower jaw, and the bones looked more like scythes.
        “That's the crest of 'Pandemonia— the Country of Twilight.” explained Jofur. “Probably has a lot to do with why the humans thought you were a demon, since the decoration on your shirt seems to resemble it a lot.”
        Gestalt thought this seemed to be a logical explanation— as logical as it can be in a dream, anyway. This was still a dream, wasn't it? Gestalt really wasn't so sure anymore. Even if he had played one too many video games in his life, he couldn't have this vivid of an imagination, could he? But if it was true that this was all happening, how did he get here and why would the demons be so interested in him? That's the one thing he couldn't figure out, as there was nothing particularly special about him— not that he could see anyway. Yes, it must all be a dream— that is what Gestalt decided it must be. He had to be dreaming. It’s the only way that any of it made sense.

        Together with Rena at his side and Jofur sitting on his right shoulder, Gestalt looked over the deck of the airship to face the wind. Though Gestalt was playing the role of a prisoner in his 'dream' again, at least this time he was getting some 'imaginary' fresh air out of the deal.
        The moon shined brightly in the dark night sky, so brightly you could even see the white cotton clouds that the airship passed through. Rena thought the setting was rather romantic, and reminded Gestalt of this several times within a time span of five minutes. Each time she reminded him, Jofur poked Gestalt in the ribs while mockingly lip-syncing every word the bubbly girl said. Gestalt had to bite his lower lip hard and look away to keep from bursting out with laughter.

        Now, you might wonder, who or what pilots the airships of the demons? Well, you may be just as surprised as Gestalt was to discover the sailors were penguins.
        Oh no— NOT the same kind of penguins you’re likely to see in the zoo, or on some funny Saturday morning cartoon!
        No, no— THESE penguins were a rough sort of fellows who wore double-breasted, navy blue woolen pea-coats like you might have found on sailors in the early 20th century (at least Gestalt thought it looked that way, and he had watched his fair share of History Channel war documentaries).
        It is also noteworthy that the flippers of these penguins differed from normal penguin flippers in one important way; a small protrusion from the ends of the penguins’ wings formed what was essentially an opposable thumb— which was a good thing, too, considering they wouldn't be able to grab anything if they didn't have thumbs. Gestalt thought their hands looked somewhat like slick black mittens, but many of them also wore real woolen mittens to help give them a better grip (the wet, leathery wing of a penguin is awful slippery, you know).
        The headgear of each penguin differed from one another— some of these sailors wore wool berets snuggly around their heads, others seemed to prefer felt bowler caps— but the captain penguin, of course, had to have the largest, most extravagant hat out of them all. Gestalt believed his hat was called a 'bicorn', and made the captain look sort of like a penguin version of Napoléon Bonaparte. The elegant red hat was adorned with no less than twenty golden tassels that dangled from the brim like little yellow cocoons. His large overcoat was dyed bright red, and adorned with more golden buttons than he had pockets for.

        Though the captain seemed a jolly chap who was content merely steering the ship at the helms wheel, he occasionally muttered out an order or two for his men to scurry at, for he liked to keep a tight ship.
        “Secure down dat double-knot, Sanders!” the captain hollered to one of the bowler-capped penguins.
        “Be quick about dat rig tightening, Lamonte!” he called to another. “And mop up that poop deck, Reanolds!”
        “Aye, aye captain!” they all clamored at once while they scurried off to perform the labors they had been allocated.
        Surprisingly, all of the sailors seemed to be in an extraordinarily pleasant mood as they galloped around gleefully to perform the backbreaking work of climbing the masts to tighten down the rigs, mopping down the decks and securing the double knots that held the life boats. Though it took some courage, Gestalt approached the flamboyantly dressed captain and asked him if there was any special reason why everyone wore a smile on his or her face.
        “Why of course we be happy!” replied the captain merrily. “It be the dream of all penguins to fly, and by being a sailor on dis' here airship, this wish be fulfilled!”
        Gestalt figured that response made some sort sense in an odd kind of way— after all, penguins ARE birds that cannot fly, so naturally they might feel like they are lacking something vital. But while Gestalt was glad for the penguins having been able to attain their dream through the use of the airship, he didn't quite understand how the ship was able to fly in the first place. Sure, it had some chopper blades on the sides, but they hardly seemed large enough to build the lift that would be necessary to keep the ship afloat.
        Since the Captain of the ship was here, Gestalt thought it best to ask his question to the expert.
        “Excuse me, but how exactly are we flying?”
        “Why, we sail on the winds of the sea, of course!” the captain responded prudently, as if Gestalt had just asked the silliest question he had ever heard in his life.
        It was not a silly question to Gestalt though, so he tried again.
        “Yes—but how is that possible?”
        “Ye humans and yer silly questions!” laughed the captain again. “Why, it be 'cause of the 'Levistone Propulsion Engine' of course! It builds the anti-gravity field which keeps us up, UP, UP~!”
        Of course.
        An anti-gravity field.
        Why hadn't Gestalt thought of that? It was so simple, and yet— wait a moment.      
        ANTI-GRAVITY FIELD?! Was such a thing actually possible?! He had to ask the captain once more, just to be sure that he had heard right.
        The Captain grinned at Gestalt's bewilderment.
        “Ye hear that boys?” He says he don't understand about how we sail on the winds of the sea! Shall we tell him with a lil' shanty?”
        “Aye captain!” they shouted with glee, and began to sing a little ditty that went something like this:

        “Come all ye young sailor-men, listen to me!
        I'll sing you a song of the winds of the sea,
        and it's...

