Book 3: Sound And Fury

  Chapter 40 No, Up Your Waterspout!

  In the web draped grove of trees that made up base camp, The expedition commander and the captain of the rescue and recovery squad were having a tense meeting, with the two expedition members who had actually contacted the hominids.

  The widow matron sulked in her high corner of the clearing, in the entry to her funnel, behind her bulwark of chaotic and tangled silk. She dropped yet another finely wrought textile to the forest floor, far below. A splendid shawl, embroidered all over in silver roses, ivory vines and long, wicked thorns of black drifted down among so many other scarves and tapestries. Even the long, elegantly knotted tassels at the fringe spoke of danger, decisions and risk.

  Lady Finli’tichintch set aside her auguries for a moment and strummed a pensive and frustrated chord from her temporary web among the trees. The portents and signs were deeply distressing; all indications were pointing to a calamitous change approaching, some event that might upend the social order of the homeworld. What it could be, or how to respond to her ominous divinations remained occult; while her deity declined to provide her any guidance at all.

  Once more she cast her web net onto the wind and reeled the tangled silken strands back to her nest.

  “Web-Tangles!” She strummed her frustration into the early morning light as the artifact returned for analysis. Yet again, she untangled the heart of the web and found the primary significator; a seven pointed star stared out from her spellcrafted textile. Chaos and change, extreme and disruptive changes always followed the sign of the emerald star… and it had appeared in four of her last six castings.

  “I too have had no success with divination…” Captain Thris’litch of the rescue and recovery team muttered sourly through her harp. The massive wandering spider Adventurer strummed a short, wordless run of sweet and melodious primate music she’d picked up in her travels and continued a moment later.

  “We have received a communication from home, from the Union of Guilds… Headquarters, the office of the director, in fact.”

  Thris wasn’t proud of the pleasure she derived from watching the high and mighty widow matron get all eight legs knocked out from under her, by her own faith blinded folly. The wandering spider captain had already read the long, tersely worded missive, spun out on a cleverly knotted ribbon bow of finest crimson silk.

  In no uncertain terms, the director herself instructed lady Finli’tichintch to ‘Make Things Right’ with the humans at any cost. The unwritten subtext in the delightful letter suggested that should she fail in her new diplomatic mission, she would face serious inquiries at home. The great lady did not receive her new mission with good grace or the dignity befitting her lofty status… Which was totally worth the price of admission.

  “Oh, Frass! Oh, Web-Tangles!” The widow matron stuttered and barked, strumming her web unconsciously in her great distress.

  Kylie and Thyla did their very best to remain still, while their boss completely lost her frass in public. Kylie was so busy struggling to keep from bobbing and hopping in place, her people’s natural laughter; that she failed to notice the widow’s approach.

  “Kylie, Thyla… you must help me…!” She strummed desperately at her two highly entertained subordinates.

  “Ever since a human appeared before me in a divine visitation a few weeks ago, I have developed a crippling phobia of humanoids!”

  “This I have to hear…!” Thris declared in rich, delighted chords. “You can tell us all about it, while we journey down this road and actually enter a human town!” She slipped and slid in a smooth shuffle step as they walked. “A high stakes diplomatic mission to an actual human settlement! I’m so excited!”

  “I’m so pleased to offer you entertainment, lady Thris.” The matron whispered coldly, glaring at the larger spider furiously.

  “Some few weeks agone, whilst minding my egg clutch in the sacred brooding grove of my clan, a pink, naked human appeared! I nearly devoured him, until he spoke… He actually spoke in a civilized language!” She gasped in marvel. “Shortly thereafter, divine lady Thirp appeared, the Spinner in Darkness! Her radiance manifested in my grove, physically to retrieve her lost pet!”

  Soft chords of disbelief thrummed and strummed from the small group of giant spiders as they traveled down the long road in the sunshine.

