Book 3: Sound And Fury

  Chapter 32 Witch Hunt

  As the first rays of sunlight landed on the encampments, the sound of voices raised in song could be heard. Mostly male voices, praising the ‘sacred and blessed light’. The morning observances began, under the direction of a young woman in the immaculate white robe of an initiate priestess of the Temple of the Blessed Light?.

  The hymn was exactly what one would expect, praising the mercy, benevolence and goodness of their ‘god’ while reveling in verses about ‘crushing infidels’ and ‘flaying the unbelievers’.

  It was poorly written too, verse after verse full of hackneyed phrases, cliches and forced rhymes. Whoever wrote and arranged the awful hymn was no lover of music… The rhyme scheme came away so ragged and battered, Amy felt bad for the poor thing.

  Molly winced visibly, as the soldiers, knights and more than a few of the collared slaves leaned into the most cheesy and awkward stanzas, hammering on the crude rhymes and easy symbolism with actual pleasure.

  “Gross…” Amy sighed, while the light’s devotees waved their hands above their heads in the general vicinity of the awful song’s rhythm. Their ecstatic smiles and rapturous expressions were deeply unnerving, as they very obviously found some kind of value in the observances.

  Molly delivered a short sermon that felt really long, filled with the kind of mealy mouthed, ‘faith will sustain you’ and ‘god’s plan’ garbage that certain kinds of cults always give their adherents, instead of any actual help or advice. There were plenty of promises and much carping on about ‘Trusting in The Light’... That seemed to be a popular catchphrase for all sorts of things.

  When things wrapped up, the faithful went back to doing what prisoners do… waiting. They seemed a little less anxious and sulky at least. Molly departed her simple, storage crate lectern and rejoined her guards with a slight bow.

  “I have done my duty and you have fulfilled your promise to let me see my mother…” She left ‘now what?’ hanging unspoken on the air.

  “We have no explicit instructions, so you may choose. Will you return to the ‘chicken yard’ with the other priests…? Or we can keep you with us, if you fancy becoming an ‘infidel before the light’.” She shrugged and smiled at the young woman in the robes of her enemy.

  “Either way, you will remain our prisoner and under escort at all times, until your case is decided by our father.”

  “Your father?” She asked, weakly, as she started doing some serious thinking about these weird, uncanny kids.

  “Yeah… you remember him, the guy in the crawdaddie armor; the one in the cloud projection! That was super cool! We’re totally gonna win the next battle of the bands with uncle Ward’s jumbotron spell!” She enthused giddily.

  “That awful witch… Err… that man is your father?” She asked, as a knot of cold ice began forming in her belly. It bloomed into a huge, pointy iceberg lodged in her guts, as the man appeared in the flesh, standing not too very far away at all, looking at her with palpable hostility and suspicion.

  “Yup! He’s pretty tired from beating up a whole army and stealing all your poor slaves away; so it may be a little while before your case comes up.” She chirped with a smile of pure happiness on her dusky, pretty face. “I recommend becoming a filthy collaborator and infidel… We have better songs and also… Snacks!”

  “Her case is number one with a bullet, Amy.” Gary said quietly, from a few yards off.

  Amy leapt just a few inches straight up, while emitting a quiet yelp of dismay.

  “Oh, right! That awful song must have been… I mean… That hymn must have moved you, right, Papa?” She asked significantly, as she moved to stand between the huge, bland featured man and the target of his displeasure.

  “Yeah… I feel like Lee Greenwood barfed in my earhole. Now I really don’t like your cult. You even torment music itself!”

  Somehow, the awful man was able to be angry, amused, irritated, annoyed, furious, curious, bloodthirsty and calm… all at once. A raging tempest seemed to blow from him, without stirring the grass or anyone’s clothing.

  “Uh, um… ya see…” Amy faltered lamely. She recovered with a classic delaying tactic. “What had happened was…”

  “Who’s your friend? And where are your brothers?” He demanded very calmly, while his eyes raked at Molly’s soul like a badger in a termite mound, digging for her center, her essence and the truth, whatever that was.