        Windy weather boys, STORMY WEATHER, boys!
        When the wind blows WE FLY together, boys!
        Blow ye winds westerly, BLOW ye winds, BLOW!
        Jolly sou'wester, boys, STEADY SHE GOES!

        Up flies the dragon with a powerful tail,
        Climbs up aloft and breaks the top-sail!
        and it's...

        Windy weather boys, STORMY WEATHER, boys!
        When the wind blows WE FLY together, boys!
        Blow ye winds westerly, BLOW ye winds, BLOW!
        Jolly sou'wester, boys, STEADY SHE GOES!

        Up flies the wyvern with his heavy claws,
        Bites the main boom right off by the jaws!
        and it's...

        Windy weather boys, STORMY WEATHER, boys!
        When the wind blows WE FLY together, boys!
        Blow ye winds westerly, BLOW ye winds, BLOW!
        Jolly sou'wester, boys, STEADY SHE GOES!

        Up flies the pixie, lies flat on the deck
        She weeps, 'Mister Captain, don't step on my neck!'
        and it's...

        Windy weather boys, STORMY WEATHER, boys!
        When the wind blows WE FLY together, boys!
        Blow ye winds westerly, BLOW ye winds, BLOW!
        Jolly sou'wester, boys, STEADY SHE GOES!”

        At this point of the song—just when Gestalt was really beginning to like it— a wicked cackling came out from the darkness of the distance to add a new verse of its own, and interrupted the merry singing,

        “DE'N UP FLIES THE GOBLIN WIT' HIS NINE ROWS OF TEETH,
        GRINNING HE SAYS, ‘SEAFOOD TONIGHT IS A MIGHTY RARE TREAT!!!’
        HA, HA, HA, HA, HA!!!”

        “GOBLINS~!!!” frantically cried a penguin from the crow's nest. “GOBLINS OFF THE STARBOARD'S BOW, INCOMING FROM MT. DUERGAR~!! “
        “All hands to the gun decks and load the rune cannons!” shouted the Captain as the ship became alive with the sound of penguin feet waddling about. “All hands prepare for BATTLE!!!”
        Gestalt looked over the edge of the ship's hull to see packets of tiny dots originating from the mountain's peak to swarm toward the ship like locusts to a field of wheat. As the dots came closer to the ship, he recognized them for what they were— winged pigs, and mounted on the backs of the flying pigs were horrible little green-skinned creatures clothed in tattered rags.
        The goblins’ eyes were yellow— like snakes’— and their mouths were filled with rows of serrated teeth. Protruding out of each of their foreheads was a rhino's curved horn. Clenched in their long, clawed fingers were slings of leather from which they flung the little fused bombs they held in their side-pouches.
        The bombs they launched, of course, were directed at the airships, which by this point had already prepared the cannons and were returning fire. The main problem was that although each volley of cannon fire was taking out several mounted goblins at once, there were hoards of them — which (for those who don't know how many goblins are in a ‘hoard’) meant at least thousands of them.
        “This way 'prisoners'!”
        Rebel, ever the war hound, had been stirred from his slumber by the sound of cannon fire and was now guiding Rena and Jofur inside the cabin to take shelter. Gestalt thought that was a good idea considering that it was quite dangerous to remain on the deck in the midst of an aerial battle.
        However, Gestalt hadn't the time to take a single step toward relative safety. One of the goblin bombs had impacted the outer hull near him, causing an explosion which took the very ground beneath him away. The deck ripped from its hinges and Gestalt’s feet were no longer weighted by the ground’s fortitude. The impact of the bomb caused Gestalt to fly out of the ship, and he felt a weightlessness as his feet flew up over his head.
        Hurdled overboard and now spiraling down toward the ground with fierce velocity, Gestalt's life flashed before his eyes and he felt that he might truly die. Gestalt's nostrils were pierced by the sheer force of the winds that wrapped him in a vacuum of despair.
        Overcome with fright, Gestalt closed his eyes— helpless as he was— and waited for his inevitable death.