  “It’s true!” She insisted stridently, hammering her bass notes to express her deeply held conviction. “Having sensed lady Thirp’s glory, in her divine presence; I remain sensitive to her divine essence. When this aperture appeared, I detected her grace emanating ever so faintly from this demi plane.” She shrugged, flexing all eight in an ambivalent gesture. “The rest of this boondoggle was just an unfortunate set of cascading misapprehensions.”

  “Whose misapprehension was it that led us into this embarrassing situation?” Kylie wondered idly, with just a bit of sass in her tone.

  Thris lobbed that one back with a wry chuckle. “We’ll address that in our mission debrief; which promises to be exhaustive and will no doubt be examined with great interest by the upper echelons of the Union of Guilds.”

  “Oh, sweet lord Aclintherios, preserve me… I think I’m starting to molt!” The widow sobbed.

  /

  Heidi drifted on the surface of the bath, wondering how life had gone so far from her expectations. She’d awakened in a completely different place, in fresh clothes, lying on the lawn beside her still unconscious man, watched over by the girl in blue.

  “To the left you’ll find the ladies’ baths…” Was all the girl had said, before rudely waving at her to go clean up.

  The pool was wide, hot, steamy and quiet. Too quiet. She roused herself and donned one of the many green robes hanging in the dressing room, since her soiled prison garb had been spirited away at some point. She exited the screening hedge with her nerves stretched taut as a bowstring.

  No sooner had she stepped out of the dressing area, than that madman appeared; too handsome to be real and too unnatural to be anything mortal.

  “Hi there. Let’s get this taken care of right away. I’m Ward, your new deity and parole officer. Your boyfriend is Contracting me as we speak and I’d like to go over the basics just once, so go on… Shake my hand.”

  “What do you mean? Ambrose has Contracted with you?” She demanded, still struggling with new things.

  “No, he’s contracting another avatar of me, over in the men’s baths. I’m a divine being, multifarious and non-localized… I even exist in a vast number of parallel, alternate and dungeon worlds, all over the greater cosmos, all at the same time. Every golden fig tree is but a single leaf in the nearly infinite orchard that I am, simultaneously.” He declared proudly.

  “You must be a god… Because that sounded like complete bullshit!” She barked angrily.

  “I like you, kid. We’ll do great things together. You can be a psychopomp and ease the dead into their next lives, or become a preacher and minister to my growing flock… It’s all up to you, so long as you stay within the lines.” The definitely not a mortal man said calmly, still holding that huge, calloused hand out to her.

  With a shadowy twinkle, a plump, golden fig that blushed to a rich, fleshy pink at the base appeared on his palm. “Or perhaps you wish to sample the fruit of forbidden knowledge and taste what you’ve been missing. I have mages, warriors and adventurers in my cult too.”

  His hand felt human, normal and warm. The fruit was body temperature too, it almost seemed to have a subtle life of its own. She sighed and bit into the soft, plump fruit. Unbearable sweetness and a melancholy, nostalgic sensation blasted across her whole face, as the fig detonated in an explosion of flavor.

  She had no recollection of finishing the big fruit, but while she was licking the last of the juice from her fingers, something gentle and soothing unfolded in her ribcage, right beside her heart.

  “Oh, my!” She gasped.

  “I know, right?” Ward declared smugly, then he gave her a smile and a wink, before stepping back under the spreading boughs of a fig tree, where he promptly vanished.

  “Take a few minutes, then head out into the garden. Ambrose and I will meet you there.” The empty shadow beneath the boughs said quite clearly, in the natural sounds of an orchard; the creaking of branches, insect noises and softly whispering leaves.

  /

  Ambrose the light cult cleric opened his eyes in a room that was dim and cool, but felt hot and far too bright. Just as the sounds of his heart, breathing and bowels created a terrible thunder in his ears, though the cell block was as quiet as a tomb.

  Except for the birdsong, crickets, running water and the wind in the trees above the thick, soft lawn he was sprawled on. He lay in the shade of a wide spreading magnolia tree, soaking up the warmth of the summer afternoon from the soil below him.

