Book 3: Sound And Fury

  Chapter 30 Roxanne

  In the comfortable dimness of Wilf’s common room, a dwarf, a goblin and several young humans were seated and silently listening to a young woman in a bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel as she spoke. A soft, hesitant voice that barely carried around the room held every ear.

  “My mother was captured and sold as a pleasure slave when she was barely twelve… She never speaks of her life before.” Molly whispered.

  “She was bought by a cruel, powerful man and became his favorite toy; she remains his property and is the shackle that binds me into his service. Which is exactly why I was granted my ‘freedom’ and sent to seminary. It also entertains him to force me to serve his cult of false light.”

  Silence fell for a moment, as everyone breathed through that for a while.

  “The collar of enslavement makes even suicide impossible, through it’s magic. When I was born a girl child of a slave, my mother, she begged the midwife to cut her throat and mine, as a mercy.” She shuddered, and continued, her voice growing slightly stronger. “Mercy does not exist in the house of cardinal Stourbridge.”

  After a deep breath, Molly spoke again, breaking the silence. “She begged my father, the cardinal, that he might not sell me away. He granted her request, by making me his new entertainment, it amused him to scar my body daily, in new and creative ways, destroying my value on the slave market, while my mother was forced to watch.” She smiled very weakly.

  “That was his way of granting her a boon. As I said, mercy does not exist in the cardinal’s house.”

  /

  “Sally, mother of Molly! Step forward!” The goblin warrior maiden called from the open gate as breakfast finished on the fourth morning after the mysterious, mad ‘battle’ and being taken to the realm of the goblin king and his wives.

  “I said, Sally, mother of Molly! Step forward!” The warrior in dark maroon and black called again.

  “You are summoned by king Ghnash, you must respond!” She shouted, growing agitated.

  “I’m Sally…” She murmured softly from a distant corner of the expansive ‘slave pen’ encampment.

  Sharp little goblin ears heard, even so soft an utterance, as the little nightmare marched over, her steps crisp and precise in a strict military cadence. She strode over, her black patent leather cap and silvery silk braid shining in the sun.

  “I’m Jenny, number eight six seven five three oh nine. Follow me please, I am to take you to see the king. You will not be harmed.” She snapped a crisp salute and nodded. “Are you ready? Do you have any personal effects to gather? You may or may not be returning here… unless you wish to.”

  “Have you seen my daughter, Molly? Is she well?” Sally asked desperately, ignoring the warrior’s question.

  “I’m told she is fine… Once you see the king, you may be taken to see her… Do you have any goods or items to retrieve? We must move briskly.” The pale green young woman insisted gently.

  “I have nothing, the garments I arrived in are rags now. I have only these things your people gave me.” She murmured weakly, while adjusting her simple bodice and skirts of common cloth. “Hardly fitting to meet a king, even a goblin king.”

  “King Ghnash may well have sewn those clothes himself, or perhaps one of his wives. His majesty is the finest tailor in town and is unstinting in his generosity. Every citizen has been called on to employ their skills to supply your cohort, even his majesty, his wives and daughters.” She said, as they marched through the town to the single spire of stone, on which the ‘castle’ stood.

  The human and nonhuman residents of the town were uniformly friendly, gentle, accepting and kind… They were also in awe of their king, constantly praising; ‘Mighty Ghnash’ or ‘His Sublime Majesty’ in fulsome terms as Jenny passed with her silent, nervous charge.

  In contrast, the goblins all referred to their ruler as ‘king papa’ and casually claimed to be either his daughters or wives. Of male goblins there was no sign, anywhere.

  Sally halted at the top of the long slope that led to the much vaunted ‘castle’, above the town. To be fair, it was situated atop a spire of stone, looming over the forested domain and was definitely the finest structure in the area.

  Every resident of the town insisted it was a castle…

  But it was an inn. Homey, tile roofed, with a high, river stone foundation and plastered walls. Cheery window boxes held flowering vines and ivy climbed the walls in a most picturesque manner.

  Those windows looked out on a most extraordinary garden, wide, green, abundant and beautiful. Beds of herbs, flowers and vegetables were flanked by orchard rows of fruit trees, berry vines, arbors of melons, squash and gourds; it went on and on, covering the wide hilltop.

