Book 3: Sound And Fury

  Chapter 19 Cruel Summer

  “Gandree boy!” Daisybelle snapped from the stairs leading into the workshop, down in the basement of his home. “How much longer will you stay in this hole, making noise and ignoring important matters?” The sound of her feet on the steps seemed much louder than should be possible, as she descended. “I am inconvenienced!”

  “Oh…! Daze!” He muttered in surprise, as though she had not been waiting for him for a full bell. “Sorry, I got distracted…”

  “Shush, Boy! I have been talking with Amy… She says that as a princess’ consort, you have been terribly lax in your duties!” She grinned at him wickedly, as she stepped into the cool, dim confines of the workshop. “No dragons slain, hardly any villains defeated and I haven’t been rescued… not even once.”

  “What am I supposed to rescue you from? My beloved is a walking disaster with an obsidian knife.” He scoffed.

  “Boredom, boy…! You must battle my boredom and restlessness.” She slipped up behind the burly lad, then began climbing him, while he was trying to put his tools away. “I am sick of seeing the same face everywhere I look! You must take the princess and the queen into the town market! We demand a royal outing!”

  She sniffed at his neck and nibbled on Gandree’s ear thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes, it will be our first date! Going to uncle Ace’s shop doesn’t count!” She declared with utter finality, as she hopped down from his shoulders, landing lightly on her toes with a flourish and spin.

  “It feels like I’m being kidnapped.” He muttered, with a smile of pure pleasure on his wide, craggy face.

  “Do I get a say in all this?” He asked, watching the way her summer dress of pale gray linen twirled up, granting him the barest glimpse of her bare bottom.

  “None at all.” She quipped. “Does the knight’s horse get to decide when to ride into battle?” She gave his backside a swat that left her hand stinging from the impact with an iron hard, immovable asscheek. “Owie! Gandree has a head of stone and an ass to match…”

  He reached out and gathered his squishy little goblin lass to his breast and sighed as she struggled in his arms. “I suppose I have no choice, then. First, I’d better get cleaned up…” He carried her up the stairs, ignoring her giggling protests and half hearted attempts to wriggle free.

  “Oh noes! I’m but a helpless goblin maiden…” She chirped and sang merrily, as she wriggled around. Most of the squirming she did seemed to be aimed at disarranging her dress in distracting and inappropriate ways.

  By the time he got her into his little garden and private pool, she was slung over his shoulder, her bare, bouncy, green bottom resting against his cheek. “My dress! My sacred modesty! You scoundrel!” She purred. “How could you be so immoral and vile?”

  “You should have worn under-things, then.” He murmured. “And you are the one hiking your skirts up.”

  “Hmph. Is only cause Gandree boy is too double dumb to tear my dress off and ravish me on the spot, like a proper boy should, when being seduced by a beautiful girl.” She grumbled in his ear.

  “Now toss me in the bath and stir my guts with that mighty thing of yours.”

  “Gods above and below… You are so adorable, until you open your mouth.” He sighed, as he slipped into the pool with his silly goblin girl.

  “Shut up and stick me, boy. Queen Sabbie is waiting for us.” She growled softly, while her hands found what they were looking for, under the swirling surface of the water.

  /

  Queen Sabrina sipped her tea at the kitchen table, smiling at Hermit; who clung to the wall, scuttling and shifting nervously on his eight long legs. “Really, my friend…” She sighed softly.

  “Lady SpiderBoobs seems very kind and sweet. I can’t imagine what has you so flustered.” She purred warmly over the rim of her cup.

  “I am… Inexperienced, when it comes to dealing with my own kind… Arachneans, I mean.” He stammered through his harp. “Apologies, creating humanoid speech is challenging, when I am feeling… things.”

  “Yes dear… I understand.” She purred. “Now tell me why you are so upset. Do you not like spider girls, or is she not pretty to your eyes?”

  “She’s beautiful… and so familiar, yet alien as well… I find her compelling and deeply…. Attractive.” The colossal spider monk sighed through his harp of bones and sinew.

  “Marvelous…!” She sighed sweetly, eying the spider with a slightly predatory gaze. “Her divine grace will be pleased to hear you say so, even if only through her cultist’s ears.”

