Ezra Enzo, the Magnificent. That's what the sign said. It was painted in different shades of red, from an almost pinkish hue to a crimson that stuck out like a run over thumb. The sign jingled and jangled on its rusty, iron hinges as it hung on the back of the caravan cart. This along with more than a dozen pots and pans, an empty birdcage, a series of sacks that held all sorts of metallic items. If this Enzo character had intended to travel across this expansive wasteland in stealth that was an idea he could do well to forget about. There was scarcely a brief moment of silence as his wagon strolled across the sands. He traveled between two sets of dunes, in some brief shade and the dual-wheels on each corner of the wagon allowed it to grind through the sandy turf with little to no problem, with a series of short shafts between each wheel allowed the weight of the wagon to spread more evenly across the sand.
The bent old man in the wagon seat rapped the reins of his mule against the animal's back, which honked irritably and cast a dragon's glance at him, but trudged on without furthur concern. "C'mon you!" he grunted and peered through his bushy eyebrows, sweat beading on his bald, headbanded skull. His thick beard and mustache were already drenched with sweat, but he did not appear exhausted. Behind him rose the bulbous, rounded shape of the wagon's patched tarp covering, and in there clanged the sounds of even more junk.
Enzo let the mule chop and clomp along the sand though he suddenly pulled back hard on the reigns, stopping the heavy animal from smashing down on a shiny object he spotted from beneath the bush of his brows. "Whoa, you damn hoof-beast! I gots-a to see that there thing afore you damn near smash it to pieces. Who knows, could be valable or sump'm." The old man threw himself into a nearby dune, getting up like nothing and dusting himself off. He came forward and picked up a rather odd looking retractable staff, with one end of it extended. "Ah, what do we have here! Hm?" he said, holding the thing delicately. "Who knows how much this'll go fer at market." He chucked the staff into his wagon tent, having the clank disappear amongst the other potential valuables within. Then got in the cart and started to drive away.
Then there was a cry from the side, a young man's voice it seemed and he drew closer as he ran desperately. "Hey, you! Sir! Please stop!" cried Euzec as he dashed over the dune but then fell down when his foot caught in a sand bowl. He took one hell of a tumble before coming to a stop right at the bottom of the valley.
"Y'all right there, son?" Enzo said. He tugged hard on the reins.
Euzec stood up with a leap and grinned. "Yessir. Thanks for stopping."
Enzo looked up at the top of the dune. "Ye crazy, boy're what? Whatcha made me stop fer? Ain't nobody chasin ya?"
"Er, no, sir. Nobody... Why do you ask?" He looked at him innocently.
"I thought ye'd half lost yer mind or sump'm. What's wrong witcha!? I'mma in a hurry, now whatcha want?"
"So sorry...but you, um, didn't happen to see a-a staff around here did you? I'm looking for it. I lost it when I passed through here yesterday."
Enzo squinted his eyes suspiciously. "Aye...and what if I did, boy? What does the darned thing a-look a-like?"
"It's quite unique," Euzec replied excitedly, and he went into details of the thing for quite a while until the old man had fallen asleep. He awoke with a startle when the eunuch pulled the hairs of his beard. "Well...do you have it?"
Enzo grimaced amongst his wrinkles and spat off to the side in thought. "Y'know, boy I'm startin' to think ye just ain't right in the head. I did so happen to find a staff a few minutes afore ye took a spill there. So I'll tell ya, what, 'cause I'm a nice ol' man, I'll letcha have yer staff back. On'a condition that ye shut yer yap."
Euzec was taken aback but merely nodded. "Okay."
"Alrighty, go on and get it then, son. I'm on mah way to the next town. Ye can ride along if it suitcha. Don't make no diff'rnse ter me. So whatcha say, huh? I ain't got all day."
"You have a deal. And thank you for your kindness." Euzec climbed onto the driver's seat then and headed inside the wagon tent, stumbling around and finding no stable footing for which to begin his search. After a while of rummaging, he found the half-retracted staff and smiled. He was about to call out to the old junkman when the cart jerked into motion, sending him for a swim down into the pile of junk that surrounded the tent. It seemed like a deep endless sea and he tried to fight against a broken shield that smashed into his face. Dammit! How the hell did the old fuck know where anything was in here? He felt himself being dragged though as if gravity summoned him to the bottom of the wagon through the daggers, shields, statuettes, pots, pans, old coins, paintings, broken chairs, rusty tools, wheelbits, mugs, cups, plates, bundles of blankets, dozens of stacked papers, crumbly logs, cans, paints, brushes, lenses, a telescope, rings, ugly jewelry and eternity! Such items only scratched the surface of what was inside this mountainous mess. He sunk through it, until he saw neither light nor darkness, only some place inbetween until he suddenly felt like he was falling and falling fast.
It took him but a second to realize this until he was bashing through a canopy of trees, trying to slow his fall all the way screaming like a bat out of hell. All the while he held tight to his staff and shielded his face with his arms as he crashed through to a pile of underbrush, cushioning his fall but landing with a scratched face and bruised ego. When he caught his breath and vertigo left him, the lost eunuch finally looked up to see where all the junk had taken him. Was...this the damn jungle? Euzec sat up and kneeled. He'd never been to the jungle before, but how in the heck did that wagon take him here? And, worse yet, how could he get back? Kushumoro wouldn't like his absence at all; not one bit. Hm...maybe there was something to that 'Ezra Enzo the Magnificent' crap.
