Should I Grovel at His Feet

I need some guys who know how to kick butt and take names, but all I have are priests who sweep and meditate.

"I'm at my wits' end. I've got to do something to free Alora from that madman." I said as Bob meditated.

"Don't interrupt."

I know Bob's a shaman, and he loves to meditate, but I'm too worked up to stop now. "Who knows what Targon is doing to Alora. Not that I'm too worried, she's tougher than most, well, than everyone, but it's the principle that matters."

"What part of don't interrupt do you not understand?" Bob said without opening an eye.

"How can you meditate at a time like this?"

Bob stood, snuffed out his candle, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, "Clearly, I can't. You're worried. I understand. But I need a clear mind to see the answer. Fortunately, I've been meditating long before you barged in, and the gods gave me the solution."

Bob led me to an obscure corner of the temple grounds. Weeds and grass grew in the cracks of the cobblestone path we took; clearly, few people used it. We exited the wooded area onto grassy hills with several huts dotted around. And curiously spaced between the huts, stood straw dummies on wooden poles, being attacked by dozens of priests dressed in black and grey robes. They hit, poked, and karate-chopped the dummies like they were in an old Jackie Chan movie.

"What are they doing?" I asked.

"Training," Bob said.

"Training for what?"

"You will see."

Two priests spotted us and escorted us to the head honcho. At least he looked like the head honcho: silver robe, muscular, cool hair, shoulder-length with strands of gold braided in. I don't know how anyone else felt, but he impressed me.

"Shaman, we are honored. What brings you to our little corner?" Not only did the dude look impressive, but his voice boomed out like the nameless voice actors who narrate movie trailers. I could listen to him all day.

"It's good to see you, Drock. It's been a long time." Bob nodded towards a hut. "Could we speak privately?"

Once inside, we sat on the floor. The tiny place had no furniture, only banners with wise sayings on the walls.

"Drock, this is Drew Williams. You may know him as the winner of the Pick-a-Sacrifice tournament, but he's much more. As you can see, he came back. Something no other sacrifice has done."

Drock played it cool, but I thought I saw his eyes widen a bit.

"He's a god. He can pronounce my name," Bob said.

Now I know I saw Drock's eyes widen. These guys are so impressed when I say Bob. I have no idea why they can't say it in their language, but they can't.

"May I ask a question?" Drock asked me.

I nodded.

"So, on the god-spectrum, are you high enough that I should grovel at your feet, or one of the lower gods that I should just be very respectful towards?"

I looked at Bob, completely lost.

"There's no need for groveling," Bob said. "You asked why I'm here. A unique job. One you don't have to take if you feel uncomfortable. It's very sensitive."

"I'm listening," Drock said.

"It involves Targon and his Elite Guard."

I swear I saw something in Drock's eyes when Bob mentioned Targon.

"They've imprisoned a god named Alora."

"Should I grovel at her feet?"

"No, Drock, but I'd be very respectful. Unlike Drew, she can be scary at times. Anyway, I'd like for your team to rescue her."

"We've never opposed the secular government before. They stay on their side, and we stay on ours. It's always been that way."

"I know, and I understand if you choose not to. Although I feel I should mention that a different god gave me a vision of you and your team. So, choosing not to might offend that one."

"Is he the kind of god who demands groveling?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. But you might want to be prepared to grovel if you ever meet him."

Drock asked for some time to think it over, so we went back to the temple hall to kill some time.

"Why do you think Drock can help us?" I asked.

"Drock is the Prime of my elite fighting priests called the Knock-Woks. They study an ancient technique of fighting where every successful move puts their opponent to sleep."

"You mean knocks them out?"

"Less violent than that. They only have to touch the right spot, and it's nighty night time."

"Like Mr. Spock?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. Are they tough enough to take on the Elite Guard? I bet you my last credit, they won't try to put anyone to sleep."

"The Knock-Woks are feared throughout the land. I'd say they are tough enough."

A messenger entered with a note from Drock telling us he must decline.

I went to my room depressed. I thought Drock would help. Now the only hope Alora has is me, and I only give myself a slight chance of saving her. She'd give me a zero chance.

While sulking half the night and racking my brain to come up with a plan, I heard a knock at my door.

Grinfo, my old friend, came in.

"Rumor says Drock won't help you rescue Alora. Is it true?" Grinfo asked.

I nodded.

"That coward! He's been afraid of Targon since we were in school together."

"You know Drock?"

Grinfo laughed, "He's my big brother. Or should I call him my big baby brother?"

"Drock? A baby?"

"Oh, I know. He looks impressive, but believe me, he's afraid. Targon used to bully him relentlessly when they were kids. But let me talk to him. I think I can get him to change his mind."

"How?"

"Don't tell anyone. I mean it."

"I pinky-swear, now what is it?"

"My brother keeps showing off in front of this girl. I'm pretty sure that if I threaten to mention that he won't help the Shaman rescue a god in front of her, Drock would be extremely embarrassed. And believe me, Drock fears being embarrassed more than he fears Targon. Especially in front of this girl."

The next day Bob knocked on my door and told me that Drock had changed his mind. He will help after all.

I told Bob I'm completely surprised and never saw that coming. Strangely, this girl that Drock likes has as much strength as Alora. I mean, she's not an android like Alora, and able to throw cars around, but she still has strength.

I smiled. Things are looking up.