  /

  Wilf, Rio and Frankie set their bikes down in a familiar, roadside clearing that overlooked the devastated woodland valley of battling monster bugs. Frankie, Maya, Barry and Lindsey rolled up shortly after, wheezing and exhausted. Flash trotted along looking quite pleased with himself and shining with a light sheen of sweat that plastered his mane to his neck. He cantered in place for a moment, before giving a shake that sprayed horsie sweat all over the gathered teens, followed by a giggling, snuffling burst of equine laughter.

  “You suck, mister gluepot!” Barry grumbled fondly at the horse, while the rest were less amused by his prank.

  Over the weeks since their last visit, the wreckage had become even more widespread and complete. The muddy, mucky, reeking pond at the foot of the clogged valley had become a foetid and slimy lake, covered with a thick scum of furry algae, while the upper end of the bottomlands was rife with bubbling mudsinks, toppled trees and the scattered remains of… something awful.

  “Is that the Isopod??” Frankie asked, eyeing the massive, scattered chitin plates and a few random legs. The enormous head of the thing, lying over by the shore of the filthy lake was a strong hint.

  “Looks like. I haven’t seen the dung beetle; the players may have changed.” Dannyl said quietly, stepping from the darkened woods with a grin on his handsome, ginger face.

  “Changed?” Wilf asked somberly.

  “Yeah, I’ve been up here watching this mess for a few days now… we don’t need any nasty surprises from this side, especially now.” He shook his head and sighed.

  “Those two big bois were never going to get out of this hole, but other things keep popping in from somewhere. We’ve had good luck so far, the two big bugs ate all the contenders before they could grow enough to challenge them.”

  “And now?” Wilf asked, eying the valley and woods around them with suspicion.

  “Something ate that rolly-polly and left very little behind. beetle-boy didn’t seem to be up to the job… and he’s missing entirely.” Dannyl looked over the small band of young people and grinned. “This is pretty much the team I was going to request for this investigation… since the rest of the Dreadnoughts are busy.”

  “What are you saying, uncle Dannyl?” Rio asked very carefully.

  “We’re going down there… very carefully. Or rather, I’m going down there and you kids are going to watch my back.” He nodded with satisfaction. “You brought your dad’s old flute, right Wilf? That’s why you kids came out here.”

  Asking Wilf was a dirty trick, so Frankie insubordinated his way in front of that pointed question.

  “I don’t know what you mean…” Frankie lied skillfully, with no obvious tells, but Dannyl was an expert in the craft. It didn’t help that Wilf was looking super shifty… and he had that damn flute in his hands.

  “You kids were going to try and control that dung beetle, weren’t you?” He asked with a knowing grin.

  “You were going to lead them out into the wastes, as part of some plan to clear the road to the dungeon mouth. Let me guess… We’ll march those prisoners onto Ace’s island and park them there?”

  “I was going to ride the dungbeetle into town, to intimidate them.” Wilf admitted. “Really, it just sounded awesome.”

  “You could do that?” Dannyl asked softly. “Really?”

  “With Frankie and Rio helping… yeah. Between the three of us, as long as we keep it fed and happy, we’d have total control of it.” Wilf answered with certainty.

  “All it needs to be happy is a big round ball to guard and plenty of shit to eat. We have a giant round boulder that needs guarding… and we have way too much shit.”

  “Shit?” Dannyl asked, his eyes still roving over the slowly lightening valley, seeking an answer. “Gary’s house never had trouble with that before. I thought he had some magic garden thing…”

  “Our privy system is having trouble with the input of output involved. Dad’s still unranked, but the house is copper rank… So he can’t process… We could really use a dungbeetle.”

  “Or a big patch of groundworms!” Rio offered.

  “Gross, kids.” Dannyl sighed. “I guess it’s not all magic baths and musical interludes in the Ward house.”

  “Mostly.” Barry grumbled. “It’s mostly magic baths and musical interludes. But shit does come up frequently.”

  “Fair enough, kid. Let’s see if we can find your dungbeetle.” Dannyl popped a silver ear cuff onto his lobe and waited a moment for the enspelled trinket to ‘pair’ as Gary called the process.

  A soft chime rang in his ear, announcing his entry into the mysterious ‘group-chat’ spell, one of the Ward family’s deepest secrets.

