Book: 4

  Chapter 4

  Cool It Now

  “So a confluence of divine, fey and arcane forces aligned here, on my little patch of heaven and kinda…” King Ghnash waggled his long, taloned, green fingers about in a way that suggested the mysterious and ineffable, while being less than effable in his own right.

  “Sex-plosion.” Gary offered helpfully, from the gathered family members and friends old and new, human and otherwise, in the garden, at brunch.

  “Thanks, I forget how good you are at naming stuff!” The king declared, sealing the royal decree with a few puffs on his pipe. That the rest of the group groaned and begged for mercy was unimportant in his majesty’s realm. “Long live the king!” He announced, drawing cheers and cries for the king’s continued good health and wise rule from his many wives and daughters, scattered all around.

  “So you all had super sexy and deeply erotic dreams, which is totally cool and nothing to be embarrassed about… Even if you weren’t sleeping at ground-zero during a sex-plosion event.” He nodded sagely and puffed another grey cloud from his lungs.

  “Sexy dreams are just a natural part of growing up, kids, like the changes your bodies go through… has Gary had ‘the talk’ with you kids, yet?”

  More groans and moans lifted from his audience, but… “This is a dictatorship, sorry.”

  “He’s worse than Falco…” Amy sighed, as Ghnash went on and on, while Gary grinned and nodded like an enormous Fool.

  Gandree was taking notes, of all things! He even had questions… penetrating, probing questions.

  “So pinkie down first… and the importance of nail care and manicure can’t be understated, even for those without talons?” He asked, earnestly scribbling in his notepad.

  “Right! So once your fingers that aren’t planted start picking, flicking and tickling, you’ll really make her sing out loud!” The king urged his student, as they shared something they were both passionate about.

  “That’s the key to Scruggs style banjo, as opposed to clawhammer, which has its ardent adherents!”

  “Gods help us…” Amy moaned, when the banjolele and bass banjo came out, joining fiddles, a mandola and any number of guitars in a bumptuous and unstructured jam.

  “Bluegrass goblins…” Barry sighed, hugging Lindsey close, now that she was no longer too mortified to face him.

  “Blue? They’re mostly green, Sabrina is a little grayish, she says she’s a mountain goblin…” Lin burbled, her eyes a little wide from contact with whatever the king had been smoking. She kept talking and making little sense, as Barry draped his arm around the slim girl and turned her to the less populated areas of the compound, far from the damn goblin king’s pipe of weird herbs.

  “It’s ok, darling, let’s get some fresh air.” Barry sighed, leading her away from the nonsense.

  They strolled in the early afternoon, looking up at the alien sky of Goblinhome, the goblin dungeon. “I forgive Daisybelle, she was under the influence of the… thing, just like we were…” She murmured, flushing white hot with embarrassment at the ticking time bomb she’d left in that teddie’s tummy.

  “Certainly, things that happened last night and this morning can be taken for what they are, symptoms of magical interference, not anything that a person would ordinarily ever consider…” She stammered on and on, while the goblin’s smoke slowly cleared from her head.

  “Oh, gods, kill me now.”

  “Yes… and I’m sorry that you… went through that.” He mumbled awkwardly, before pulling something from behind himself, where she couldn’t see. He held out Mister MacGruber, the portly, stuffed owlbear plush from his childhood bed.

  “For you, Lin. It’s not much, I suppose, but I’ve had him since I was little. You seemed to like him, so… I love you Lindsey…”

  Warmth flooded her breast, as the boy held the simple, well crafted toy out to her, an honest and open hearted confession of love…

  She blushed, stammered something, took it and fled, her long legs flying, until she reached the stables, where Flash waited, eagerly excited after their prolonged separation.

  “That was a whole night, all alone! I know I’m a big horsie now, but come on!” He complained when she burst through the door. “I’d hoped Barry would finally mount you last night at least… Humans do dither on and on.”

  “Not you too!” She sighed and sank down to a bench in his stall, carefully rummaging in the plush toy’s hidden tummy for her shameful panties. She sighed deeply and relaxed, when she located the undies, safe and sound in the concealed pocket, with that odd pillow.

  “It feels like everyone is pushing me!” She mumbled as she removed the sack of stuffing, being certain to leave the scrap of white cotton securely inside. The odd pillow unfolded into a mesh bag, tucked into and buttoned together into a neat packet. When unfolded, it revealed itself to be a laundry bag, bearing an embroidered label at the opening.

  ‘Lindsey’s Laundry’ it read, making her blush and groan in despair. He knew, he’d seen… maybe he’d even touched them. His big, calloused hands, on her underthings, her dirty laundry… The thought made her shudder with horror and something less easily defined, but slightly delightful.