  Sabrina swept away in a swirl of ivory linen sundress, giggling merrily and flipping her skirt up, to briefly flash her pretty, blue striped spider-silk panties at the startled arachnid.

  “I’m off to wander the town market with princess Daisybelle and her pet… Will you escort me, lord Hermit? I must ask, since my lord husband is away, playing with dead things.” She asked, placing one tiny green hand on a furry leg.

  “I cannot roam a human town… I will cause a panic!” He strummed urgently. “You just want to keep bullying me about lady Thirp!” His protest sounded weak, even to himself.

  “I fully intend to show you the error of your ways, lord Hermit. Lady SpiderBoobs is not to be denied; her divine Will is paramount.” Sabrina replied archly.

  “As for the humans… I have been watching them from across the river. They seem accustomed to seeing other kith walking their streets. There are bat-kin, Cat, dog, otter and beaver folk here.” She smiled sweetly at the big furry creature, slowly drawing him out into the garden behind her.

  “I’ve never… never entered a mammalian settlement of any kind, save for the family compound and our war-camps.” He murmured almost too softly to hear over the noise of the Garies, still bustling about the inn yard and garden.

  “Neither have I ever gone into a human city… Aside from the town of king Ghnash’s human vassals. This promises to be fun!” Sabrina cried in her high, sweet voice.

  “We shall have Gandree along, he can talk of human things with them, that should serve to ease any fears they might hold…”

  She stepped out into the garden proper as third bell sang out from the city, pulling Hermit along while ignoring his very reasonable arguments. They found Gandree and Daisybelle waiting on the path to the bridge, just as promised, dressed for an outing in town.

  “Your majesty, king Ghnash is away fighting evil, should we be gallivanting among these humans during such times?” Hermit offered feebly, as she pulled him gently along.

  “Ghnash will be home soon.” She answered firmly. “He fears no dead men, certainly not with lord Necro along…”

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  /

  One peaceful, sunny summer morning, in a quiet frontier town beside a mountain lake, two goblins, a dwarf and a giant jumping spider strolled out for a morning in the market…

  “No it’s not a monster attack… Please calm down and go about your business, nothing to see here!”

  The count’s guard captain, Malus shouted at the crowd of panicked townsfolk who’d stampeded for the city gates at the first sign of the hairy abomination on eight legs.

  The two goblin females and their stocky male companion were still down in the market by the lake shore, walking their pet spider. The short, burly veteran guard could see them from the wall. They continued peacefully perusing the wares of the vendors brave or foolish enough to stick around, in the face of a spider that massed as much as a good sized horse and a pair of green, goblin women.

  The mob continued jostling and flustering themselves just inside the open city gates, demanding that the guard ride out and the portals be shut immediately.

  “Stilbend, Bran, any citizen clogging up my gate in two minutes is to be cited for disturbing the public peace and fined a copper mark, payable in coin to the count himself.” Malus barked at his two subordinates.

  “Jeng, you take the wall; Bran is in command until I return or you are relieved… I will go escort our guests through the market, to ensure the peace remains undisturbed.” He spoke that last to the gathered citizens and merchants still lingering in the shadow of the gate house.

  With that, the stocky, ugly brawler stomped down the steps from his post atop the gatehouse and pushed through the rapidly dispersing crowd. He made no effort to avoid stepping on more than a few toes in his iron shod boots, as he stomped off into the shops and stalls of the gate market.

  /

  Daisybelle stood stock still, shocked to her core, outside a cutler’s stall. The small kitchen knife she held was no kind of weapon, it was barely a knife at all… by Ward clan standards. Just a simple iron blade with a tool steel edge welded in, mounted to a simple grip of staghorn, fixed with copper rivets.

  “I can use this…” She whispered, her voice filled with awe. “I really can…”

  “Hermit says it’s because the curses in the goblin race’s Akashic record have been broken…” Gandree translated for the goblin ladies, as they shopped the booths and stalls that were still open.

  “Your species’ natural development has been artificially halted for several centuries. Now, that should all be cleared up.” He shrugged his massive shoulders and smiled at the two women.