  Each little paired collar button and ear cuff, had a range of just over two miles, but if another was in range, he would have access to the ‘Blue-Tooth’ radius it projected… or something. Dannyl had learned long ago to avoid asking Gary any technical questions.

  Effectively, a widely dispersed group could remain in contact, so long as no one was no more than two miles from any other user…

  “I’m in… everybody hear me?” He mumbled into his collar. A soft murmur of replies whispered in his decorated ear, confirming the spell had taken hold.

  “Maya, you keep me in sight and watch my trail. Wilf, Left flank, Barry, right flank. Rio, watch our backtrail. Lindsey, you are in command, Frankie, you’re her second. No matter what happens, do not descend into the valley without my instructions. If I lose contact, bail out immediately and ride straight for home. Understood?”

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  It took longer than he liked to get a satisfactory ‘yes sir’ out of the team, but it was good enough.

  Dannyl took off his wide brimmed, fur felt hat and shook a net of fine metal links, silenced with braided spider silk from inside his hatband, to drape over his neck and shoulders. A veil of finely woven silver mesh and goggles made from the eyes of a terrifying spider creature and soft, wormhide leather finished his head protection. He already wore his triple knit spider silk armor suit, with reinforced plates of sculpted and enspelled haunted plumwood over his vitals, forearms and shins.

  A breast and back plate of stiffened, possessed sharkskin on wormhide straps guarded his torso.

  Lighter and tougher than boiled leather, while being harder to cut or pierce than steel plate armor, the young Adventurer didn’t care if it wasn’t in style… Even if his own god did constantly abuse him for it; calling him ‘Ranger Smith, from Jellystone Park’ and accusing him of ‘murdering style, and laying in wait for fashion’.

  “I’d rather fashion die a grisly death, than me.” He muttered, as he double checked his gear for the third time.

  “You ok, uncle Dannyl?” Wilf asked, since he’d also checked his uncle’s armor and gear, just a moment ago.

  “Yeah, just psyching myself up… Could be anything down there… and it’s unlikely to be friendly.”

  “Wilf and I could go with you.” Rio murmured quietly. “We’re ready.”

  “I know, kids. I get it, but if your mom and dad found out, they would make me wear my ass as a hat… Complete with a jaunty feather in the crease.”

  With that, the small, slim man vanished down the trail and out of sight, until he reappeared, several hundred yards below on the lower foothills, moving stealthily.

  “Why am I in command..?” She wondered, when the officer had vanished down the steep, slick trail to the valley floor.

  “Cause none of the Wards ever follow orders properly.” Maya declared with certainty. Wilf opened his mouth to protest, but the boy was incapable of lying. He also had a terrifyingly huge crossbow out, mounted to a blocky wooden pedestal; suggesting that he wasn’t interested in following orders, as such.

  It was going to be a few minutes while the older Adventurer navigated the tricky descent, leaving teenaged boys largely unsupervised in the woods. Naturally, something stupid jumped off

  “What did you filch?” Frankie asked eagerly, while continuing to scan his designated section.

  “Lotasa stuff, all sorts..” Wilf announced proudly. “Didn’t filch them. We checked them out of the armory.” The big lad grinned in a slightly mad way that made Lindsey nervous, but excited the others.

  “We’re off restriction, gang. The candy-store is open and we have all the goodies. Area effect, lethal and non lethal, crowd control, some real heavy hitters and a few nasty surprises. Even some things dad was not happy to see us take out.”

  “ThunderStruck?” Frankie asked hopefully.

  Nope… That one was super special. Dad needs a good bit of pure sodium and a gryphon feather for that. Risky to craft and dangerous to store.” Wilf grumbled. “That was a good one, though.”

  “Stop moaning about what we don’t have. Wilf’s got a couple Crocxidizers, a handful of Bloodblight thorn arrows and a bunch of Bristlecone shafts.” Rio interrupted. “I took some random javelins and that crazy pink lance.”

  “No grenades?” Franky and Maya asked in tandem.

  “Dude… of course we took a bunch. Even a few experimental projects that look… terrifying.” Rio scoffed at the pair.