  “Barry’s not pushing you… But he totally sniffed those things you’re hiding...” Flash snuffled at her. “All the Shadow-mounted’s herd are odd, especially about mating. I’m a little concerned that you seem to be weird about it in those same ways.”

  “Horsie… shut your hay hole.” Barry grumbled from the door. “Shouldn’t you be pooping in my dad’s shoes? No child of Eponna has claimed that achievement in this world yet.” He eased down onto the bench beside Lindsey, while the horse dashed off on urgent business.

  “Your dad really doesn’t get mad about that?” She asked after a very complicated moment, where she had a difficult time deciding what to say, which she’d never felt before, with Barry. “All the horse crap in his shoes?”

  “Nope. Eponna has a special place in our family, she can get away with a lot. Thirp is the same, she touches all of us in one way or another… and she hopes you will accept her Contract, if you wish.” He mumbled. “I promised I’d give you her message, but that’s just an invitation, I swear.”

  “The panty cult?” She asked coldly. “Why you and not Amy, or your mother…? Well I’d rather it wasn’t your mother, frankly, she still intimidates me a little. Thats why I was desperate to get MisterMacGruber… I tucked my dirty panties in him last night, and now in the light of day I’m horrified by the thought you might find them, or worse, She might!” She stuttered, while mentally cursing the king and his herb.

  “Curse the king and his mind fogging, chatter-box herb!” She burbled, far too late to realize what was going on. “My horse and everyone else keeps asking why I haven't let you mount me, or why I haven’t ‘gobbled your knobble’ which means exactly what you think it does, young man!”

  Barry reached out and pulled her to his big, warm chest, muffling her long, sordid and deeply upsetting monologue, as it went on and on. That she couldn’t see the huge, shit eating grin smeared all over his face. “The bluegrass goblins are really loud, I can’t hear a thing…” He lied.

  /

  “Sexy hijinks aside, we do have a mission here. I’m supposed to consult your Magician and see what we can do about a soul jar that needs cracking.” Gary murmured happily, as the music drifted and came to a conclusion, around fifth bell. The kids had mostly wandered off during the extended improv sesh, so they could speak without young ears listening. “The cult mostly uses corpse bottles, they’re easier to use, create and move around… A true soul jar is a tough nut to crack.”

  “Yes, your demonstration was very helpful, those things are pernicious and resist simple solutions. We know of a number of troublesome sites that we’ve had to leave intact over the years.” The king purred, sounding satisfied.

  “I have several of my witches riding for sites in this very world, as we speak. The Tarots in the wider worlds are busy as well, scrubbing foul stains from the universes’ shorts.”

  “We’ve had to do a lot of that as well. I had the advantage of the ‘high ground’ as it were, back home.” He sighed and shrugged. “I have a foothold on your moon, now. Maybe I can help out a little.”

  “We don’t have a moon, brother. Only stars in our sky.” The king sighed, strumming something wild and untamed into the sky, his eyes unreadable behind his smoked goggles. “I missed having moons, even one would be nice.”

  “Bro, Shai chased War’s avatar across your moon last night… Though, I don’t remember seeing a planet below. Maybe you only get the dark side?” He suggested. “There’s one up there, though.”

  “There is one up there, now.” Ward mumbled, looking sheepish and deeply embarrassed. He pulled himself out of the shadow of a fig tree in the garden and strolled over, his usually cocky strut reduced to a confident swagger.

  “Gary brought one with him, after a fashion. Manifesting a ball of rocky, airless crud in the void is kinda small potatoes, after all. There’s no one out there to see what you do; not even any local gods, so there are few limits.”

  He smiled wanly at the two and chuckled.

  “I think the Necromancer can do something similar, if only temporarily and when the conditions are just right.”

  “He’s super creeped out by you, Ward.” Ghnash offered helpfully. “The Necromancer is. You make him nervous; your buddy Truck-Kun sets him off, too.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “He has been very adept at avoiding me. I guess a necromancer would be uncomfortable around the competition.” Ward sighed sadly. “Truck-Kun is very put out; he’s been trying to get in contact with him for… He’s hazy on time and stuff like that, but a good long while now.”

  “Speaking of that, how are you here?” Ghnash asked the smiling god of Death, Vengeance and Golden Figs. “There are no gods on this world.”

  “There were no gods on this world, brother. But the lord of this dungeon let a few in from another place, that’s you, Ghnash… And my generous and hospitable brother let me sneak in through his domain.” He smiled at several of the giggling goblin ladies scattered around the garden’s shady bowers and arbors.

