Book 3: Sound And Fury

  Chapter 27 Yacht Rock

  In the darkest hours of the night, something moved at the edge of the former warcamp, now become a prison camp, with individual people staked to stout lengths of chain each with a small, rude hut in the wide, open field of churned earth and scattered wreckage.

  “How many do you have?” Judgement asked the enormous white spider, lurking just inside the tree line.

  “Twentythree… More will be delivered as they are collected. Most of my local kin are rather small, under ten pounds. It takes time to collect them, even if they are easy to catch.”

  A strange, musical and artificial sounding voice sang from the shadows where the awful spider squatted.

  “I have two of the count’s knights in my larder, as well. Please tell the count that they will be released at mid-day, after receiving a thorough scolding from Justice, for attempting to trade in sentient beings. Sir Humphries and sir Garibaldi need additional guidance in the knightly virtues, I think.”

  “Should we… Handle them with care?” Judgement asked, his cold, hard eyes glinting even in the darkness.

  “I think them to be young, angry, stupid and giddy with victory in a very strange battle, in which their lives were in the hands of forces they do not comprehend…” The spider shrugged its many, many shoulders.

  “Our host and our newest brother seem averse to unneeded killing. We should respect that… and perhaps consider where we might learn from them. If nothing else, we can send them to the Hive…” Hermit paused, considering something behind his inscrutable arachnid eyes.

  “Yes, the Hive… New brother Fool has not met her yet. Yes… Excellent.” The giant spider chortled to itself as it faded into the darkness, leaving behind around two dozed silken cocoons that struggled weakly or moaned in despair under the pale light of the moons.

  “I know you can hear me, prisoners… I will cut you free one at a time, those who fuss most get released last.” Judgement spoke clearly and sharply to the pile of bundled men. “Let this be a lesson on the futility of escape.”

  /

  In the wide, spreading forest valley of GoblinHome, under the single peak where the king’s castle stood, the human town bustled and swarmed with activity. Carpenters and masons worked furiously, while tailors, weavers and cobblers plied their trades with just as much vigor at the king’s command. Over the many, many years of king Ghnash’s rule, he only ever made a few, rare, royal demands of the vassals who decided to follow him… But this one was a doozy.

  A new palisade swiftly rose over a collection of tents, providing safety from wildlife, rather than fencing the former slaves in. Requesting that the townsfolk build shelters and provide what they could for the survivors was a big ask, even at midsummer when the crops and fields were deep into the long growing season.

  The king’s loyal human subjects worked with speed and vigor; most of them, or their parents having been liberated from bondage to the cult as well.

  When he’d taken ownership of the valley and expunged the cult, nearly twenty five years before, his following of vassals had doubled the town’s population overnight.

  The challenges of integrating his motley, cobbled together followers, drawn from dozens of worlds and races with the human town had been difficult, but rewarding in the end.

  Prejudices and remembered cruelties ran deep in almost every interspecies interaction, for those first long years, requiring his intervention often. It took a lot of work to break those walls down and his daughters were his bared blade, the explicit threat keeping the uneasy peace in town for his first decade as king of GoblinHome.

  The community beneath his spire and castle managed its own affairs now, mostly… and needed little from him, beyond the protection from monsters and raiders that his warband of adorable, murderous daughters provided so ably.

  Those hard lessons had taught him well, as had a nearly constant influx of new residents brought to his town by the Tarots.

  The newcomers were mostly former slaves, freed from the cult by his brothers, in their war with the cult and their slaver allies. The band of interdimensional lunatics had swiftly discovered that Ghnash and his wives were surprisingly gentle and soothing at home, easing the minds of even the most shell shocked trauma survivors.

  It was a desperately needed skillset, and one that quickly made GoblinHome a very cosmopolitan town, as refugees from dozens of worlds were brought in for rest and treatment… and often became permanent residents.

  These days, humans and beastkin of all kinds lived beneath the king’s castle by the lake side, quietly flourishing under the rule of the undying, mad goblin witch.

  Brandy snapped a salute so crisp, she almost knocked her tall, black shako cap off her head, when the king walked up with queen Sabrina by his side, touring the worksite. She quickly adjusted her coat’s silvery, spider-silk braid and epaulets, to be parade ready before the king and queen.

  A guard was completely unnecessary, but the king’s daughters always did love strutting in uniform.