  “It was hard to convince my dad to spare you two.” The high, sweet and melodious voice of a young woman whispered from not far away. “My kitty, Shiro… He says you aren’t rotten people. He’s an expert in such things. He’s the prime servitor of Truck-Kun, the Courier of Souls.”

  “What… What happened?” He gasped, so weakly he could barely make himself heard.

  “I bet you feel like shit!” She smiled at him and gave a wicked chuckle. “My dad broke all your Contracts, severed all your bonds and cleared away a whole mess of nasty curses designed to enforce your obedience and compliance.”

  “Contracts? Curses?’” He mumbled thickly, while his head throbbed and felt more swollen with each word.

  “Yup, right on both counts. Get yourself together, you’re leaving this prison and getting out on parole.” She said softly, taking pity on his pounding skull. “Heidi is freshening up, over on the ladies’ side. Do I need to call one of my brothers in to help you bathe?”

  “No… I can manage…” He gasped, once he’d mastered the feat of standing and remaining upright. Actually walking was a more advanced stunt...

  “Hit the showers first, then soak in the big bath for as long as you can manage.” His petite, blue clad guard pointed off to the right and a thick green hedge of boxwood.

  Walking in the indicated direction, he found a gap in a hedge that led him into a vast, swirling pool of green water, fed by a waterfall and surrounded by a verdant garden. Steam rose off the pool, carrying the scents of herbs, earth and minerals. He showered in a daze, before falling into the enormous pool of hot, bubbling water.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  After a timeless and mindless period of floating around, Ambrose opened his eyes when a shadow fell over him. A fig tree shaded this part of the pool, the pale gray bark of the thick trunk contrasted nicely with the deep green of the leaves and the golden, plump fruits that blushed a fleshy pink at their pendulous ends.

  “I’ll wait until your girlfriend finishes bathing and can get dressed, before I manifest before her.” A man’s familiar voice spoke from directly behind him. The prone and floating necromancer tried to jump to his feet, which resulted in a moderate sized splash and his butt hitting the bottom of the bath.

  When he sputtered his way back to the surface, the too handsome, smiling, sharp-toothed man in black slowly climbed from the shade of the tree, as if he were emerging from a tent flap into another world.

  “I’m here to finalize a worship Contract with you… That will alleviate most of the magical imbalance that’s making your insides try to evacuate through your navel.” Ward said calmly, while the young man struggled to get himself together.

  “I’ve already touched your soul, my mark is on you. Even should you decline my offer, I’ll know if you get up to any foolishness. Trust me, being my cleric will be much less onerous and vile. Also, any attempt to use necromancy will alert me immediately.” He smiled that predator’s smile at the damp and dripping young man in the bath. “That would be a parole violation that would quickly lead to a lifetime of fulfilling labor, in service to a local wasp queen.”

  “So I have no choice?” He asked softly, fearful of this mad and mercurial being.

  “You do! If you think you can find a god or spirit to Contract you that’s a better fit, by all means go ahead. To be frank, I don’t want you… either of you. I’m making this offer as a special favor to my niece, on her sixteenth birthday.” He smiled with actual warmth at some thought.

  “Amy’s such a sweetheart, I’d do almost anything for her… and she wants you to have a second chance at a real life. My nephews are far less interested in your fate; so long as you can’t do any more necro-mischief.”

  “Very well… I’ll accept whatever hex you wish to place on me.” He muttered.

  “Cool, let’s shake on it.” The man held out a large, scarred and calloused hand for him to clasp, a workman’s hand, warm and mortal feeling.

  As that mundane contact ended, something potent jolted the necromancer’s spine, sending painful lightning tingles all the way to his fingertips and toes. Whatever it was, that sensation bounced back from his extremities and returned as a cooling, soothing wave of something that was not quite warmth. “Oh, wow! We really vibe, kid! This is going to be more interesting than I thought! Relax for a bit, I’ll take the wheel.”

  Ambrose found that mystifying suggestion entirely sensible, despite the words being complete nonsense. He nodded dumbly and smiled at the big weirdo looming over him so menacingly. A merry giggle of giddy stupidity slipped from the young man’s slack, drooling lips as he agreed with anything his new best friend suggested.