  “Then I kissed… just a whole bunch of cute goblin girls in the bath.” He grinned like a huge asshole and settled down on a garden bench in the sun. “I planted some trees around too… Just a few here and there last night, hope you don’t mind.”

  “Fine. Just keep your hands off my harem… Fig Boy.” Ghnash grumbled, almost entirely joking, almost.

  “Let’s stay focused on our goals, This guy will get bored and wander off soon.” The king jerked a dismissive, taloned thumb at the deathgod schmoozing with a large ladybug by the avocado tree.

  “Ava and I were going to plant some of her around your domain, since you and yours seemed to enjoy taco tuesday so much.” He complained mildly. “We’ll just smush up some guacamole in Gary’s bedroom instead…”

  “Hey! Why our room? Gross!” Gary griped and was ignored, as usual…

  “Mmm… Guacamole!” The king purred, sounding hungry, while Ward and Ava slipped upstairs, without regard for Gary’s halfhearted and entirely unserious complaints.

  “Ward can’t be here for these discussions.” Amy announced firmly. “Shiro says he’s not allowed to help us in this, so it’s best he has no clue what’s up… technically. Unlike most divines, he was once mortal, so he can lie and prevaricate, so long as he has a hook to hang his own disbelief on.” She smiled and shook her head. “Before he can lie to the gods, he has to deceive himself. Just like Papa.” She sighed warmly, as Gary gave up on the dryad duo and returned to his seat beside her.

  “Yeah, just like me… Wait, what did you just say?” He asked, his eyes showing clear signs of exposure to Ghnash’s special blend.

  “Harry, brew us some coffee and join the discussion.” Amy called to the lad hiding behind the kitchen passthrough. “Your father... is hickory smoked; help me sober your dad up.” Her sweet mockery and teasing was answered with the usual complaints and excuses, which she dusted aside, as was proper.

  “You can be my papa again, when you can string two words together, stoned and foolish boy. Why can’t you be composed and decorous, like great king Ghnash? He seems to have his act together!”

  When the squabbling pair looked, great king Ghnash had a smiling goblin queen on each knee and a small heap of hopeful looking aspirants to the crown sprawled at his feet, awaiting his every command. His pipe continued puffing clouds of the sweet, spicy and pleasant scented smoke into the room, around his big, wide, self satisfied smile.

  “You know what, Ames? You make a lot of sense. But how am I gonna break the bad news to your mother?” Gary asked softly.

  “Gross, you’re both gross and disgusting beasts.” She sighed warmly as Harry arrived with the coffee and they all got back to business, kinda.

  “I must let the details remain unspoken, brother…” Ghnash continued, once their heads were clearer, or at least well caffeinated. “The remnants of the light cult still linger, even after their supposed god fell silent... Should they regain control of the Magician, much would be lost.”

  He shook his shaggy head and sighed. “Their demon pontiffs, body snatchers, possessed necromancers and slavers continue to despoil and ruin lives, we need to be supremely cautious.”

  “So, no living being can go where the Magician is, and he is unable to leave his chamber? I think I’m picking up what you’re laying down… and I don’t like it.” Gary rumbled dangerously, from over by the shortbread cookies and marmalade scones.

  “So we’re waiting for Necro to show up, before we can do anything at all.”

  “He must be our intermediary and will perform the ritual or spell needed to release our brother.” Ghnash nodded carefully and smiled. “Will be good… Even if we will lose one of our best and brightest.”

  “He won’t be ‘lost’, Ghnash. He’ll be living and breathing, somewhere.” Necro mumbled as he slipped in through the front door, silent as a shade. “Of that we can be certain, at least.”

  “Were you waiting outside, listening for an entrance line?” Harry asked, while he poured a mug for the new arrival.

  “A man of class and subtlety would eschew mentioning that detail, should he suspect such chicanery.” The tall, lean man in black answered with a smile that failed to survive its passage across the uncanny valley. Only a grim, death rictus emerged on the other side.

  “The real you is less spooky, uncle. Why did you send this thing?” Harry demanded, eyeing the pale, almost skeletal man.

  “What you call the ‘real me’ is little more than a living homunculus, created to allow me to move more easily among men. It is fragile and difficult to replace, if destroyed.” He answered coldly. “This is the closest I care to come to my original form. Can you become a baby again? Would you if you could?”

  A puff of something that almost wasn’t blue dragonfire flickered at his nose. It was absolutely blue dragonfire, flickering under his nose!

  “Cool…” Harry muttered softly. “Can I get a sample of your mucus?”