  “Papa Majesty!” She chirped happily. “They are hard working, King Papa! All tents and privies done… Kitchen and mess hall are almost finished!” She sang, angling her head for a congratulatory ear rub from the king.

  “Mm… Good good daughter…” He murmured, as his strong fingers worked their magic, just like when she had been a tiny gob-lass.

  “So double proud of all of you.” He purred. “The warg knights will bring the new people soon. Be ready and make the transition gentle… Some are barely able to walk without commands… and some may bear watching around our beastkin and demi human friends.”

  “Is bad bad?” She asked quietly, her ear still in her papa’s strong, comforting fingers.

  “Yub yub. Nasty business and many tears will be shed, before we are done…” He grinned at her, a savage, hungry expression that brought a smile to her face. “Much blood too, daughter.”

  “I call dibs on the next raid! Daisybelle and her warg knights have too too much fun! Let my troop’s spears run red too!”

  “Brandy... You’re a fine girl…” He purred, as the little murder munchkin leaned into her ear rub.

  “Oh, and along comes Mary!” Ghnash chirped, as another goblin lass, this one in dark green with bone and shell buttons up the front of her coat marched up, her quiver of short, flint tipped javelins slung on her shoulder. “Now my empty cup is as sweet as the punch!”

  “Dumb dumb dad jokes have been old since I was knee high, King Papa.” She grumbled, after embracing her mother.

  “You smell different…” She purred in sabbies ear. “Smells like you’re babyful… Babyful of goblin boy?!”

  “Yub yub! Sabbie is having a goblin prince…” The queen crowed happily; startling many of the workers, still busily laboring around the goblin royals. “Chelsea is princeful too! Two princes!”

  “Someone should write a song about that!” Ghnash muttered through a shit eating goblin grin. “I’m a witch doctor, not a Spin Doctor, though…” The king’s beloved, ogre bone flute appeared in his hands with a saucy twirl, as he began playing a sprightly and bouncy tune.

  “Best I leave that to the experts.” He declared between measures of instrumental, classic nineties hip-hop.

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  “Big changes are coming, not just many new people. Let’s take ourselves to the castle… Sabbie. We are interfering here.” Ghnash muttered finally, when the song closed out gently and he returned to the ear rub already in progress.

  “Camp looks good. Watch over my new subjects until they get settled. I will find your troop some more… exciting work soon, daughter.”

  “I will come up in an hour, when Layla relieves me.” Brandy grumbled as the king released her ear at last.

  “Wait til tomorrow, then bring Lola and Josie too.” The king called, as he led the queen away by the hand. “Your papa has much to do, back at the castle.”

  “Many goblin wives to ‘Do’, I’m sure.” She teased as he wandered off, giggling with joy.

  “Ghnash is a slave to his duty… A king must be a servant to his people and he must bear this burden with dignity and honor.” He answered glibly, with a cocky strut in his walk.

  /

  “Kree, baby… where are the humans you took?” Gary asked the little insect behind his ear, as he strolled for home; just down the hill, though town and across the bridge. “They’re safe, right?”

  “Those jerks?” She sniffed softly in disgust. “I passed them to the council of hives; to manage them for the benefit of the local people. They are being well cared for and are learning valuable skills, like gardening, forestry and humility.”

  “Umm…” He began awkwardly.

  “They are mine. If you wanted them for yourself, you should have taken them.” She sniffed in his ear and chuckled. “I may release them to you… For certain considerations.”

  “What considerations, Sugarbee?” He asked gently. “What do you want?”

  “Adventure! I want to go on Adventures, like I was promised.” She sighed softly, a little guiltily.

  “When I became your familiar, you were a rebel… fighting against injustice. Then you died. An appropriate fate for most rebel scum, but you were My rebel scum.” She buzzed in his ear, a soft, melancholy sound. “You’re alive and uncursed, I wanna see the world… I wanna experience everything!”

  “I’m sorry Honeybee…” He mumbled, drawing a few nervous glances from other pedestrians as he walked through town. “Now you’re worried that I’m just a boring, crippled innkeeper, right?”

  “You said it, not me!” She buzzed in his ear. “But you’re not cursed anymore… I wanna see new stuff, meet new people and sting more bad-guys!”