  “We got you a full poison kit, Maya. The good stuff, from my uncle Jocomo. Dad’s are always non lethal, but uncle Joco is less concerned with the niceties.” Wilf rumbled, sounding pleased, as he sorted out his huge weapon and got it ready to fire.

  “Uh…” Lindsey began, haltingly. “Does your uncle Dannyl know you have all those exotic toys? Cause that seems like something he should know, before he hangs his whole ass out on the line.”

  “Ok, I guess now we know why Lindsey is in charge.” Wilf declared with finality.

  /

  A half hour later, in a pleasant vale a mile or so off, the kids had their camp set up. Wilf’s house stood on a small garden plot, all alone beside a hot spring pool that bubbled behind a thorny hedge.

  Dannyl was on the lawn, gleefully going over the dizzying array of dangerous and truly odd things the boys had brought, hidden in their mysterious storage gifts. There were bundles of crossbow bolts and arrows, marked with obscure writings and glyphs; as well as small, carefully crafted cases containing a single shaft, often made of some strange material or inlaid with ominous runes.

  A few box quivers bristled with fletched, short javelins in a rainbow of colors, each one signifying some dangerous or strange enchantment wound through the weapons.

  There also were a few light throwing spears made of some kind of bone and a single long, heavy lance that glowed an ominous pink and sputtered fitfully with sparks.

  Flash found that last weapon irresistable, for some reason; her silly horse constantly nudged and nuzzled Lindsey toward the terrifying thing.

  “Look here, Fly-Feast… just because that horrid thing is pink…” She scolded the silly goofball, when he once again tried to push her toward the awful weapon.

  “What is that, anyway?” Frankie asked, eyeing the sinister thing suspiciously.

  “The label says ‘#FF6EFF’ and that’s it.” Rio sighed. “Pops said I should take it with the rest.”

  The tall, lean young man took the weapon up and ran a few practice moves with it, wielding it as a spear. “Feels ordinary… Heavy, but pretty well balanced. The glow and sparks do nothing. At least as far as I can tell.” He shrugged.

  “Dad made that a year ago, when he was having one of his crafty fits… I don’t think even he knows what it is.” Wilf grinned at Lindsey and chuckled. “Your horse thinks it’s for you.”

  Sure enough, Flash was once again nudging her toward the weapon in Rio’s hands. “I don’t even like pink that much!” Lindsey insisted, while her familiar bullied her along.

  “Gods above and below, all right…!” She gasped, when Flash toppled her into Barry’s arms with a swing of his head.

  Surrendering to the inevitable, Lindsey swatted her horse gently in the nose and turned to the tall warrior holding the absolutely, fabulously, feminine lady’s lovely lance.

  “Gods… The gaudy thing! It’d look right at home if I were a pretty, pretty princess, astride one of Eponna’s ponies!” She complained, while the boys shared raised eyebrows and subtle nods.

  “I hate to break it to you, Lin… You are awfully pretty, and that’s one of Eponna’s lovely ponies, right there.” Rio muttered, as he held out the weapon with a smile.

  “If the clown-shoes fit, wear ‘em.”

  “I hate the Wards…” She sighed without conviction, as she took the sparking shaft of lambent pink, glowing wood in her hand...

  The sparks just stopped… There was no sound or fading of the light, nor did the thing shift colors. The instant Lindsey’s hand closed around the weapon, it became a lance shaped rod of dull black, porous and clay-like material.

  After a few heartbeats of confused staring at the thing, it began to crumble away to dust, leaving an eight foot long, slim rod of pale blonde, tight grained wood, tipped with a slim, slightly wavy, leaf shaped point and a round butt cap. The point was balanced by a sparkling orb of some dark, pearlescent material, securely tangled in the stylized roots of a tree, depicted in hammered bronze.

  Flash snorted with self satisfied pleasure and nuzzled his slender rider’s neck from behind. “See? Swift, wise and sure of foot, Eponna herself caused the ShadowMounted to craft that for my rider… for you!” Flash whickered merrily and gave a shiver all over.

  “Though, I suppose no one, not even wise and mighty Eponna knew who would be my rider at the time…” The silly horse chuckled and capered in delight.

