The Golem’s Heart

Engelbert Seibertz — Image from Faust

At first, Abraham’s journey over the hills and fields was slow, he had to be watchful of vampires and his leg was barely healed. After a couple of days he progressed at a quicker, more natural pace, no pursuers had come for him since the battle in the canyon. Unfortunately, he didn’t quite know where he was going. All he knew about the fief of this Duke Terrence Hightower was that it likely sat along the coast. Therefor he was traveling east, he should reach water eventually…

It was midnight when Abe was stopped for a rest below a great boulder at the edge of a mudhole. He was considering throwing his cloak off and coating himself in mud, though it was just plain cloth, the fact that he peeled from the dust pile of a slain vampire disgusted him. He was starting to undo it when a little gurgle began in the mud not three feet from him. Soon it rose to a great bubbling like the earth itself was boiling. A head formed from the earth and rose with a neck and shoulders beneath it, then a chest, arms, waist, legs, and lastly feet. A roughly man-shaped being stood before Abraham, it was tall, even more than him! It had no flesh but just the mud from which it spawned. Two depressions in its head lit up with pale bluish lights that served as eyes. It stood there, gazing, gormless, at Abraham who likewise stared back, mouth agape.

“Who are you?” Abe asked as he rose slowly to his feet and firmly grasped his staff. Really it was a silly question. It was a golem, a mindless construct, animated by magic.

The lower part of the creature’s head split open and a deep, resonating, earth shaking noise boomed, “HHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

“If there are any wizards around here, you might as well come out!” A now highly annoyed Abe bellowed. “Your conjuration will not defeat me!” No response followed. “Golem, where’s your master?”

“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLOLOLOLOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

“I don’t have time for this!” Abraham started on his way but a wet splatting sound followed him. He whirled around, greatly irritated to find that the lone golem was behind him. “Go away!”

“GOOOOOOOOLOLOLOLOLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” it replied.

Again he started and again he was followed by SQUISH SQUISH SQUISH SQUISH. He resolutely decided to ignore the creature and keep on moving. He was wasting moonlight. Yet it was impossible to ignore the creatures repeated bellowings of: “HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” and “GOLOLOLOOOOOOOOOOO.”

“SHUT IT! Am I the subject of some deranged experiment? Are wizards seeking to study me once again?!”

“SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTT!”

Abe breathed a heavy sigh which the golem imitated by blowing air for an impressively long time. It would seem that this golem has no owner and he had to get rid of it somehow. It seemed wrong to just attack it, there must be some wizard or scholar who would be interested in a golem summoned in an unknown way by unknown parties. They continued eastward, surely they would run into somebody eventually.

By sunrise they had made it into territory familiar to Abraham: green meadows and rocky outcroppings, they were in the region where he had met Jack the bard. He could not see the withered forest left behind by the devil but they did reach the river that eventually led to that village. In the shade of three tall trees they rested. Abraham washed himself in the cool waters and the golem marched into the river and imitated him, rubbing its chin and splashing its head. Its earthen flesh became dark and soft again and when Abe finally looked at his naive companion he was baffled to see it shoving leafy branches into its soft chin.

“Are you a mimic?” Abe asked his annoyance starting to fracture from amusement at the sight.

“MIMMMMMMIMMMMIMIMIMMMMMM.”

Touching his chest Abe said quite plainly, “Abe.” He repeated this a few times and the golem repeated it with “AAAAABUH. MIMMMMMMMMMMIKKKKK.”

“Get some rest, Mimic,” Abe said, stepping out of the waters and ringing his beard out. If golems even need rest…

“RRRRGRRRRRR,” Mimic rumbled. Then he reached up to a tree and took some fruit and crammed it into his mouth. Greedily did the mud creature eat, stuffing fruits, twigs, and leaves down his soft gullet. How it digested such things was anybody’s guess. Then he sat by the fire, legs spread straight out in front of him.