  “All right, Sugarbee. Once Shai finishes tearing strips off me, I’ll start working on finding a solution I can live with.” More worried glances shot his way, as he mumbled to himself on a street that had been nervous about the Wards for weeks now… and there was that whole invading army thing. He could feel the attention of the people on the streets, pressing against his senses uncomfortably.

  “Hold that thought, darling.”

  To be fair, all of him were drawing nervous and suspicious glances, pretty much all the time.There were quite a few of him roaming about the market now, which was weird as hell. With an instrument and surrounded by his band, the gaze of strangers could be warm and comfortable, most of the time it just felt itchy on his aura, feeding into his innate sneakiness.

  Gary wrestled down the urge to wrap his stealthy gifts around himself and become unseen, now that he could access those abilities again. “Hey, Septimus?” He demanded of a passing Adventurer, kitted out in Ward co. armor and wearing Gary’s own face, with a few unfamiliar scars. “Have you seen Necro or Ghnash around?”

  “Someone didn’t attend the afternoon jam sesh and briefing…” Seven of coins answered with a grin. “Necro is still on the other side of the void, tidying up. Ghnash went home. Queen Sabrina said he’s gonna be ‘busy’ for a while, now that…” The fellow grinned and coughed in amused embarrassment. “Now that his ‘baby-stick’ works properly…”

  “Uh, yeah, I bet…” They shared a chuckle as they went their own ways without further conversation. Nonetheless, both were busy wondering how many litters of green kids were going to be rolling and tumbling on the forest meadows of GoblinHome by spring.

  “Why do you even want my slaves, anyway?” Kree murmured quietly, once they were alone, on the edge of town. “They are not very good slaves; most are physically weak and not very skilled with their hands. The ones you already have are much better… and so many!”

  “Yeah, I have lots of slaves right now Kree… But that’s not good for me. They buzz and rattle against my senses, curdling some of my magical abilities and making me get…” He paused for a long moment, contemplating some internal difficulty.

  “I’m struggling with spells and magics that are incompatible with my own ideals and convictions.”

  He took a deep breath and shook off the ookie and gross feeling radiating from the elaborate, enspelled control collar around his neck. “Come on. Shai’s waiting to chew us out.” He sighed as the little stone and timber bridge over the river came into view.

  “You’re on your own, squishy, soft-skinned human!” The tiny armored wasp girl buzzed, as he darted away on a flash of rainbow wings and golden armor.

  “Traitor…” He grumbled, as he strolled into his home and face first into chaos.

  /

  The noise and clatter of the household was relentless… Even though no sound escaped the basement workshop; too many people… Too many Garies were scampering around on their various and constant errands for things to ever truly be quiet.

  Add in the ruckus from the training grounds by the lake, where a score of the mad fellows were exploring mounted combat under the direction of Rolf Belen and his unicorn, Ester. The Garies spent most of their time picking themselves up and dusting off, before trying again. Using a lance from the saddle of a bike took practice to pull off.

  Shai sat down on the porch swing and watched the doings for a few restful moments, until Amy came dashing up with a fresh emergency. It was always something, these days.

  “Mama… we’ve got trouble…” She sighed, looking weary and fed up.

  “A bunch of the conscripts and legion soldiers are getting antsy, cause they haven’t seen their clerics. I guess they want to hold their cult observances.” She shrugged helplessly.

  “Child, there do be many who still hold pointless, unheard rites fer War, Craft and Order; even knowing those gods be gone forever…” She grumbled. “Tiresome and troublesome, but more trouble, and we deny them their empty ceremonies. Yer father is still up at the palace, palavering with uncle Liam, the empty headed mooncalf.”

  “Palavering?” The girl in blue asked sweetly. “You mean smoking himself stupid on pipeweed?”

  “Aye, he’ll come wandering in, smelling like a fire in the rope locker, wanting a fumble and a tumble…” The exhausted woman said with a stupid, eager smile on her careworn face.

  “Gross, mom!” Amy chided her mother, while going in for a hug and giggle. “There’s kids in this house! I’m one of them!”

  “Aye, and ye do well know that yer father and I be incorrigible and sleazy.” She gently extracted her daughter from her bosom and smiled. “Find one of yer uncles to select a cleric and escort them to the complainers. Nae the Star… Find someone reliable, like Wheel of Fortune or Ace.”

