Book: 4

  Chapter 11

  Who Can It Be Now?

  Countess Trelawny Belen-Kinnes stretched languidly and gave a huge yawn, as morning’s first light slipped into the comfy room she shared with her husband, in Becky’s lovely wooden house. The place was even more unusual than Gary’s home, laid out as a private residence with small bedrooms upstairs and a spacious great-room, kitchen taking up the first floor. Magical light globes lit each room, activated by switches near each interior door. “Wake up Liam, you have to start being a lord again this morning.”

  “Gods and spirits, woman… is that any way to wake your hard working husband, right before he has to begin his tiresome duties? I have a whole day lined up, starting with finding laborers for the palace renovations.” He grumbled sourly. “I’m half tempted to build a modest manor house on the grounds and turn the castle into a museum.”

  “Sold!” Tawny pounced on her husband, pinning him to the plush, pillowy bedding, a wide, predatory smile on her face. “No taking that back, husband! A proper lord is decisive and unbending in his decisions! I have some sketches already drawn up, back at the palace… Or rather, at the museum!”

  “How long have you been plotting this idea I just came up with, wife?” Liam asked weakly, as the last several weeks of her subtle hints and offhanded remarks landed on him all at once.

  “Since we moved into that awful pile of rocks.” She announced with utter confidence. “I grew up in a cold and stoney hall like that one, Liam. I will have my child grow up in a home, not a creaking death-trap of eternally half-finished renovations.”

  “Yes, dear.” Liam was a young lord, but he recognized the signs of an un-winnable battle on the horizon with wisdom far beyond his years. “I’ll start immediately.”

  “In that case, let’s go down to breakfast. I promised to spend the day with Becky and our guests. You have much work to do!”

  Tawny’s golden smile won the day, sending her husband back up to the palace after a lovely breakfast, while she took her guests in hand in Becky’s garden.

  “Well then, what shall we do today? I suggest we go riding in the town and orchards, before lunch!” She offered eagerly. “I’m being selfish, but I want to get as much riding done as I can, before I get too big for the saddle.”

  “Tawny and Liam are going to be parents by next spring.” Becky loudly confided in Lianna and her husband, who looked deeply embarrassed and awkward as hell. “Are you ok Gary? You seem uncomfortable.”

  “He’s terribly uptight and awkward, my dear.” Lianna sighed with a fond smile for her much larger mate. “The poor thing is helpless in social situations and, I’m afraid he cannot ride horses. He’s also too embarrassed to admit it.”

  “Oh I have just the thing!” Becky enthused, as she darted off to a basement door. “Our Gary is hopeless on horseback too, the poor dear.” She called from a storage room under her porch.

  “Lianna, Becky… I’m a potent being and a figure of profound menace on several worlds! Don’t treat me like a child!” He fell silent, when Becky emerged, rolling a strange construct along beside her. “Is that a bike?” The Necromancer asked very softly, sounding like a kid on Christmas morning.

  “Yup, now mount up, brother. We’re going riding.” Becky grinned at her new, much older, undead sibling. “Let’s have some fun.”

  Sir Kermal coughed firmly into his clenched fist and grimaced. “Becky… The rest of us need to visit the stables.”

  “Pfft!” She scoffed merrily at her sensible and sober husband. “Keep up or catch up, slowpokes.”

  “I’m terribly sorry… She’s been running with a family of complete mooncalves for a few years now. Any sensible person would have waited, knowing Gary as we do; but sadly, my wife lacks foresight, sometimes.” Kermal made a huge show of apologising for his wife, as they strolled to the stables on the edge of town. “Now we have to put up with… This.”

  The mighty and terrible Necromancer, embodiment of fear and terror on dozens of worlds, he pedaled along, grinning like a complete idiot, ringing his bike bell from time to time as he steered wide circles around the small group, jeering and catcalling between mad giggles.

  “Honestly, I’ve never seen him like this…” Lianna whispered, her eyes wide in amazement. “I must purchase this… bike. Name your price, Becky.”

  “Thats just an old prototype my Gary made and left under my stairs. Keep it.” Becky sighed merrily, watching the dour, taciturn Necromancer behave like a child.

  Lianna and Kermal chose horses from the small herd roaming the paddocks beside the barn, while Tawny reunited with Magnus, her childhood pony who showed no signs of slowing down at almost twenty five years old. The burly, golden equine frisked and stamped with cheerful eagerness to get out in the sunshine with his human and her weird-ass friends again.

  Becky mounted her own bike, drawn from nowhere in a shimmer of sparkling motes. Her machine held a strange construct above the footpedals, linked to the gears and chain that drove the device… which was painted purple and violet, unsurprisingly.

  Together, they rode off into the lightly wooded outskirts of town, looking for a little light hearted fun and exercise. The Necromancer was way out ahead on that front, whistling gay tunes and smiling like a complete mooncalf, his legs cranking away, driving him all over the local area in great, arcing loops around the others.

  “You literally can’t comprehend how long I’ve wanted to ride again…” He shouted, through a smile that looked painfully wide.

