Book: 4

  Chapter 6 Herding Cats And Chasing Moonbeams

  Amy finally found Wilf and Harry for dinnertime, lost in their work, down below Wilf’s house. The two huge young men; one wide and blocky, the other tall and broad, though still only a lad of fourteen, hunched over their tools, focused on the tasks in their hands.

  “Boys… dinner.” Amy called and waited a moment before repeating herself. Receiving no answer, she spoke a little louder, overwhelming the constant, low drone of their machines. “Boys! Dinner!”

  Both lads jumped on their stools, while something small shot from Harry’s hands, to clatter against the far wall of the basement workshop.

  “Gods, Amy! Don’t just shout like that!” Harry griped, as he went in search of his tiny project.

  “There you are, sneaky little emerald!” He mumbled a few seconds later as he crawled under the lathe, rooting around in a dark corner.

  “Uhh, Wilf… something moved down here!” He sputtered, as he scrambled from under the machine, his face gone a little pale. “There’s a snake down there, I’m sure of it!”

  “Uhh, sorry.” The big lad mumbled, sounding embarrassed. “Vicky, come home right now.” He whispered into the shadows under the massive iron machine. A stream of shining, liquid darkness slithered out of the dark corner and flowed into the boy’s shadow, vanishing like water in sand.

  “Gemma, your patron is a creature of radiance and light; naturally, your visual spectrum is likely to expand... As you get closer to Contracting, you will start to see things that you couldn’t before.” Amy said softly, as she wrapped Harry in a hug. “Most living creatures can’t perceive her at all, Harry.”

  “She wanted you to see her, for some reason of her own. I dunno.” Wilf sighed quietly and shrugged.“Should we ask uncle Ward?”

  “Really, ask uncle Ward?” Amy looked at her bigger brother and sighed sadly. “Come on, boys! Dinner, then we’ll ask an expert.”

  /

  “If you’d contracted that spirit properly, you’d already know, my son.” Uncle Ghnash mumbled, seated on the workbench and admiring the shining, cut and polished gems arrayed on a tray lined with black suede leather.

  “She is deeply alien and darkly potent, a divine beast and an outsider in her own right.” He chittered his teeth at them, lost in some goblin emotion they couldn’t grasp; his eyes locked on the gleaming, radiant gems Wilf and Harry produced from the lumpy, shiny rocks his girls loved so much.

  “I hear her calling to you, Wilf… still begging to be let into your soul. You know her name, son. If you speak it, she will become more than she is now.” His taloned finger flicked a fire opal, sending a shower of sparkling light rolling across the little tray.

  “Ooo... Pretty!” He purred with real pleasure in his voice.

  “I don’t want to let a demon snake into my soul, uncle.” Wilf muttered, his eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. “I don’t want a divine beast… I really just want her to leave me alone.”

  Ghnash linked at the big lad a few times and cocked his head to the side, before chittering once more. “Nub? Is not what you want?”

  “No! Of course not! I don’t want a creepy shadow demon snake as my patron!” He almost spoke loudly enough to call it a shout; which was beyond rare from the quiet, sober boy.

  Ghnash sat back and thought for a long few seconds, his talons idly flicking gems across the tray of sparkles as he considered.

  “Wilf… She wishes to Contract you, as your familiar. Strong, dangerous and potent she is, but also she is yours, bound to you and a part of your own shadow, this cannot change.” The king sat back and smiled, gazing into the depths of a cushion cut amethyst.

  “She will not be your master; you are hers, always have been, since she attached herself to you.”

  “I don’t want a demon for a familiar, either!” Wilf insisted, almost sounding upset.

  “Come, children, follow uncle Ghnash. You should see something.” He sighed a little wearily and hopped to his feet. “Follow, up to the castle.”

  As a group, they walked under the stars up to the king’s ‘castle’ at the peak of the solitary stone precipice, looming over the valley floor.

  Down into the king’s workshop; a funhouse mirror reflection of their father’s and Wilf’s own spaces, they followed. In that chamber, filled with stone and wooden work benches and primitive tools, a heavy door of rough beams blocked a stone archway set in the far wall.

  “King’s treasury. Not even queens may enter. Not even princesses. Danger lies here, much danger.” Ghnash whispered as he put his smoked crystal goggles over his eyes. “Touch nothing, children. Nothing at all.”

  At the king’s touch, the door swung wide, silent and ponderous, revealing a brightly lit room of wonders and nightmares. Arrayed on shelves of lashed bamboo, all around stood objects of transcendent beauty and stark, soul rending terror, side by side in no particular order under glowstones set in the ceiling and walls.

  The most prominent object was the figure of a nude dancer, sculpted in purest white chalcedony and ornamented with miniature jewelry of tiny gem beads stood just eight inches tall, radiant and perfect in every detail, but it cast a long, writhing shadow on the wall behind it.