  “King Ghnash probably brought a bunch of technology with him, when he was added to the goblin record, as well. Once those technologies are opened, you gain the ability to use more advanced tools.” The spider remarked calmly.

  “It’s a vexing issue I’ve had to deal with for some time now. My own species has never developed beyond simple tools, since they have frankly… never been needed.” Hermit shook himself and did a few short hops to shake off the mood.

  “I too, have been incorporated into my species fully, and now share the racial gifts of my kind… But they, or rather, we, simply never developed those technologies.” He delivered a spidery sigh through interpretive dance, soft shoeing his frustration across the greensward.

  “We’ll have the Ragamuffins make you something super sharp and pointy, Daze.” Gandree whispered, as he set a copper half on the cutler’s counter.

  “Why won’t you make me something?” She sniffed at the dwarf lad. “All you stumpy, beardo rockskins are famously good at hammerbanging and metal stuff!”

  “Daze! You just did four racisms in one sentence… All those names you used are slurs and it’s a stereotype that all dwarves are smiths. That’s actually a little impressive.” Gandree scolded the bubbly green lass.

  “Well, aren’t you a smith?” She demanded sharply, with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Well… yeah… but…” He began, weakly.

  “So why won’t you make me something?” She demanded, as they walked along to a potter’s shop, eyeing some rather fine crockery.

  “I usually work in non ferrous metals. Copper, bronze, brass and the like. I have to focus really hard or any iron I work with for too long… starts rusting away.” He looked more than a little ashamed by his admission.

  “It’s pretty embarrassing and the dwarves did not take it well… When they found out I had a gift for woodworking, things got really bad.”

  “How so?” Sabrina asked, since Daisybelle seemed too engrossed in the little knife her boy had bought her.

  “Being a dwarf who struggles to work iron is bad enough, but dwarven carpenters are the butt of every rude dwarven tavern tale and joke. It’s a whole stupid, cultural thing.” The lad grumbled angrily.

  “Yes yes… All those beardos are double dumb.” Daisybelle agreed merrily, still playing with her new toy.

  “Nobody above ground cares what the long-bearded rock-humpers scratch their balls with; whether it be metal, stone, or even wooden.” Sabrina replied sweetly, in her best queenly proclamation voice.

  “Oh! good one, queen Sabbie! Say more mean things in your fancy words!” The younger gobbo squeaked with delight.

  “Excuse me, sir… Ladies…” A gravelly male voice grumbled from a respectful distance away. “I’m afraid your familiar is causing some of the local citizens a bit of distress. I am Malus, captain of the count’s guard… If you would allow me the honor of escorting you, things will probably go much more smoothly.”

  The ugly, scarred man’s attempt at diplomacy and urbane smooth talk failed hard, sounding like a poorly rehearsed line from a third rate play, even in his own ears.

  “Apologies…” He rumbled a moment later, dipping a slight bow to the little group.

  “Splendid, sir Malus!” Sabrina sang out happily, offering a very slight courtesy in return.

  “I am Sabrina, queen of the Goblins, First-Wife of great Ghnash, the terrible and merciful. With me are Daisybelle, Warg-Knight of the goblin king and her mate, Gandree Ward.” She paused for a moment, giving Malus some time to adjust to the calm, educated goblin lady before him.

  “Ward? As in one of that man’s people? One of Gary’s people?” The veteran warrior asked very gently.

  “I suppose so; he is my husband’s brother and also young Gandree’s brother, or uncle, or something…” She paused again, contemplating the complexities of the family dynamic. “But we must not forget lord Hermit, who is also here… my apologies.”

  She curtseyed to the giant spider and smiled sweetly, before turning her attention back to the guard captain.

  “He is Gary Ward’s brother as well…” She shrugged prettily and smiled again.

  “Queen Sabbie’s good at making fancy talk…” Daisybelle whispered to the dwarf lad, entirely too loudly. “I should learn some of that… There’s more to being a goblin princess than just disemboweling people and stuff.”

  “Yes, Daze… You are very smart.” Gandree murmured, as he patted her head fondly.

  “Fucking right I is smart…” She growled happily, leaning into her head pat and angling for an ear rub. “Oh… Good skritches, dwarfy boy.”

