The Blue Porkasis

“This ain’t gonna work, Vargus,” the embarrassed imp said as he flew behind his two friends. He was having a difficult time seeing out of his face mask and his wings were chafing at the edges of the fat suit they had squeezed him into. “Who ever heard of a blue porkasis?”

Though none of them had ever actually seen one of the famed flying pigs, everyone knew his Lordship Ker Sevikrage kept several of the talking creatures as pets…until he ate them. Grogen shuddered that someone might actually try to eat him. He vowed to ear-flame the first creature to come at him with a fork.

“That’s why it’s going to work,” Varga assured him, her voice surprisingly deep and raspy for an imp not yet past her seventy-fifth birthday. “When we present a rare, blue porkasis, the guards will have to take us inside the castle.”

“They’ll have Grogen for lunch,” Snork quipped. Though larger than his two friends, Snork had been declawed at a young age. But he made up for it with his sharp tongue.

The three imps had been flying low to the purple and green tree tops but suddenly found themselves in the open air above a small castle. Grogen immediately sensed the magical nostril tunnels inside the guarded walls. Those tunnels were their way off-world…but only if everything went according to plan.

Fat blue chance!

Grogen didn’t see how anyone would believe he was a blue porkasis. But if they did, he had no intention of becoming someone’s dinner! He gagged as Varga dragged him down into the courtyard.

“Keep fluttering,” she whispered, even as her own clawed red feet settled onto the lush green grass.

Without claws that were almost necessary for landing, Snork nearly knocked her over.

They had no more than touched their feet to the grass when a towering gray creature stomped across the moat bridge to challenge them. He was covered in metal armor and a helmet with four protruding spikes. Any one of the imps could have fit inside the enormous creature’s shoe.

“What come you for?” the stupid creature asked, staring down at them. The deadly rows of teeth that split its thin gray lips suggested intelligence wasn’t required for guarding castles.

“We brought this,” Varga said loudly. She yanked on Grogen’s leash.

He gagged but managed to stay aloft at about the height of the creature’s shin.

“It’s a rare blue porkasis,” she continued.

“Flying Porks not blue,” the orc spat. Its eyes narrowed as it leaned down.

Grogen prayed the onions Varga had mixed with his blue dye would work.

The orc took a deep wiff and might have sucked Grogen upward if Varga hadn’t been holding tightly to his leash.

“Me smell stew,” the orc said.

“Onions,” Varga corrected. “Blue porkasi eat lots of onions.”

The orc didn’t look convinced but turned and started back toward the castle.

“Come you,” the creature boomed. ”You show Krage Lady. Then maybe orc stew.”

Grogen panicked and struggled to get away. His wings flapped wildly.

“Stop it,” Varga hissed. Flames shot out her ears.

Grogen didn’t care. Obviously the orc had its next meal planned and blue onion imp was on the menu. He grabbed to free himself from the leash but the fat suit was too tight and his hands were stuck inside the hoof-shaped gloves. Obviously, what Varga said was lotion was actually glue. What kind of mess had the she-imp gotten him into?

Suddenly, he remembered various events from their past, like the way she had once tricked him into eating goblin dung. And then the time she had tied him to a baby dragon’s tail while he slept. Only luck and a well-positioned ear flame had gotten him out of that mess.

I knew I couldn’t trust her!

“Come on, Grogen,” she hissed and yanked again.

He bared his teeth but realized the face mask hid his expression. Defeated, he allowed her to pull him along like a child’s kite.

“Orc stew,” Snork whispered then grinned and moved up to walk beside Varga.

Seventy-two years old and this is the best I can do for friends. I deserve to die.

The castle seemed much larger inside then out. The orc lead them down several wide stone hallways to an immense room filled with colorful wall tapestries. An old Pandemone woman dressed in red silk sat on a throne against one wall. A black cat in her lap hissed at them. She stroked its head.

“What have we here,” she said.

“I present you a rare—“

“Shhh, shhh,” the woman said holding up a hand heavily adorned with rings and bracelets.

“Jasper, please throw these three imps into the dungeons until their master can retrieve them. It’s the blue porkasis scam again.”