This creature really is like a child, Abraham thought to himself. I wonder if I was so annoying when I was boy?

He realized too late that his staff was resting on the ground by Mimic who grasped it and was opening his mouth. Abe’s new found powers were not strong enough to remotely wrestle the staff from the great hand of the golem. He shouted at Mimic and demanded his staff. The creature paused, then rolled the staff towards Abraham. Jealously he snatched it up. Mimic tilted his head curiously, then he opened his mouth and began imitating eating and grunt low.

“I’m not eating my staff! Never touch it again!” Abe growled back. He slept that night with his staff firmly in his grasp, though he found it impossible to stay mad at the great dope. The golem was too innocent, he knew nothing at all.

He woke up at sundown, Mimic’s flesh had hardened again and his strange beard was now set in place. The creature was looking at the leafy end of Abe’s staff, then reached out and started teasing the branches, staring at it with an unreadable expression. In a panic the half-giant yanked it back. The creature was not offended but instead tore a branch from a tree with a single yank and the two set off, a pair of unorthodox twins.

It took little time to find a village downstream. The villagers immediately recognized Abraham, though he did not recognize them. He should have expected this, he was the Devil Slayer, hero of the men of the river! Everyone knew the story of what happened to the village of Brent. Word of Abe’s battle had traveled up and down the river lands. To his relief, they did not know he was wanted by the orcs.

Among the noises of praise, the jotun was assaulted with questions about golems. Had he resolved the situation at the tower? Was his companion part of the golem encirclement? Was he here to heroically resolve the situation? He tried to get a word in, asking about vampires and Duke Hightower but the only clear answer he could hear in the commotion was that there were no vampires here. He and his companion were practically pushed through the village and towards a great flat clearing with a tower jutting out. Several large figures did indeed surround it.

“GOLEMMMMMM,” Mimic rumbled, a noise that vibrated Abe’s bones.

“I suppose so,” Abe replied and with a sigh they approached the situation. Cautiously he approached one golem who had two large branches coming out of the top of his head like some kind of mud-made weredeer. Mimic enthusiastically stomped over.

“Oh? A jotun! And one of our fellows!” this golem’s voice was quiet, like a sandy whisper.

“You understand me?” Abe asked.

“Of course, everyone here will, though I alone can control my voice enough not to cause the ground to tremble.”

“Why are you intelligent when my companion is like a child?”

“He is a newborn. I was like him when first I spawned from the earth.”

“None of you were conjured by wizards?”

“No. We are our own beings, with our own hearts, we serve no one. I even have a name, Ogram. I don’t know why or how we came to be, but we are.” While this golem spoke, Mimic examined him, leaning uncomfortably close, full of fascination.

“Why are you encamped against this tower?” Abe asked.

“The wizard Redbeard has taken one of our own. A relatively new golem like your companion. He refuses to release him so we have prevented him from leaving his home. If any harm befalls our kin, we will unleash the power of our collective voice and destroy the tower! So far he has refused our demands.”

“Let me talk to him, look after my friend.” Abe started on his way but Mimic was still right behind him. With a shrug the two approached the front door of the three-story tower. Something dark flitted out of an open window on the second floor and he wondered if the wizard was seeking aid. He knocked on the door which his friend imitated, nearly bashing it in. This second knock seemed to have scared the wizard away so Abe called out and the door cracked open.

“I am here to negotiate,” Abe said.

A red-bearded face peeked out. “Are you the one who slew the devil?”

“Yes. Now let’s settle this dispute.”

“Very well, but, the golem must stay outside.”

“He wouldn’t stay put even if I told him. He will stay near me and will not steal anything or anyone.”

After a lengthy pause the wizard let them in. The bottom floor of the tower was filled with bottles, pots, books, scrolls, staves, everything Abe expected to see. Sat on a table was a great crystal ball, perfectly transparent, spotless.