  \

  In the distant… or something, realm of Goblin-home, Gary and the goblin king sat cross-legged facing each other, the soles of their feet and palms pressed together, lost in shared meditation on the lawn. High above, the slim crescent of the moon dangled, keen edged and shining like an executioner’s blade. A palpable sensation of anger trickled down in the rays of moonlight, warming the shin of the two men who were slowly drawing closer to a resolution, finding a balance between themselves and the being glaring down from the moon.

  “He’s a feisty one…” Gary mumbled, while Ghnash gently drew more and more of the divine remnant’s essence into his own soul. “Take it slow and just relax, he’s trying to engage with you in his usual way… You are in charge here, bro. You get to decide where and how you connect, not our mutual friend; he’s proven unreliable in the past, so strict supervision is needed.”

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  Ghnash nodded, a glare of total concentration and focus on his green, craggy face. “Yub-yub. Goblin-home needs no War-god, we need something bigger, better and more foundational…”

  They both ignored the noise, complaints and general sulky, stubborn resistance of the divine prisoner, as they worked together, creating a divine Contract in Ghnash’s soul.

  With the almost audible, metallic clang of a brazen door swinging wide and crashing against a wall, something changed in the garden. The moonlight became brighter, sharper and less distant, drawing a chorus of chirps and songs from the wildlife around the yard. In the distance, wolves howled a long, lonely song to the new forged moon, dangling among the stars. The hint of a pocked and craggy goblin face clarified, resolved and became un-mistakeable, leering down on the realm from so very high above.

  “Is that it?” Ghnash asked, sounding a little groggy and tired. “I don’t feel much difference.”

  “Wait a while, buddy. New Contracts take time to settle in, especially if you Contract late in life or with a being you don’t really vibe with…” Gary shook his head and smiled sadly. “You and I are both really compatible with War, the rage we hide deep inside draws him to us and us to him…” He shrugged and smiled weakly.

  “We just don’t respond well to being ordered around and that’s a big part of who he is. Dominance, control, command; he’s wild for that kind of thing.”

  “Well, he’s out of luck, bro. I’m the king here.” Ghnash replied warmly, clapping his taloned hand on the much larger man’s knee in a cheerful grip. The goblin stood from the lawn and took a stretch, smiling with delight.

  “Oh, I feel something now… feels good!” He purred warmly, rubbing his belly and bouncing on his toes with eager excitement. “Makes me wanna take a run and spar with my knights for a few rounds…”

  “Follow that instinct, brother.” Gary replied, sounding weary. “I’m just gonna head inside and chill. We’ll be heading home soon, so I’ll leave you and our friend to work it out together. He’s still pretty fixated on me and upset right now; best if I’m out of his sight for a while.”

  Ghnash watched his brother wander inside, looking very tired and worn down by the last several… whatever. He glanced at the silver moon and the furious eye peering down at him in impotent rage. “Deal with it, buddy. We don’t need an angry god of destruction and war. Time for you to learn some new tricks.” The sensation of indignant, divine fury raining down on his back felt awesome, as he strolled through goblin town and off into the darkness under the forest canopy.

  /

  Hermit woke in his cocoon, high above the lake, strung in a cleft in the mountain where no-one was going to bother him. He swayed and bobbed on his line, dangling six hundred feet above the lake and stoney shoreline, suspended from a spire of stone.

  With great care, he snipped and nibbled free of his cocoon, shedding the old Hermit in the process. Outside in the fresh, warm breezes, his new carapace began to harden, while he slowly and carefully checked out his new body. He was smaller, more heavily built and with far greater dexterity, nicely complementing his newly mutated pedipalps.

  “Hands…” He danced, just a little too excitedly, while still hanging from a strand of silk. Well, not exactly hands, they were carapaced, rather than skin and kinda spidery; each had seven slender, nimble fingers and a long, taloned thumb.

  “I have hands…” He bobbed and swayed drunkenly for a few minutes, until he got his shit together enough to swing over, catch a mountainside and start climbing down to introduce his friends to the new Hermit.

  Down on the spit of land where the inn once stood, only a dark ring of rich, black soil remained, but Becky’s tall purple and violet gingerbread fancy stood near the castle. The incongruous victorian style home called to the Hermit, but courtesy demanded he meet the ruling lord first.

  It was a simple matter, climbing down the sheer granite faces and tumbled, jagged scree to enter the castle through the ruined section, hard against the mountain. Time had not been kind to the old pile, offering Hermit any number of possible entries. He slipped into the dusty, time haunted and abandoned section of the castle and spun a little web net across two of his front legs.

  The place was infested with tasty little batspiders, mammalian beasts with a few insectile features here and there. Featuring four legs, four wings and a scorpion sting, mixed with carapace and feathers, the horrid beasts made for a confusing and ugly, but still delicious snack. The best part was their mildly intoxicating venom…

  Hermit was a little woozy, when he encountered a group of workmen preparing to begin their job in a dark, abandoned section of the south wing. Naturally, he slipped into the shadows, high above among the rafters, to avoid frightening the men.

  “You all ready? If not, too bad. It’s time to get to work, boys.” The foreman grunted eagerly. “Get yer gear on and remember, we take the fancy lad alive.”