  “No matter! Eponna’s SkyLance has been created anew, and is yours now!” He released a loud, whinnying challenge to the mountains

  “Sweet Eponna’s mane, I love the Wards!”

  “You guys give me a headache…” Lindsey sighed. “I’m taking a nap. We rode all night, after all.”

  “Shit!? Really? Gods, kids… Tell me this kind of stuff! Complain and bitch about getting dragooned into my project without any rest… Like proper Adventurer scum!” Dannyl grumbled.

  “Now I feel like an evil taskmaster… Pack it in and button this place down, Wilf. We’re sacking out until tomorrow. Send one of your clay birdies down the mountain to let them know what we’re up to.”

  Dannyl stomped inside and dumped his gear in the spare room, before heading to the baths, still griping about: “These Kids Today…”

  “The awesome Kaiju battle is over?” Gary grumbled, as he was working out after breakfast.

  “Man… I was hoping to start Kree’s Adventuring career with a big one.”

  “Ye defeated a demon haunted general in single combat. Know when to say enough.” Shai sighed, as she polished her practice swords. Exact duplicates of her favored pair of sabres in weight, balance, reach and responsiveness… They were the next best thing to keen steel and singing brass.

  Poor Gary was sprawled on the lawn, battered, sweaty and smiling. “I almost scored a touch on you…” His hand still held a padded staff, designed to safely duplicate his preferred weapon, even though he had zero chance of actually standing up for a few minutes.

  “Aye, so tonight I shall ‘almost’ touch you…” She scoffed gently, her saucy wink and playful giggle betraying her words. “If we start counting near misses, I’ll be missing… when ye come to spar with me tonight!”

  “Cruel temptress…” The battered pile of rags cluttering up her fine lawn mumbled, as he stirred and struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff.

  She swept in and kissed him as she passed by, graceful and swift as a darting swallow. “Go wash up. I’ll join thee presently.” A swat to his rump sent him on his way, while Shai collected the little clay birdie on her finger.

  “Sing it softly, little one. Your master would rest.” She whispered to the tiny golem perched on her finger.

  /

  At lunch, Gary glared at all the kids currently at the table, mostly Amy. “Ride a giant dungbeetle into town… That sounds like Wilf’s idea.”

  “He does like brute force solutions that elegantly solve additional problems… Like the sewage problem.” Amy answered calmly, facing her father with complete composure.

  “You’re ok for now, but things could get… grim if we don’t… Lighten the load!” She giggled at her own double entendre and sighed. “We’re not little kids anymore, pops.”

  “You’re still little.” He complained weakly.

  “Nope, you’re just weirdly huge.” She chirped merrily.

  “All right, then. I have a job for you. Bring me this lord Sourport dude. Safely, securely, handle him like a kettle of hot fat. Slippery, dangerous and likely to catch fire.” Gary grumbled.

  “Assemble a whole team and bring one of your uncles or aunties if you can. I want to talk to this clown in private before I start making decisions.” He sighed sadly.

  “My wife says I’m not allowed to visit her ‘chicken ranch’ or whatever… Heh, ‘The Chicken Ranch…’ I like that, for no particular reason…” He said with a familiar smile that always meant he’d found something hilarious, but wasn’t sharing.

  “I’m not missing much, I suppose…” He began to sing in a soft, fond tone.

  It's just a little bitty pissant country place,

  Ain't nothing much to see…

  “Nope, I’m not gonna bite, dad.” Amy scoffed, shutting him down, before he could even get started.

  “No fair… I’m just trying to get my mojo flowing again…” He mumbled.

  “Well, go visit those poor schmucks in collars…” She suggested offhandedly. “You can really cut loose and no one will mind. They would appreciate the exercise and entertainment.”

  “They’re people, Ames… I’m trying to give them what autonomy I can right now, even though they’d probably prefer if I did order them around.” He whined weakly and shifted in his soft, linen shirt as though it were made of steel wool and barbed wire.

  “Nae… Amy makes sense! Prepare yerself, lad. Yer doing a solo show, with the whole shadow band! Aye, and in full daylight, under the sun’s gaze… That will get things moving in a better direction for a while, at least.!” Shai enthused.

  “Just thee, thy gifts and these poor people already in your thrall. With your natural gifts flowing again, ye’ll likely dance the poor things to an early bedtime.”