  Near the inn itself, a hot spring gushed steaming, green tinted water into a wide, stone ringed pool that teemed with goblin women and their children.

  Dozens of women and hundreds of tiny, green munchkins frolicked in the waters, kicking up a noisy, joyful ruckus that made the place feel even more homey… So long as one ignored the fact that these were goblins, playing and splashing so merrily.

  “Come, we go to the private bath. We have not yet been able to bring the others here to bathe in the healing waters, yet. They will be brought here soon. You will bathe, queen Sabrina awaits you there, then you see king papa.”

  Jenny spoke quickly and crisply, like she did everything, but she was not brusque or harsh, simply briskly efficient. “Fresh clothing will be provided, you have no cause for concern. King papa is no common goblin man.”

  She led her through a gap in the hedges, into a much smaller pool, surrounded by bamboo and flowering ginger. There two goblin women waited, the tall, slim, elegant, gray-green queen, Sabrina, already unclothed and in the pool. With her waited a smaller, blue eyed, pink haired, bright green, curvaceous and chubby girl, who waved with a cheerful giggle.

  “Hello human. I’m Chelsea!” She chirped in a high, bubbly voice of pure energy and mirth. “King Ghnash said to make you welcome, so we’re here to help you bathe and dress! I’m the new queen!”

  The taller woman’s slender hand shot out, gripping the smaller creature by her long, pointed ear and twisting gently. “Chelsea is second queen, not new queen. Remember little one!” Sabrina smiled and beckoned to the woman, still shyly standing where Jenny had left her with only a silent bow to the bathing royalty.

  “Come, disrobe, join us. We speak as women do, then you meet the king.”

  “Yub yub! But no seducing king-majesty! His babymaker is nub for humans!” Chelsea insisted firmly. “Off limits!”

  Sabrina’s hand found the little gobbo’s ear again, twisting with a touch more vigor this time. “Mistress Sally is nub interested in king Ghnash’s mighty babystick... “ She shrugged and smiled at Sally warmly, as if at a foolish child. “To each her own…”

  “Hmph! She doesn’t know what she’s missing, then…” The smiling green lass sang sweetly. “Let me tell you all about it! So so thick, juicy and veiny… and the balls! The way they swing and bobble…!”

  “Chelsea, go lay out the selection of clothing we have for mistress Sally.” Sabrina chided her gently. “Too much hot water is nub good, when you are babyful!”

  “Oh, no!” The green damsel gasped, as she scurried out of the water and ran off, dripping and nude.

  “Ahh, now we can speak in peace… forgive Chelsea, please. She is new to the tribe and is my babysister. We bear the king’s first sons within us… The hope for a better future for us all.” Sabrina purred, her hands resting on a faint swelling around her middle. “A son for my king… at last.” She sighed, a smile of radiant joy on her face.

  “Enough, come to me, child, enter the pool and be cleansed. The queen spoke firmly, as she drew Sally deeper into the hot water by her hand.

  “Have no fear. This is a place of safety and healing. King Ghnash has Willed it so, and so it is.”

  “Y… your majesty…” Sally whispered eventually, her eyes downcast. “You know I am a slave… Yes? Even though my collar is gone, I feel the curse of bondage, still grinding at my heart…”

  “I know nothing of the sort, Sally. There are no slaves in this kingdom, king Ghnash so decrees. Only the sugar wasps keep slaves… They are a special case.” Sabrina murmured gently.

  “You are no longer a slave, that was ordained the moment sweet princess Daisybelle agreed to take you in her hands. What you feel is simply worry for your child, taken far from your side against your will. The magic of king Ghnash’s terrible brother dissolved those wicked curses, or so my husband says. He is never wrong in these things.” She smiled warmly at the fearful woman.

  “You are a citizen of GoblinHome, should you wish to remain, or when you return.”

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  “Is your king very wise?” She whispered, her breath barely stirring the steamy air.

  “Wise?” The queen scoffed, snorting through her nose as she laughed merrily. “Nub nub! Not wise at all! King Ghnash is mighty, fierce, terrible and brave… He works big mojo, protects the sacred land and all her peoples. But never has he been wise.”

  The queen smiled warmly and pulled Sally close to her diminutive bosom for a long, lingering hug. “Justice, he holds justice above all else… So perhaps there is a wisdom of a kind, hidden somewhere within him.” She shrugged again, without relenting in her warm, matronly hug.