  Beside her, sat a wooden mask depicting a stylized demon face, the lacquered wooden mouth agape and its tongue lolling out wetly between the thing’s hideous fangs… writhing and alive. No eyes glared from the empty mask, but the nostrils seemed to breathe and the tongue slowly squirmed, as if constantly seeking prey.

  A jeweled heart slowly and silently pulsed on the next shelf, while a stone idol of a naked goblin woman with a round, pregnant belly glared from a plinth nearby, her eyes glowing redly, even under the bright lights.

  There were stone seats that beckoned the tired to sit in their waiting embrace, richly ornamented with bright colors and shiny inlaid mother of pearl that glinted a little too brightly and seemed just a bit too inviting.

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  A headdress of feathers and teeth seemed perfect for a goblin with style, even if a suspicious number of the fangs and teeth seemed to menace the wearer, as if the hat were the open maw of a hungry beast, waiting to devour the wearer.

  Hung on the back wall, musical instruments lurked, all crafted in bone, hide, teeth, hair and skin, mostly humanoid parts at that. Faces in torment leered from drumheads and banjo skins, while flutes and lyres moaned softly, whispering agonized pleas for release into the room.

  “Demons, all demons.” The king whispered softly. “This pretty lady is the last demon pontiff of this dungeon world… the one I took it back from.” He sighed, looking at the tiny, beautiful statue at the center of the room.

  “So pretty, but she is vile beyond your imaginings. Two hundred years and more I’ve kept her imprisoned as I unwound the light cults evil, one cursed cathedral and blasphemous temple at a time.” Ghnash’s huge, dark eyes turned to Wilf, seeming even more mad, behind the smoked lenses he wore under the bright lights.

  “She is Heisithn, lady of dark lust and forbidden desire; who hoped to become a true goddess of misery, suffering and pleasure in the pain of others. For untold generations she wrought wicked curses and torments on my people, binding us in savagery and madness, controlled by her arts and the sacrifice of so many of our children…” The king smiled wickedly at some dark memory.

  “She was meant to rule my people forever, binding goblinkind in endless slavery in a brutal cycle of rape, suffering and misery. On these shelves are her subordinates, my prisoners for so long now. Each of these trinkets is cursed and entrapped to let the demon hiding inside possess any goblin who picks them up. A fail safe, if you will. Even should the demon’s mortal vessel perish, another would always come along soon. We simply can’t resist shineys!”

  “That sounds awfully familiar.” Amy muttered, considering uncle Liam’s collection of beautiful and uncanny trophies.

  “Yes, light cult and demons in general are not very creative or clever, just sneaky and obsessed with dominating others.” The king said smugly. “They never considered being captured and tucked away, out of reach of innocent hands… or the impossible idea that maybe someone might discover the secret of slaying the immortal ones.”

  “You made those musical instruments, too…” The big lad muttered, while Amy and Harry stared in mingled wonder and horror at the contents of the goblin king’s ‘treasury’ of evil things.

  “Yub-yub. The instruments hold captured minor demons and spirits, summoned here by their wizards… I has made so many over the years, many more have been lost or destroyed.” He smiled coldly at the statue in the center of his treasury.

  “True demons like the pretty lady there, they once infested my home… Ruled it for no-gobb knows how long, constantly summoning lesser beings as weapons and servitors to aid their works. Now they are my slaves, imprisoned in my dungeon of bright-lights and curses.” The king swept a clawed hand over the expanse of awful musical instruments, his ‘treasures’ and chucked with dark pleasure.

  “Choose one of these lesser creatures, Wilf. Choose one and feed your familiar. When she takes her prey from your hands, speak her true name and complete your bond.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, uncle.” Wilf muttered nervously as he backed away from the vault door.

  “Nub nub, is awful idea! Truly horrific and an affront against all decency. Asking a child to slay the immortal and eternal is a blasphemy of the worst kind.” He agreed merrily.

  “Vicky is nub a mortal, nor a child. She is a being of the deep ether, the remnant shade of an immortal, clinging to your shadow in mindless desperation. The touch of your father’s inner darkness gave her form, even as he shredded the being she once was…” Ghnash sighed and shook his head.

  “I have been dreaming his life every night, moments of horror, rage and anger, playing before my eyes. I saw the end of the demon she once was… this creature is not that vile being. The thief of shadows and lurker in crypts is no more, son. Vicky is simply a newborn spirit, asking for your guidance.”

  “No fair, uncle!” Wilf grumbled unhappily. “She’s been haunting me for so long; I’m just tired now.”

  “Your dad is too close to the issue, that’s why she hides from him. He can only see the evil being he destroyed. Trust your family witch-doctor, son.” Ghnash stood and smiled at them, serene and more than a little unserious. He shut his vault and sealed it with a tear from each eye wiped on the lintel. “If you Contract that spirit serpent, you will both heal a little, I think.”

  He strolled away, whistling a merry tune, headed for the hot-spring below his castle. “I has a lot of work to do. Super serious king stuff, but any of my princesses will be able to tell me if you change your mind.”