  “Oh… let me.” Ward whispered from a small ficus bush near the garden path. “Please? I’ll never ask for anything, ever again, today.” The being wheedled and pleaded from the shadows of the little bush.

  “Very well, Ward.” Shai muttered crossly at the shrub. “No funny business, mind ye. We’ll nae be aided by fomenting trouble with true believers. Such-like be unpredictable and oft times mad.”

  “I’ve met their kind before… a lot. Where I come from, there’s a slimy, crooked preacher in a shiny suit under every damp stone and rotten log.” He sighed warmly, as the large, handsome man wriggled out from beneath a twelve inch tall bush that even a small child would find impossible to hide in. “I speak their lingo.”

  “Ooo! I’ll go along to watch… Err… Supervise! I’ll bring my whole team, for safety and additional… supervision!” Amy nearly squeaked with pleasure at the idea of setting her uncle Ward on the light clerics.

  “I’m nae certain, Amy…” She shot a wary glance at Ward, who seemed eager to take on this task. Suspiciously eager, since he usually worked harder at avoiding actual work, than when doing anything productive.

  Some sixth sense drew Shai’s eye to the bridge, where Gary was approaching the gate, looking troubled and nervous.

  “Yes, handle this matter, I trust the two of ye to manage this mess… I’ll have the management of that silly man of mine. He’s not to hear of this task I’ve set you.”

  “We’ll take care of this… don’t you worry, mom.” The two marched off to find the rest of the Ragamuffins, eager to see what would come next. Too late, Shai realized; she hadn’t managed to extract any promise of secrecy from the two miscreants, before they escaped, giggling like idiots.

  With few good options, she forged ahead, taking the job before her in hand and leaving her other worries aside for later.

  “Gary… come with me… to the boat shed!” She called, as he approached, looking even more nervous and uncomfortable.

  Before long, the pair found themselves on the lake, motoring Seahorse out into deep waters, where the mountainside plunged into the lightless depths.

  “Husband…” She growled, once they were moored to a buoy at the utter edge of the family compound, under the craggy rock faces and steep escarpments. “Ye did make a promise to me… and did break it most fully.”

  With a silently raised finger, she forestalled his excuses and endless blather about the technical differences between a battle and good old fashioned street brawl.

  “Ye did keep yer word, right up to the end, when ye battled that gigantic idiot of a general.” Her eyes flashed as she spoke. “T’were foolish, dangerous and a breach of yer word to me… and was the damned sexiest thing I’ve seen in a long while!” A devilish smile cracked her stoney visage, as she laid the main bench back to form a soft and cosy bed.

  “Get yerself over her and show yer wife what a brave swordsman ye be!”

  /

  Hermit slipped down his dropline, into a dim, quiet burrow under a crag, behind a maze of thorn bushes and down a sheer cliff only a spider could scale, just to find a little peace and quiet.

  Here, across the narrows on the cliffside above the lake, he would be alone, untroubled by the sounds, scents and auras of the prey… people all around him. The constant and exciting activity of the in compound triggered prey drives and he constantly found himself stalking humans, by sheer instinct.

  They just looked and smelled so tasty… and so oblivious! Spiders cannot sigh, lacking any apparatus for the job, so he strummed a gentle minor chord from his harp of bones, silk, hide and sinew. With distaste, he settled in to ‘enjoy’ a meal of venom aged venison, in his craggy nest, alone.

  He reflected on recent days, to distract himself from the taste; since most terrestrial mammals were just nasty, while the birds and insects were too small to even consider.

  Outside the inn’s domain, on a mountain ledge abode a clear, deep lake, he contemplated the choices before him. Here, he could think, really think about what he was feeling about the smooth furred shining spider goddess who had been haunting his dreams.

  Long forgotten feelings and ideas bubbled to the surface as he considered his last interaction with her… When they were both in human form. “She is awfully sexy…” He mused after a good long meditation session. He amused himself briefly, strumming his thoughts idly on his enchanted voice. Gentle harp notes joined another sound, a slow, rhythmic sound and voices raised in passion.

  “Ohh my sweet Fool, drive harder lad! I know ye have it in ye!” A familiar, feminine voice cried from a small boat drifting on a buoy below his nest.

  “Oh, sweet webs of the ancestors…” He sighed weakly, as the little boat rocked and swayed on its mooring.