  The queen released Sally after a timeless moment and returned with a soapy sponge in her hand. “Now, let me work, you must meet the king and then you have a decision to make.”

  “A decision?” Sally asked, while being gently scrubbed down and rinsed by the gentle and elegant goblin queen.

  “Oh, yes…” Sabrina cooed, with her fingers knuckle deep in Sally’s hair, carefully massaging her scalp with some fragrant emollient or oil. “You must decide whether to leave this place of safety, to go see light priestess Molly, who claims to be your daughter.”

  “I don’t understand…?” Sally managed to say, through a fluffy, warm towel of truly remarkable softness and fragrance.

  “This priestess Molly claims to be your daughter and demands to see you. We mistrust all light cultists as a policy, hence we must ask if you wish to see her and what conditions you place on such a meeting… This is all I know. The king will discuss all of this with you.”

  “I do wish to see her… unconditionally… please, take me to her… Is she safe? Truly?” She stammered in a rush, clutching at the queen’s shoulders in sudden desperation.

  “She is as safe as can be… My king’s brother holds her prisoner. He is a mad and mighty witch, but kind, I think.” Sabrina paused, a slim finger tapping her gray green chin thoughtfully.

  “That did not sound as reassuring as I had hoped…” She smiled wanly and shrugged again. “Come, we must dress. The king awaits!”

  The next few minutes flew by in a mad whirl… Sabrina and Chelsea dressed her, then they undressed her. Then the two goblin women settled down with bone needles and sharp stone knives to make alterations to the garments.

  They worked with a speed and skill that any dressmaker in any town would find impressive and then dressed her again, fitted better than any clothing she had ever worn in her life.

  A simple dress of white, striped with pale green and a brown leather bodice laced with shining silver spider silk braid felt simply divine, while the two goblin women applied cosmetics to her face and dressed her hair.

  A garland of tiny pink rosebuds woven in her tresses made her feel like a character in a fairytale, until the two women led her into the audience chamber.

  The high, raftered chamber felt cold and empty, compared to the warm, welcoming baths and dressing rooms. The river stone walls and high ceiling lent an air of primitive splendor to the half naked savage seated on a throne carved from the skull of some great beast.

  More skulls, many hideously deformed or so alien as to be unrecognizable, stood in stands or on shelves, tanned monster hides and mounted heads of terrible creatures leered from the upper reaches of the chamber, while captured armor and weapons gleamed in polished splendor behind the throne.

  Dressed in leather breeches and a strand of elaborately carved knucklebone beads, the king had his flint tipped spear across his lap and a crown of colorful feathers atop his head in an obvious attempt to compensate for his diminutive stature.

  Strangely handsome in an oddly compelling way, the king’s eyes were huge, dark, deep set and feral, behind his long beak of a nose. Wild black hair erupted from beneath his crown, cut short, but unruly and crazy. The creature rippled with corded muscle, while his every move suggested a predator’s effortless grace held in careful restraint and balance.

  The nasal bridge and upper mandible of the skull throne were missing, creating space for a cozy nest of brocade cushions and silken draperies. Chelsea and Sabrina abandoned Sally and joined their king in his macabre seat, curling up to his body with unabashed delight

  His short, muscular legs dangled over the gaping jaw of whatever monstrous humanoid once owned that enormous headbone.

  “Be welcome, Sally.” He intoned, his voice was educated and clear, almost scholarly as he waved her to a chair beside the unlit fireplace. “Has your treatment been satisfactory?”

  “Very satisfactory, your majesty.” She whispered meekly.

  “Excellent. Now… Do you recognise this woman?” The king held up a scroll bearing a remarkable likeness of her own daughter, drawn in a few black lines and a smudge or two.

  “That is Molly, my daughter, your majesty… please, let me see her… I’ll do anything…” Sally gasped, slumping from her chair to kneel at the king’s feet. “Even… Even if I must…”

  “Oh, crap…” The king grumbled, sounding slightly annoyed, amused and embarrassed, all at once. He spoke in a soft, slightly lyric accent and in a higher pitch, as he gently scolded his wives.

  “I told you I should meet her in the garden, in common clothes…” He chided the two women curled up in his throne. “The whole ‘noble savage’ cosplay was just for you two perverts, wasn’t it?”