  /

  “I changed my mind…” Lindsey gasped, as she filled another bucket with gravel, for Barry to haul out of the diggings. “I’d rather fight a swarm of stink-roaches barehanded, than shovel one more load of damn rocks.”

  “Take a break, Lin.” The big lad murmured. “My mom won’t think less of you.”

  “No chance, you great lunkhead! She’s a monster!” The lanky equestrian gasped, sagging and leaning on her shovel, despite her words. “I’m not gonna lose!”

  “Lin, she’s copper rank, almost bronze… and my dad made that shovel for her. It’s super magical. Like stupidly magical.” The big lad shook his head and dropped a huge, dusty hand on her equally dusty, slim shoulder. “She’s also really competitive.”

  “Aye, she has keen ears too, lad.” Shai called from over in the vast trench she’d excavated. “Tis time fer sorting and seiving, now. I’ll be running that sluice box if ye’ll handle the shake table!”

  “Oh, gods and spirits preserve me…” Lindsey followed her mad boy out onto the flats, where the strange machines waited, lurking like awful monsters. “I’m going to die on this miserable rockpile…”

  /

  “Die, you miserable rock pile!” Perry whipped his light war-hammer down on a stone-shell bagworm with a noisome splat, crushing the twelve foot monster moth larvae’s brain at last.

  “Ohh! Good-good hit!” Diana cried eagerly. “Can I has one with a pick on one face? That would be stabby!”

  “That’s actually the standard… We made this one to replicate your current weapon.” He nodded to her stone headed longhammer, crafted for her mother by the king himself, but chipped, worn and showing its age at last.

  “I’ll have one made to measure for you by tomorrow afternoon.”

  The short, burly marsh goblin grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth and giggled. “Is good bargaining, Perry-boy! I’ll help you peel this worm!”

  “Be careful of the mouth parts, their venom is crazy hallucinogenic. One poke and you’ll be holding onto the grass to stop yourself flying into space.” The big lad shook his head, when the goblin giggled and sucked her already poked finger.

  “Why you think we hunt these?” She asked, her eyes wide and her ears twitching. “Is wild ride! Later-later!” She dashed into the woods giggling and laughing at everything.

  “Nub worry, Perry-boy.” Daisybelle grumbled while helping Gandree slit open the monster’s nearly finished cocoon of tough silk, woven around with oh so many sharp stones. “She is known crazy woman. Strong fighter though.”

  “Oh, you were right, this silk is crazy strong!” Perry called, from somewhere on the other side of the dead monster’s massive corpse. “What happens if it pupates into a moth?”

  “Ah, is a monster wool-borer moth. Will fly off to prey on sheep, somewhere.” The cheerful goblin sighed. “How long you think Lin-lin will stay mad?”

  “You dropped my brother’s tackle on her face while she was sleeping… a while yet.” Perry grumbled at the green girl. “Barry’s pretty upset about it too.”

  “I had to wrangle his dangle… I get to be mad too, Daze!” the burly dwarf complained from the huge pile of rocks and silk. “Oh! A topaz!” He sang excitedly, amid the sound of clattering stones.

  /

  “So the essential element is internal, if the being inside the jar isn’t committed to escaping, it won’t work, no matter what. Inside a true soul jar, the prisoner is basically in a closed pocket universe where he’s in complete control.” Gary explained again to the tiny baby’s face, drawn in ink on a rawhide drumhead.

  “I get it, and I refuse. I have more work to do yet.” The magician answered with finality.

  “Brother, if something were to happen to me, none of us could free you, ever.” The Necromancer whispered softly. “Think, it’s been so long already. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’ll not go into the void until I’m certain the cult is destroyed finally.” He sighed. “As you say, it’s been so long, what matters a few more years or centuries?”

  The drumhead baby smiled soberly, a toothless and oddly wise expression. “Besides, what could happen to you? The mighty dracolich who has been the terror of a thousand worlds?”

  “Flattery, brother?” Necro sighed and chuckled a hollow, empty laugh. “I’m tired, tired of being… of being this. I’d feel the sun on my skin, walk in the daylight without worry and breath with real, honest lungs. Ward offered to ease me through his shadow, when I’m ready.”

  “Whoa, heavy stuff. I’ll be heading home, you guys know how to get in touch.” Gary mumbled, as he gathered his tea service, preparing to depart the king’s conference chamber and leave the two ancient beings alone to talk.

  “Brother Fool…” The Magician called, as the bard was almost out the door. “Thank you for your instruction. I think I better understand the nature of the prison I’ve occupied for so long.”

  “Sure, bro. I’m here if you need me.” His whistle lingered a while as he wandered down the hill, headed for his inn on the lower slopes of the king’s solitary pinnacle of stone.

  “I really don’t understand him at all.” The Magician muttered sourly.

  “I’m more concerned with the Hermit…” Necro whispered. “I think he’s in love.”

  /