  “Boy!” Necro began, those blue flames appearing again as he stewed in frustration. An instant later he recognized the look on the boy’s face. “You did that deliberately, you little turd!” The Necromancer gasped, as a boney, slow, rattling sound rose from inside his suit.

  “I respect the commitment, kid.” He whispered a few seconds later, when the bone windchimes ended. “No one’s ‘tickled my funnybone’ in centuries. In the Eternal Halls, there is no laughter, nor music.”

  “That sounds lame, what kind of loser would hang out in a place like that?” He asked, a bland and vacuous smile on his face.

  “You’re quite the shit disturber, aren’t you?” The lean, pale man asked his smiling, millennia younger self.

  “Gotta turn over a shit pile, or it’ll fester and ignite. Then you’ve got a real mess. With a little care, fertilizer for the flowers.” He answered calmly. “Relax, we have too many edgelords hanging around already.”

  “Another hippie. You and Wheel must get along great.” The ancient being sighed. “I’ve been ‘Scary Necromancer’ and ‘Undead Dragon’ so long it’s hard to remember what it’s like to just be me. When I’m in my body of crafted flesh, I can almost forget the weight of the years.”

  “Whoah, deep.” Gary and the king mumbled together, both wedged into a single chair, sharing that damn pipe.

  /

  “New rule, goblin hashish only on holidays and declared off-days…” Gary announced, around a huge mug of water. “The cotton mouth… so dry!”

  “Try some of this guacamole! It helps a lot and there’s so much!” Ghnash urged his brother, from the breakfast taco bar he’d established.

  “You cook, Ghnash?” Gandree asked, from somewhere under Daisybelle’s wargs. Daisy was upset and on punishment, so they were upset and showing it.

  “I can use metal tools now! Cooking in clay is fine sometimes, but cooking in only clay sucks the big one!” He said with a huge smile and a musical tattoo with his spatulas. Fried egg and chorizo is up!” He declared in a bold tone, while sliding something delicious smelling across the bar to Lindsey.

  “Hey, take extra guac’ we has too-too much!” He yelled at the lean young woman. “Eat guacamole and you’ll thicken up some too! Tell him to feed you! Stuff you full!”

  For some reason the girl turned bright crimson and fled with a squeak of distress, clutching her taco. Never even stopped by the salsa bar for guac’.

  “Uhh… King-papa, Daisybelle goofed. Lindsey got pre-baby on her cheek, and now she’s mad, even though I never touched his baby-stick! Just once and only clawzies! Clawsies don’t count! Every-gob knows that! Who ever heard of a claw job, anyway?”

  The king silenced the gabbling goblin with a scrambled crocodile egg and naked mole rat taco, extra-extra guac’ and spicy sauce, jammed in her talkin’ stuff.

  “Ugh, I’ve stepped in it, again!” The king sighed, watching the poor girl flee, sobbing.

  “I’ll clean it up, as best I can, silly king.” Sabrina sighed, doffing her tall, poofy chef’s cap and frilled apron. She slipped from the ‘Goblin King’s Good-Good Taco Stand’ and vanished in the direction of the stables, her gray silk gown fluttering as she walked swiftly, without seeming rushed or disrupting her aura of refined elegance.

  /

  Lindsey leaned on Flash in the back of his stall, where the straw and fragrant wood shavings piled up deep. “I don’t think the King was really…” She mumbled thickly between sobs. “But after… and… I just…” She sobbed and gasped a little, rocking against the big, warm body of her familiar and thought for a while.

  After a silent few moments, she sighed, her voice tight and a little harsh. “He was right, this taco could really do with some guacamole…”

  “Hello, little sister.” A soft, warm voice whispered from the doorway, where early afternoon sun streamed in. Tall and slender Sabrina, the goblin queen slipped into the stall, tranquil and elegant in her movements and manner.

  “I come bearing my foolish husband’s apologies, for the shameful antics of our princess Daisybelle and his own unforgivable bad manners.” She swept in and dropped into the hay beside her and the horsie, gracefully as a falling leaf. “We thought it best I come speak to you, as you have probably had enough men telling you what to do already.”

  “Plenty of girls too, even a damn horse!” She grumbled, nudging the big goofy beast in his ribs with her elbow.

  “I’m sure.” She sighed, draping her arm around the girl in a motherly hug, despite the queen’s much smaller stature. “In the end, only the desires and feelings you and Barry share are important. Everyone else should eat worms. Including your silly horse.”

  Flash had enough sense to remain silent and still, for a few seconds there.

  “The royal family owes you a debt, sweet human child. That is a matter of some consequence. We will discover a means with which to even the scales.” Sabrina declared gently, after the colt proved himself possessed of at least a little horse-sense. With that, she rose and departed, bearing her regal presence lightly, as she drifted through the door.