  “By all means, sir Malus. We would value your company and advice… We are new in the region.” Sabbie interjected smoothly, while Hermit danced awkwardly behind the young couple. Gandree and Daisybelle had traded ear rubs, for a chaste embrace, while their lips drew ever closer together.

  “Please forgive lord Hermit’s antics, he has difficulty with human speech… Sir Gandree has agreed to translate, though he seems distracted from that duty.”

  The goblin queen’s words carried just enough heat to warm the young dwarf’s cheeks and set him to stammering out an apology, as the dwarf turned his attention to the furiously dancing spider.

  “Trouble nearby… He says someone is tampering with a void maw in the region, attempting to unseal it and allow unrestricted travel.” Gandree related breathlessly. A moment later, bells began ringing from the compound across the bridge, soon joined by the alarm bells in town as they took up the call.

  “Someone is trying to march an army here, through the void.” He gasped, his blue-gray eyes wide in surprise.

  /

  Pontiff Lumos coughed, as his first attempt at a wicked chuckle of glee failed miserably. He gestured to his guard, indicating that the servants present in the hall should be seized and executed, lest they relate the story of his embarrassing slip-up.

  Human emotes were complex and challenging to master, even after so many centuries pretending to be one. Secretly, deep inside, Lumos was a little embarrassed… Looking back, he’d been doing a pathetic job of faking human ways for generations. He attempted to sigh wistfully, but only produced a quiet wheeze that drifted in the silent throne room.

  In his mind’s eye, Lumos watched the sad and miserable fate of Fletcher; beaten, trapped inside his own flesh vessel and his phylactery lost in the stinking, murky depths of the nameless towns’ little harbor. A few ships, slaves, officers and preserved corpses were a fine bargain, for luring that thing away from its home realm.

  Drawing both the Necromancer and the goblin king away from their places of power was a stroke of luck too perfect to ignore.

  In another corner of his vast intellect, Lumos watched his forces march into the void, blindfolded and lashed on by their overseers. Many would go mad on the journey, but mad slave soldiers were no less effective than sane ones, they would answer his overseer’s whips, regardless.

  Twenty thousand conscripts and slaves led the way, followed by a full legion of his best mortal footmen, cultists sworn to the light from birth and obedient to a fault.

  Mixed among them were his possessed overseers; officers and priests of the light who willingly bore their gods’ servants in their bodies and souls, allowing them to travel the ways as mortals.

  Sending so many of his possessions across was a risk, but the temptation of seizing the power of the God-Stone… and perhaps even slaying the Necromancer and his filthy Tarots, was too tempting a prize.

  “Destroy all sentient life in that valley.” Lumos commanded his general, just before he entered the void behind his troops. When you are finished, sacrifice the slaves, reanimate as many unbound zombies as you can and evacuate, with the God-Stone.

  “It shall be done.” Trask grunted eagerly.

  /

  A batkin scout landed on the count’s balcony an hour after sundown, singing her report to the nervous lord and his calm, golden wife.

  “At least twenty thousand, lord Liam… all or nearly all are living men. Slave soldiers, I believe most of them to be, but I saw many troopers in burnished armor as well.”

  “No cavalry? Siege weapons?” Liam asked sharply.

  “I saw none, no beasts of burden or mounts at all.” She whispered softly in the face of the agitated lord.

  “Fear not, Amaryllis. My lord husband is not cross with you… and you would have no cause for fear, even were he dissatisfied with your performance.” Countess Trelawny spoke loudly enough to drive her point forcefully home in the handsome human count pacing the council chamber.

  “Forgiveness, please, mistress Amaryllis… I spoke thoughtlessly.” He murmured, as his wife glared holes in him from her seat at the head of the conference table.

  “Twenty thousand and more… on my doorstep…” He mumbled quietly.

  “Twenty thousand slave soldiers, my lord. I would estimate we have at least two days before they can muster their forces and attack.” Malus answered softly. “Their numbers are great, but how well they perform remains to be seen.”

  “Perform…” Tawny and Liam muttered together, in perfect harmony.

  “Malus, assist marshal Argent with the evacuations, mustering the troops and other preparations… We’re going to the inn.” The count declared, firmly.