  The king arose from his seat, vanishing the menacing spear, decorated with bone fetishes and small skulls with a careless wave, the huge strand of beads followed into some unknown place. The king pulled a green linen robe out of nowhere, draped it over his bare, muscular chest and smiled at the woman on the floor.

  “Sorry about that… My wives are just awful.” His strong, calloused, workman’s hand took Sally’s as he gently helped her up from the floor with a firm, insistent grip. “They said you would respond to…” He waved his broad, green hand to indicate the savage splendors and skull throne.

  “I keep Gegrach the destroyer’s skull to impress the rubes. He was an idiot, literally, there’s not enough room in his braincase, that’s why I have to sit in his mouth.”

  He smiled a crooked, mad grin at her and sighed. “Just call me Ghnash… I’ll take you to your daughter myself… My foolish, silly wives will have to await my return to receive their punishment.”

  “Please, your majesty… they have been so kind…” Sally began, confused and upset by this mercurial being. She fell silent when she noticed the giggles and smiles of delight on the two goblin women’s faces at the king’s dire threat of ‘punishment’.

  “Oh, I see…” She muttered, feeling even more embarrassed.

  “Don’t mind their kinks… Come along. We have some small journey to make. My brother expects us by mid-day and the hours do not quite match up between his realm and mine…” Ghnash grumbled, while shooting heated glances at the unrepentant, giggling goblin wives.

  The goblin king stepped behind a screen for a moment, a pretty, painted screen depicting some kind of slender, long necked waterbirds, flying and fishing in a wide, reedy stream. The painting was in black ink strokes almost entirely, with only a few dabs of blue, red and green that caused the image to leap to life, much as the sketch of Molly’s face had.

  Distracted by the elegant screen, she took a moment to realize that the goblin man was now dressed in the manner of a prosperous human artisan.

  He smiled up at her, dressed in brown linen trousers, held up by a bright green sash. A soft cotton shirt embroidered with twining blackberry vines, resplendent in blossoms and ripe fruit, stitched just as artfully as those lovely paintings wrapped his torso, displaying his fit and muscular form.

  The plump, blackly purple berries looked almost juicy dangling from those vines among pretty, pale pink blossoms.

  He winked, plopped a soft, wide brimmed straw hat on his head and slipped a pair of goggles with smoked glass lenses over his huge, dark eyes.

  “Ready for a stroll, mistress Sally?” He asked, holding his strong, green hand out for her gallantly, as though he were a human being and this were anything but complete insanity. The king ignored her hesitation, took her hand in his and led the trembling woman out into the woods.

  “I understand your reaction, I really do, Sally. Goblin men have a well earned reputation for being absolute monsters.” He smiled sadly as they walked and he talked, his rhythmic, calm voice seeming to sooth her nerves.

  “Here’s the dirty secret the cult never told you, I bet: The cult of light captured the goblin homeworld, the place from which all goblins sprang, many, many centuries ago. They worked long and hard, cursing all goblin-kind in their blood and bones, with dark arts, demonic interference and endless ritual sacrifices of our children.” The brief silence that followed felt almost too long.

  “Sound familiar? Slavery and bondage is all the cult’s demon leaders know.” He chuckled darkly and sighed. “The cult itself made goblin men into the beasts they have become, to enslave and use us as living weapons of war. They failed miserably, because they made us too too awful for even the cult to abide or control.”

  “Is that.. True?” Sally whispered weakly.

  “You have seen the cult’s works, you feel in your heart that I speak true, why ask?” He demanded gently. “I and my brothers have been long searching for ways and means to undo what the light cult has done, on this and many other worlds. Finally, we have found an answer to ‘the goblin problem’ as you humans like to say…”

  He laughed with unalloyed glee as he released her hand and drew a small stringed musical instrument from nowhere she could see. “A Final Solution, as it were.” He giggled.

  “I don’t understand…” She mumbled, feeling strangely at ease with the bizarre monster man.

  “Goblin girls never fell to the curses, they were not seen as important so they were only tortured, sacrificed and enslaved. My gods, SmartyPants, Spiderboobs, Smileyface and HippoHead broke my curses, freeing my seed to sprout and grow.” He sighed in utter delight.

  “My queens are babyful of my princes… Soon there will be goblin men to seed goblin women and produce untainted children, free from curses and blights, without wicked urges and dark things whispering in their minds.”