  When he finally opened his eyes again, he was dressed, and standing beside Hiedi on the lawn where he’d awakened not so very long ago.

  “Well, I guess Ambrose is back…. Welcome to the family, kids. Follow me to your new lodgings, we’re giving you a few days to get your heads right, before we begin your training.” Ward announced with delight evident on his too handsome face.

  “Training?” Heidi asked warily.

  “Well, if you’re joining my cult, we need to get you up to speed on dogma, doctrine and scripture.” The mad being answered cheerfully. “There’s no scriptures, no dogma and only one doctrine, only one virtue. Compassion.” He shrugged at their confused noises.

  “Every life has value, to someone. We prioritize sentients over beasts, the young over the old, whose time is done and seek to send each life on into the void with dignity and at peace. Healing is better than harming, harming is better than killing and when we must kill we do so as cleanly as possible.”

  “That sounds high minded and impossible to enforce.” Ambrose muttered, while struggling to get his brain working again.

  “I never mentioned enforcing anything. Or did I? I’m Contracted to your very soul, my children. If I needed armed goons and an inquisition to impose my will, what kind of god would that make me?”

  “The only kind of god we’re familiar with…” Ambrose replied, his voice was very dry… absolutely dessicated, like his mouth.

  “That’s fair, son… that’s fair.” Ward sighed, as he led them off to a humble stone cottage by the waterside, on the edge of town. Hot tea was already laid out on the table in the kitchen, with only two cups. Ward stopped at the threshold, after ushering them inside. He pointed to the tea service and smiled.

  “This is my second cultist’s house; he’s letting you stay here, so take care of the place. We’ve stocked it with supplies and necessities, you’ll find a small amount of the local money on the hearth.”

  “So you’re just leaving us here?” Heidi demanded.

  “Yup. Meet the locals, relax and just live for a few days; then we’ll talk. If you get in trouble, go to the town guards, the inn or the castle.”

  With that, he faded into the gathering shadows of evening.

  The two young people sat on the porch of their new quarters, watching the people of the town’s outskirts bustle about and live their lives for a while. Finally, Ambrose spoke softly. “This place seems peaceful…”

  That was when the screams began, followed by a stream of people fleeing for their lives, from a small group of terrifying spider beings crawling down the road toward the town. “Well, shit…” Ambrose mumbled awkwardly, before pouring more tea for Hiedi.

  /

  The locals of Foresthome considered themselves immune to oddities and resistant to panic, after so many weird, deranged, dangerous and impossible events in rapid succession. Things almost felt normal again, on the streets and even by the lakeside, where the inn complex still loomed across the water. Even that madhouse had been quiet and calm for the last two days.

  After a scant time of relative peace and quiet, following the departure of the massive, creepy slave army and the even more unnerving cadre of Garies; the town was once more in a tizzy. The sound of every door and window being slammed closed, the shouts of parents and pet owners, calling their loved ones home and cries of raw, mindless terror rose from the edge of town, followed by rising alarm bells.

  /

  “That’s it…” The Fool sighed in the private grotto pool with Shai and a few close friends. “Most of the Tarots are heading home, count Liam is going to indenture all the slavers and overseers for five years of public service, pending extradition by the new secular government of LightGlen. Those two sailors shipped out with the legion, while Molly and her mom are taking up residence in Foresthome, in the countess’ service.”

  “That’s a clean sweep!” Becky muttered with satisfaction. “I’m amazed at how quickly your powers are returning, Gary!”

  “No way! My ‘powers’ are little more than parlor tricks, until I can get my stuff sorted out. I’m garbage right now. We just got super lucky with those idiots; they set up camp on my territory…”

  Gary sagged a little and smiled. “The chumps hugged right up around my magic nutsack; then they were surprised when I dick-slapped them across the face.” He grumbled happily. “My soul and shadow took a beating, though. It’ll probably be a few days before I can chase all the cobwebs out of my attic.”