        “Hey, open up your eyes kid.”
        Jofur had seen Gestalt fall over, and— being that he was a mindful Familiar to his masters— had raced to catch him with a levitation spell that halted the boy's descent mid-air. Gestalt was probably no further than two hundred yards away from the airship. Noticing this, it finally dawned on Gestalt exactly what he was doing.
        “I'm...FLYING?!” Gestalt was half-overcome with disbelief and half-overcome with joy. Dream or not, this was AMAZING!
        “Casting a levitation spell on a single person is an easy enough spell for me to perform.” Jofur floated closer down to Gestalt. “It's more than one that is a’ bit of a struggle though.”
        “Now.... would you fancy to have a little bit of revenge on those goblins?” Jofur winked at Gestalt. “I've got another spell I've been wanting to teach ya that is just perfect for this situation!”
        Jofur pointed up at the aerial battlefield and winked at the floating boy.
        “Just follow my lead Gestalt and do what I do! We'll teach those goblins to mess with a Wind Elemental when he's in the air! Use your eyes to tell your body where to fly Gestalt! Focus on where you want to go, and believe in yourself!”
        Jofur was right— Gestalt could quite easily navigate his flight-path by using his vision to propel himself toward or away from a specific place, and with some simple body-weight adjusting he could easily rise and fall in the air. It seemed almost too simple really—as if it all was coming naturally to him. All he really did need to do was believe in himself.

        Flying was quite a speedy way of traveling, and the two friends quickly re-approached the location of the Wanderlust within a minute. Gestalt could easily see the flickering light of cannon fire because of the dark night sky, so even though he couldn't see the airship he could quite easily see where the battle was taking place.
Not that it mattered much to Jofur where the Wanderlust was, because his mind was too pre-occupied with revenge.
        “Now, here's a new spell for you to learn my boy!” grinned the patchwork bear as rings of blue light appeared around his outstretched paws. “Find a suitable target, point your hand at em, and....INTEGRA~!”
        A bolt of blue lightning streamed out from the patchwork bear's little furry paws and hurled toward a mob of mounted goblins. Upon impact, the storm of electrocution knocked the lot of them out of the air, sending at least ten goblins and their swinely steeds plummeting down to the ground towards inevitable doom.
        With Jofur egging him on, it was Gestalt's turn to attempt the Wind Elemental's lightning spell, so he scanned the sky for a good group of meanies that were bunched together well. Gestalt had played his fair share of RPG video games and recognized this Integra spell was meant to hit multiple enemies in a single shot— therefore he wanted to hit as many of them as he possibly could. His moment came when a fleet of at least twenty mounted goblins was attempting to make a pass for one of the smaller airships that accompanied the Wanderlust.
        “INTEGRA~!” shouted the novice magician, and ethereal circles of magical light materialized before him to call forth a burst of electricity.
        It was a good shot— Gestalt had managed to ensnare all of the meanies in the chain of lightning that sprang out from his fingertips. The goblins yelped out in a mixture of morbid fright and pain, to uncontrollably fall beneath the clouds. They were not to be seen again.

        Several more lightning spells later, the outcome of the battle had become quite clear. Through the combined efforts of the airship cannons, one young wizard and his Wind Elemental, the goblin's pirating raid had proved unsuccessful, and they were forced to retreat back to the safety of Mt. Duergar's catacombs.
        Not a single penguin had been clutched from the deck to become a meanie's dinner— a fact that caused the airships to uproar with celebration. As Gestalt floated back over toward the Wanderlust, he could hear his name being cheered by the penguin sailors, who were all quite pleased at his display of bravery.
        Rebel, however, was not so pleased.
        “Get back on this deck IMMEDIATELY!” grunted the one-eyed hound as he stomped his front-right paw quite heavily against the deck of the airship. It made a very loud noise that caused an abrupt end to the sailor’s cheering.
        Gestalt turned to Jofur and whispered a question to him concerning his lightning spell and their captivity.
        “Why don't we just use your lightning spell to rescue Rena?” he asked to his cuddly friend. “Then we can fly away like we are now.”
    The patchwork bear let loose a tired sigh.
    “Well, I don't think we really stand a chance against a demon hound and a fleet of airships. Even magical power does have limits you...actually...I'm rather sleepy, we better...I’m out of MP!”
    “MP?” repeated Gestalt, not knowing what Jofur meant at first—but then he finally realized the term: ‘MP’ stands for ‘Magic Power’!
    It is a very basic tenet of RPG games that magical spells cannot be cast indefinitely. If you cast spells without regard to how much 'magical power' you have left and then run out of it, you temporarily lose the ability to use magic— until you go to bed of course, or at least rest a little. While it is true a magical tonic can also replenish magical power, being a teddy bear, Jofur would be unable to drink it, as he lacks the proper digestive system for absorbing the nutrients of such wondrous elixirs.
    This was a huge problem.
    Gestalt watched Jofur's head fall forward and his shoulders slacked. The patchwork bear had selected a very poor time to fall asleep for at the precise moment he nodded off, the sparkling blue haze of magic which held both he and Gestalt in the air vanished— and no longer allowed them to fly!
    To his overwhelming horror, Gestalt found himself once more plummeting down toward the distant ground— this time accompanied by an unconscious teddy bear that did not seem likely to re-awaken in time to save him again. 
    “Jofur!” shouted Gestalt in vain at the sleeping elemental. “What the hell did you do???”