  “She’s good at that…” Flash whickered softly, earning another nudge in the ribs and an ear scratch.

  /

  “No more sexy shenanigans… for at least a few days.” Gary ordered the gathered family and friends firmly. “Ok, unless it’s super sexy and silly! But no more…” Shai’s iron hard fingers twisted his ear and used that leverage to seat the poor Fool, who was still struggling with his emotions a little.

  My boy, his majesty and the Necromancer will be working on a project for a day or seven. We will be good guests in good king Ghnash’s domain…” Her green eyes bored into the goblin’s brown orbs, until he looked away. “And ye shall be good hosts, while we abide here.”

  “Yes, mistress Shai.” The king answered meekly.

  “Good! That settles that, we shall have a fine visit, learn new things and teach a fair few as well!” Shai declared excitedly. “Set up the booths, kids, tis time to start trading for profit!”

  Cheers arose from the Ward kids, as they all scrambled in different directions. Weeks of constant chaos left them with severe backlogs and work that needed doing, if deadlines were to be met.

  Rio was the first to jingle his way out into the town, pushing his tinker’s wagon. He was going to be popular in a town filled with goblins who were only just now able to use metal tools, as the metaphysical bonds restricting them to stone age tools, finally eased.

  His cart bore a small selection of steel cooking knives, simple tools, pots and pans, which clattered and clanked in the age-old call of the tinker-smith’s trade. The girls had no idea, until a few of the refugees explained what the boy with the noisy cart was doing.

  After that, he became too popular for comfort; goblins seldom wore much and then, very little. In the absence of a goblin man, they were sweet, friendly, cheerful and deeply curious about his goods, but still naked.

  “Um… Yes, for cooking! It won’t crack or keep weird flavors like clay and should last for years…” He explained to a group of excited ladies. “Please, don’t cluster around like that…”

  The complete absence of coins was a minor hurdle, but one that could be overcome, with a little knowledge and skill. Goblins were only now emerging from a prolonged, curse induced stone age, which was tough. They didn’t have coins, or much meaningful agriculture or industry. What they did have was stones.

  Goblin girls loved shiny stones almost obsessively, flowers and bright colored feathers too, but stones… They were special! King Ghnash said so! From an early age, mothers taught their children which stones were the best-best and would please the king the most! Jade, lapis, sapphire, emeralds and opals, just to name a few!

  For them, the king would give sweets, fine wood crafts from his royal hands, musical instruments to treasure for generations or, best of all; a private ride on the royal scepter!

  Goblings, runties, even elders were always watchful for shiny, colorful or the often ordinary stones the king loved so much. They combed streambeds, old rockfalls and eroded cliff faces as they foraged for food in the wilds. Naturally, they developed a keen eye for such things and a brisk trade in gems and semiprecious stones began. Likewise, shells, coral, pearls, tusks, bones and ivory circulated widely in the goblin economy, driven by the king’s insatiable appetite for such things.

  What he did with them all, gathered over the two hundred years and more he had ruled from his wandering castle, no-gob could say.

  /

  “Sure, I’ll take that bit of amber for a pot and a knife, two strings of beads and a bone flute in change.” The handsome, stupidly-tall human agreed eagerly. His big box of trinkets, whistles, toys, beads and bone jewelry swiftly emptied, as his pouch of precious and semi-precious stones got heavier. “Next please! Oh, is that a quartz cluster? Nice, I’ll give a knife, a pot and a shovel for that!”

  By late afternoon, his cart was laden down with his spoils and empty of goods, also draped in garlands of flowers and decorated with some very pretty feathers...

  Wilf and Amy’s forge chuffed fumes into the sky, As they smelted more scrap gleaned on their island foray into usable metal-goods. Barry, Larry and Perry all worked under the low shed roof, bare to the waist, swinging their hammers and using other tools in time with the music they made together, instinctively.

  Rio joined the song soon, shucking his shirt and stepping up to his own workbench, where a large pile of items awaited his attention. His small, light hammers fell in line with the percussion section, with the low bass drone of the potter’s wheel and high pitched whirr of polishing, grinding, engraving and cutting tools all around.

  At the heart of the music, Shai and Tallum worked in the forge under the inn, the basement windows flung open to catch the breeze, their hammers setting the time and her hips calling the tune.

  Up in the castle on the hill, Gary was in the witch king’s laboratory, wishing he was down with the family, working honest crafts. “Aww! I’m stuck doin’ witch stuff…” He whined, while Necro and Ghnash waited for him to get himself straightened out and get started with the lessons.