“I normally wouldn’t let someone in during this…misunderstanding,” the wizard explained, “but a man of your great reputation deserves special privileges.”

He searched through a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. With trembling hands he poured a drink for both men. “I’m Oliver,” the wizard said, “but everyone in town just calls me Ol’ Redbeard.”

“What are doing here, Redbeard?” Abe asked, putting on his most cordial voice.

“Living far from the big cities,” he replied, his cup shaking in his hands. “I have a talent for divination, seeing things far away or far into the future. Every man wants my gift. Even out here some still find me, but at least it is not continual.”

“I have similarly been harassed in the past, often by wizards.”

“Well…” the old wizard shifted awkwardly in his seat, “I have no interest in studying you. With my luck a band of jotun will lay siege to my home!”

“You took this golem to study?”

“I saw it rise up from the earth weeks ago and I followed it. Convinced that someone unseen controlled it I kept my distance but after so long it was clear that it had no master. So I took it. Indeed, it had no magical signs on its body. That’s what makes the magic of most men so different you know, the need to inscribe some nonsense on things to enchant them. Your kind has no need to do this.”

“Clearly these golems are sentient creatures,” a grim undertone crept into Abe’s voice. “What have you done to him? Have you taken peelings from his hands? Any teeth?” He clinched his hands into fists, the memory of loosing skin brought a stinging sensation to his palms.

“No, no!” Redbeard cried. “I…just inscribed signs on him. I wondered if I could change the properties of his being.”

“Alright,” Abe rose from his chair. Mimic, who had been exploring various empty pots around the room snapped to attention. “Our time is likely short. I know you have sent for help, but this will be resolved before then. Release your prisoner and give me information and your home will be spared!”

“I didn’t send for any help! Oh, what’s the use, you wouldn’t believe me anyway…” He scooted his crystal ball over to him. “What information do you seek?”

“Show me the way to the home of a Duke Hightower.”

“I don’t need an enchanted ball for that! Just go southeast for a couple of days and you’ll find yourself in his lands. He certainly lives in Morgantown.” Redbeard took a drag of his whiskey. “Now, the golem, I will release it, you just make sure those creatures outside don’t…don’t — ” In an instant the old man slumped forward in his chair, grasping at his chest. By the time Abe had got to him the old man was limp, still. Abe sniffed the bottle, something was definitely wrong.

In the tower basement where the old man kept a few casks around was anther babbling golem sitting behind thick bars. Random zig-zags, circles, and other signs adorned his body. Abe grasped the cell bars working to rust them until he could yank them apart. Two thick brown hands grabbed them and yanked with exceptional force, sending Abe flying onto his back. Mimic had torn the bars open. The prisoner curiously tugged at the bars and seemed amazed that they could be ripped loose.

Back in the clearing, the elder golem, Ogram, thanked Abe for the rescue but found the murder of the wizard troubling.

“Do not worry about taking the blame for this crime,” Ogram said. “The townsfolk will blame us for this. As for who did this, I cannot say.”

“Will you take in Mimic?” Abe asked.

“If he will join us. The two of them will learn and mature quickly.”

Abe turned to Mimic who waved his makeshift jotun staff over the head of Ogram back and forth repeatedly. “Mimic, go with them.” Abe said.

“MIMIIIIIII, GOOOOOO.”

“Go with the golems. I helped you this far, now you must follow them.”

“GOGOGOLEMMMM?”

“Go. You’ll be safe with them, away from angry villagers or plotting wizards.” Abe put a hand to his friend’s staff and a blue-ish hue came into the leaves. Mimic almost dropped it in surprise.

“For you. A gift,” Abe said with a smile.

“GIIIIIIIIFTUH.” He imitated Abe’s expression albeit the corners of his mouth moved up and down, he seemed uncertain how to create a facial expression.

Ogram put a hand on Mimic’s shoulder, “Come.” The other golems gathered around. They shuffled on, disappearing in the night covered woods.