  A soft cough came from the entrance, generated by the nervous throat of Malus, the count’s guard captain and long acquaintance of the Wards. “Gary, Shai… Count Liam requests your assistance with a diplomatic matter… We have a… Delegation? We have a group of gigantic spiders at the palace, but none of us can communicate with them.”

  “Aww… man! I just got all the Tarots to go home!” The Fool grumbled weakly. “It never stops!”

  “I’ll translate for uncle Liam. It’s fine.” Barry sighed as he extracted himself from the bath. “Take it easy, just float around until you get even more wrinkled up, old man.”

  “These kids today…!” Gary grumbled in a creaky, old man voice while shaking his fist at the departing brat’s back.

  “What about all those knights and legion troops… Can we just send them back? They seem like pretty massive assholes.” Dannyl asked quietly. “Won’t they just start culting around again?”

  “You think I should have drowned them in a tide of blood? Should I have set those naked, starving slaves on the other groups and let carnage unfold?” Gary sounded tired and very worn, speaking softly from Shai’s enfolding arms.

  “You said it yourself; we got lucky and they were completely unprepared. That trick you pulled with their weapons and armor was clutch, but they can replace that stuff.” The slight, ginger Adventurer continued firmly. “They might become a problem later.”

  Gary sighed and half closed his eyes, while Shai ran her fingers through his hair. “The legion were all unranked, just an army of mundane hired goons. The templars were all iron rank; Contracted to outsiders and bound up in compulsions, just like those necromancers. Their masters gave them enough power to be a terror to the mundane populace, but not enough to become a threat to the actual rulers of that town.” He sighed from the damp and cozy embrace he was almost lost in.

  “I didn’t break their Contracts the way I did with the necromancers, since the mess would have been unbearable. Instead, I just cut most of the curses and bonds away, as they left my territory.” Gary sighed and snuggled farther into his wife’s bosom.

  “In about twenty four hours they should all come undone; leaving our knights super weak and vulnerable. Those guys will be pretty miserable until they can find real divines to Contract.”

  “Real divines?” Becky asked. “What about their local gods, anyway?”

  “LightGlen is not on a ‘real’ world… it’s on a dungeon world that the cult managed to gain control of. They genocided the native sentient species, transplanted a bunch of humans in and started trying to bootstrap themselves from regular demons all the way to godhood. I think that’s the ultimate goal; to infest dungeon worlds and use them to try to become actual gods.”

  “Do they seek to simply expand their powers, or is there some deeper foulness afoot, do ye think?” Shai asked her soggy husband.

  He yawned and stretched, before answering. “In the greater cosmos, there are a lot of entities that exist outside what we consider ‘physical reality’ hence the generic term, ‘outsiders’. In their natural environment they are immortal, non corporeal and pretty much eternal. As purely spiritual beings, drifting in an endless void, I guess some get bored and fidgety after a few timeless eternities.”

  He shrugged and smiled at the gathered friends and family. “There are ‘places’ beyond conventional reality where such beings gather and form communities. Gemma the Jewel Crab came from one of those, before she became a member of this world’s spiritual ecosystem. In her home on the endless reef, even the corals and anemone are sentient, spiritual beings; manifesting a semblance of reality for their own amusement. Lilith the sentient anemone child came from there too; she got snatched up and dropped on our world by the cult, just to cause trouble.”

  “When outsiders start messing with physical worlds, we call them demons.” Amy offered from her corner of the pool. “Shiro says that’s the only real difference between outsiders and demons; intent and malice. The cruelty, carelessness and violence that many summoned outsiders display can often be attributed to ignorance, fear or confusion. Gemma, Llith and your auntie Ellie are all people from outside, summoned into a physical world by surprise, just to create chaos that the cult can exploit.”

  “What about those pontiffs of theirs?” Dannyl demanded.

  “Cult leadership is made up of the demons who are actively trying to infiltrate and ultimately control these worlds and the people on them.” Gary sighed from his cozy nest and picked up the dropped conversational thread again.