  “I never thought of it that way…” He mumbled, feeling embarrassed and way more Foolish than he had in a while… It felt exactly like finally taking off a pair of worn out boots after a long day’s walk. Or perhaps this was the feeling of his entire being, taking a much needed whizz in a roadside bush.

  “I’m an idiot… Thousands and thousands of disparate emotions, fears and hopes are curdling my shadow because I despise the idea of holding people in bondage.” He grimaced with discomfort, as he thought about the phenomenon, which brought it all rushing to the forefront of his mind.

  “I loathe the way they accept it… because of magical manipulation and fuckery, which makes it worse, ‘cause the spells and enchantments involved are anathema to me… Yet they are not too far removed from what I do naturally.”

  “Shut yer yawp, lad.” Shai sighed as she took him by the collar. “Tis my turn to play dress up dolly!” She sassed, while dragging him to their chambers upstairs.

  Half an hour later, the musical instruments in the shop stopped vibrating with barely restrained music.. After the bone flute on the wall beside the cashbox sang a sweet and trilling bar or two of ecstatic ‘Ode to Joy’, all by itself. Gary and Shai emerged twenty minutes after that embarrassing and amusing interlude, looking flushed and pleased with themselves.

  It was a long and uncomfortable twenty minutes, in which Harry gleefully explained to Gandree and Daisybelle exactly why the instruments had been behaving so oddly.

  “Oh! We should try that!” Daze enthused, bobbing her head in agreement, which was also very suggestive, as she intended.

  “Gotta mimic playing with the balls…” Becky opined, with a thoughtful look on her face. “It completes the illusion.”

  Daisybelle spent a few long seconds perfecting her elaborate, enthusiastic, sloppy, imaginary butthole fingering display of erotic mime, while Gandree tried to die on the spot, with little success.

  Shai nodded with approval, then went on to make some suggestions and offered a number of salient points.

  “Oh… Yub yub! Good notes, thanks auntie-queen Shai! Queen Sabbie says I should study under second queen Chelsea when we get home… She has magic mouth!”

  Daisybelle winked and chuckled with evil glee, her long, pointed tongue lolling out with excitement. “Secret techniques! Come, Gandree boy… I show you why they call us ‘Goblins’! She grinned lasciviously as she hauled her boy away toward the waterside, where his home stood, now that Wilf’s was gone.

  /

  “Wow… that’s a lot…” Gary sighed, looking out on the vast and chaotic camps. Not that they were disorderly, they just swarmed with people. They milled about, dressed in clothes of undyed homespun, polka dots, stripes and a mind bending array of prints, colors and textures.

  Gary’s stocks and stores had been plundered quite thoroughly, as had the rest of the town, to clothe and feed so many with so little preparation. The fine pavilions of the lords were living their best lives now too, as shirts, undershorts and other intimate apparel, since silk tents were stupid.

  From a low rise, he looked out on the mob, milling like colorful ants in his yard. “Yeah… This could work.” He mumbled. “Feels like a really shitty renfaire, or maybe a depressed, drug-free burning man. What kind of setlist, though…?”

  “I’d suggest a dance… but there be a minor wrinkle in that thought.” Shai muttered, eyeing the crowd through her own unique perspective.

  “Oh, yeah! It’s all dudes! This is a total sausage fest!” Gary cried at last, when he realized the obvious. He began a loud, jarring guitar chord, from an instrument he plucked from his own mysterious storage gift, as he once could, so long ago.

  He began to walk down the slope. “No women? No problem, love… I’ve seen this before.” Dim, flickering figures began to step from his shadow as he walked, swift and barely seen. They flew, faster than darting sparrows, dashing from shadow to shadow, spreading through the camps.

  His instrument was soon joined by others, raising a potent and howling noise. Crashing drums and a warbling, melodious cry in a startling minor key began to rise from the encampment, as the shadowy figures infiltrated the place, lurking in every dim and unseen place.

  “Relax babe, head home. This is boys time… It’s just a typical Rush show.”

  A modern-day warrior,

  Mean mean stride…

  Today’s Tom Sawyer,

  Mean mean pride…

  /