  “They mentioned that… I had no idea…” She whispered softly. “They must be overflowing with joy, I suppose.”

  “Ahh, you have no faith in gods, because you have only ever seen the false one…” Ghnash murmured just as gently. “I think lady SmileyFace might just kiss you, once we are in a place where she can see. Yes, I sense that is so… Prepare yourself, we shall cross the veil soon. Hold my hand and do not fear.”

  /

  “Oh, yeah… Keep papa away from all those priests…” Amy whispered in her mother’s ear from the cozy common room. “They’re absolute trash. I can’t even… Just keep him far away from those turds, or he’ll go full murder-hobo on them.”

  “Aye, daughter… He will be busy all day, I shall see to it.” Shai muttered, with her eyes on her oblivious husband, who was busily making churros in the kitchen. “Do what ye think needful to keep matters contained, daughter… So long as ye keep yer brothers safe, I trust yer judgement.”

  “Thanks, mom… I gotta sign off. Work to do.” The soft magical voice whispered fondly.

  “You and Amy have been whispering all day… Is something up?” He asked, looking tired and a little worn, but far better than the day before.

  “Aye. And tis a matter that is nae for thee. Ye must take it easy and be mindful of yer health.” Shai warned him firmly. “Tis a mighty strain, having all those poor folk stuck in yer thrall. I feel it as well.”

  “I guess the cult kept it to five hundred sla…” He paused for an uncomfortable looking, sour belch and a bout of mild nausea. “Ugh… Gross. Anyway, I guess five hundred slaves per overseer was the maximum for a reason. I feel like shit.”

  “What about these awful collars? I thought they helped?” Tallum asked, from behind the tray of coarse sugar and finely ground cinnamon he was dredging hot churros through. He tipped his head to display the band of elaborately embroidered black chamois leather he and all the others wore.

  “They take a slice of the burden off my Animus… But the tricks and spells I used to steal control are shadow magic based. Most people can’t churn and expand their shadow the way I do; the collars are not as much help as I’d hoped… not even close. I’m stuck with most of the load, til I can cut these folks loose and get a really good tan.”

  “So turn them loose.” Mariah muttered sourly from her seat on an open cabinet door. “They make you feel ookie and gross!”

  “Honeybush, If i just released them; hundreds of people might die or get injured in the chaos, maybe more.” He murmured to the little dryad girl.

  “Mortals get hurt and die all the time.” She shrugged, utterly unable to comprehend.

  Kree buzzed softly and tousled her little sister’s hair. “All of those people are angry, scared, confused and far from home with no options.” She hummed in her sweet, buzzing voice.

  “Slaves need guidance, to be fed, clothed, cared for and groomed. They die or become problematic, if simply turned out into the wilds.”

  “You’re missing a big part of the whole point, girls.” Gary sighed, as he squeezed a fresh batch of bright yellow dough through his mechanical churro press, to gently splash down into the fryer as his bronze knife clipped the sticky stuff into seven inch lengths of ridged, doughy goodness.

  “Ghnash is way more experienced with these problems, but he’s already taken more than a thousand of the… I don’t want to say they’re ‘the worst cases’…” He shrugged helplessly, once more feeling like a total asshole and unsure exactly why.

  “Ugh… I hate every bit of this whole situation.”

  /

  Team Ragamuffin, Daisybelle, Gandree and Becky all sat in silence for a few long seconds, after Molly finished sketching out her dark tale with minimal detail and much difficulty.

  “Well… Fuck.” Ward grumbled, breaking the stillness. “Are you still willing to…” He waved his hands about, indicating mumbo jumbo and nonsense.

  “Yes… I care not for the empty rituals. I perform them when I must.” She replied. “The ‘faith’ helps keep civic order, at least. That must alleviate some suffering, somewhere, I assume.”

  “I suppose it’s a glass half full type of thing…” Wilf grumbled sourly. “Too bad it’s half full of shit and topped off with a dose of piss.”

  Molly opened her mouth to deliver a retort of some kind and just let her jaw gape slackly instead. At the door stood her mother, neatly dressed in simple, fine clothes; holding hands with a small green monster man, who smiled and waved.

  “Hiya, I’m Ghnash, the goblin king... I brought a visitor.”

  /