  “I suspect it’s because most outsiders are no more powerful in their natural environment than a mundane human is, on his own world. If they can gain access to a physical reality with more flexible rules, like a dungeon world, they can gain more influence over reality and even get mortals to help them cause trouble.”

  “That’s also why shadow control, mind influencing and necromantic magic is so common among demons. As spiritual beings, those forces are the easiest for them to grasp and manipulate.” Amy offered helpfully.

  “In the end, whether an outside being in our world is considered a demon or an outsider… It’s purely subjective and entirely a matter of perception and intent. Gemma joined the pantheon and became a demigoddess through mortal intervention and because Ignis fell in love with her. That opened a door that the cult’s pontiffs have been scratching at forever.” She chuckled darkly and sighed at the blue sky above. “I bet that’s driving those assholes crazy!”

  “Great! But what stops those LightGlen jerks from starting right back up?” Dannyl insisted. “They summoned and Contracted demons before!”

  “The cult’s standard procedure is to sneak in one ritualist to summon in one of their body jumpers or slug queens, making certain that their mortal ritualists die in the process. They don’t want new cults forming and summoning competing spiritual entities in the territory they’re planning to steal.” Gary grumbled.

  “Just like they work hard to limit access to literacy and magical training on worlds they control. They need hungry, ignorant peasants, scratching in the dirt and desperate; not an educated and thriving community of mortals. They’re easier to control that way.”

  “I get it, but won’t those knights and warriors just have to wait for a new pontiff or whatever to get brought in from offworld?” Ivy asked. “I doubt they’ll just take up gardening once they get home.”

  “Unlikely! Super unlikely, Ives.” Gary replied smugly. “My brother, Three of Wands is the dungeon lord of LightGlen now. He’s installed himself as lord mayor and taken over the civic government with the help of the rest of the Tarots and an army of undead.”

  “Really? Those guys running a city?” Dannyl demanded sharply. “I love you, bro… But the fact is, you’re not cut out to administrate anything.”

  “Wow, that hurts! Also, you make a fair point. You’ll notice that I’m not involved with that… not even a little. The Tarots are experienced in this kind of thing, they’ve done it before. Taking worlds from the light cult is kinda their whole thing. They’re not me, bro. We look alike, seem alike and are really weirdly similar, but we’re all individuals…”

  Gary smiled and shook his head at some thought that managed to rattle around in his mostly empty head. “Well, mostly… all but Ghnash; he and I are almost the same guy.” He smiled weakly and sank lower in the water. “Ghnash broke off from me and manifested with almost all of my memories up til I died that last time; just all scrambled up by goblin brain architecture and evil curses.”

  “King Ghnash is best best!” Daisybelle insisted from her seat on Gandree’s lap. “Though, uncle Fool is pretty fun too.”

  “Thanks, Daze.” He murmured fondly at the little green dynamo.

  /

  Barry followed the guard captain up to the palace on his bike, which unnerved the burly warrior’s horse just a little. The lad belted out a few snuffles and whickering noises, which settled the young beast right down.

  “You Wards always have a way with horses… even though you seldom ride them.” Malus grumbled a little sourly, shooting a sullen glare at the back of his suddenly co-operative mount’s head.

  “She says you’re too harsh with the reins, but I think her bit and halter need adjustment. Talk to the stablemaster about her tack.” Barry whispered. “She’s new to the herd and I think they just threw something together for her.”

  Barry left his bike with the stableman’s apprentice, while Malus was busy giving his boss an earful. He held up a worn and battered halter and bit with a rough and jagged crack in one of the parts, scolding the man as if the offending tack had been roughly abrading his own cheek and gums.

  “Sorry, miss Sunflower. I’ll make sure your tack’s in good shape before next time.” Barry whispered to the young mare, as he rubbed some soothing violet ointment onto her red and inflamed cheek. “I have to go help the count now. See you soon.”

  Every horse in the stable chuffed softly as Barry drifted out the door headed for the main hall and whatever he was walking into.

  /