  That was when Hermit realized something, in his sleepy, slightly potted brain… These guys were putting on armor that they had hidden in their wheelbarrows and carts.

  “Can we snatch a few women while we’re at it?” One asked quietly, sounding breathlessly excited.

  “Only if they are going to live long enough to sell! Keep your knives to yourself Anderson. That’s an order.” The leader growled. “This is a snatch job, not a slave raid. We have a target. He’s the headman of this shabby heap, Liam Kinnis; we snatch him and or his wife, alive and unspoiled.”

  He glared at his team of raiders for a long moment. “Any loot or slaves we can grab up will be ours, but first we get the target. We have til midday, after that the gate closes and we’re stuck here.”

  There were twenty of them down there… and I was in a freshly molted body, with nothing prepared. All I had was my harp and a small sack of colorful trinkets I’d woven for trade. Ribbons, lace and braid were not going to be very helpful, no matter how pretty and colorful.

  /

  Javier had a bad feeling about this job… in fact it stank to the stars above. Slave raiders seldom worked together, but here there were three distinct parties; all hired for a rush job at an outrageous rate. Slinking through the huge, abandoned castle ruins made his skin crawl and gave him an unshakeable feeling that he was being watched.

  Worse yet, the Hubert twins were on this contract, even among those in the skin trade, they had a dark reputation for emerging on top of every job... They would bear watching at all times.

  A flicker of something golden caught his eye, interrupting those thoughts with a little honest avarice. A glimmering, golden something lay just down a side passage a few feet, a small pile of gold dust or coins, perhaps?

  Javier grunted with disappointment, it was an intricate golden ribbon, three feet long. The pattern of complex florals and bold, golden and white colors intrigued him, drawing his eye almost irresistibly…

  /

  Venom… few things in life are as reliable and consistent as a good venom. Hermit’s prey bent down to collect his shining, golden prize, while the arachnid dropped down from above and bit him at the base of his skull… A polite raider would have washed his neck before heading out, but such is life… and death in this cold universe.

  The Hermit webbed him up neatly and tucked him in the rafters for later in just a few seconds; then rejoined the skulking raid already in progress.

  /

  “Shhh…” The lead raider hissed, as signs of recent activity began to appear. “Scouts, go find out what you can. Do not be seen. Javier, you’re in charge… Where’s Javier?”

  “Dunno, Jake… haven’t seen him in a little bit. Maybe he got lost or had to piss?” One of the men whispered back.

  “Brandon, go find him, don’t cause any trouble.”

  Brandon didn’t find him… He found himself ensnared and bitten just a few dozen yards from his comrades; once tucked away in the rafters, he caused no trouble at all.

  /

  Liam watched his wife ride off with their guests, before deciding to screw off his scheduled routine. “I’m spending the day in the townhouse garden. Send the staff there as well… we’re putting the castle and palace renovations on hold indefinitely.”

  “The farmers will be glad to hear it. Harvest time is coming and this year looks bountiful.” Madam Heskitt murmured happily. “It’s been a topsy-turvy summer, my lord. I hope we can get back on an even footing soon. Moving back into town will be a huge help, my lord.”

  “Is there anyone in my household who doesn’t despise the old, ancestral pile?” Liam demanded with a laugh, as his head of household staff made an elaborate face of polite curiosity. “My familiar appreciates the inexhaustible supply of bat-spiders it seems to be infested with, at least.”

  “Whatever could my lord mean?” She asked sweetly. “I was simply commenting that we can operate far more efficiently if we move your lordship and her ladyship into… proper accommodations.”

  “You already have my things packed. Don’t you?” The count asked, surrendering to the inevitable.

  “Of course not! That would be impertinent and indiscrete. Your lordship would certainly notice, if your household staff were to enthusiastically tuck you into bed and forcibly evacuate this moldering heap of crumbling rocks.” She smiled sweetly and nodded at her lord. “That was the lady Tawny’s suggestion at our last weekly meeting.”

  “Yes, I might have noticed that.” He remarked drily and with little enthusiasm. “You lot have no loyalty to me at all, do you?”

  “My lady’s husband is a doughty warrior and a fine count…” She remarked with a smile. “In serving you, I serve her ladyship.”

  The lord and his chief retainer walked together in comfortable silence, down into the town and to the modest townhouse the lord and lady maintained for those winter nights when the chilly old place was just too much, which meant all winter long the old dump was abandoned.

  At the modest home on a quiet, tree shaded lot, madam Heskitt vanished inside; while the count stepped into a potting shed, emerging a moment later dressed as a common workman in rough clothes, boots and gloves. If the shovel propped on his shoulder blurred the line between weapon and garden tool, that could be overlooked on the frontier of human lands.

  “Come on out Audrey, time to work.” He cooed to his left sleeve. A moment later, colorful foliage tumbled out of his shirt cuff, landing in a wriggling, vegetal pile on the soil of a garden bed. Within a few seconds a flourishing, man sized snapdragon writhed and coiled her tendrils around his ankles like a puppy, eager to play. “This is going to be a relaxing day.” He whispered to his familiar, as he began turning the soil with her roots.

  /