Book: 4

  Chapter 13

  Spiders From Mars

  Countess Lianna smiled as her dour, staid and deeply morose husband pedaled in circles, merrily ringing the bell mounted on his handlebars and giggling. He was coated from head to toe in forest loam, detritus and leaves… Even his teeth, which were on display and had been for the entire ride, through all the dirt, leaves and bugs. The mighty and terrible Necromancer, scourge of dozens of worlds, simply couldn’t stop smiling and laughing like a child.

  “Don’t fret, sister… Your Gary is being touched by the lady Cowl, goddess of Joy. Our Gary has long been among her favorites, so I suppose this should come as no surprise.”

  “A foreign goddess is meddling with my husband? I mislike that, sister Tawny.” The countess whispered nervously.

  “I have the honor of serving in two cults; both Joy and lady Dana, the Healer have embraced me into their clergy. I assure you, as a cleric of Dana; the lady Joy has nothing but good intentions here.” Tawny nodded soberly at her new sister… or something and smiled. “Moreover, she will not interfere with him or you, without explicit consent…” Necro went whizzing by the equestrians, following Becky on her mad, purple machine, also giggling like a child. “Well, she’ll interfere this much... But no more, I promise you!”

  “Perhaps we should return… Your poor husband must be laboring so hard at his duties.” Lianna muttered, even more mystified by her once sensible husband. “What does he mean by ‘Pop-A-Wheelie’, sister?”

  “It’s a deeply unsafe practice that serves no valid purpose, my dear. It’s a stunt, if you will. Don’t worry, I’m well practiced at the fine art of putting Garies back together.” Tawny replied blandly, while Gary Ward, the Necromancer rolled down a steep hill on only his back wheel, whooping with joy and building up dangerous speeds. His ridiculous ‘Wheelie’ stunt combined high speeds with a breathtaking lack of control and an absolutely reckless disdain for life itself; so naturally, Becky was right there beside him.

  With a gasp of dismay and worry, Tawny let loose a bellow that startled the wildlife for a quarter mile.

  “Dear goddess…! Becky Ward! You get both wheels on the ground right now, young lady or…” The golden priestess paused, searching for a dire enough threat. “Or I’ll tell Gary on you!”

  Becky only laughed and sped away down the long, smooth roadway of baked clay. With a concerned frown, Countess Lianna suppressed a very strong impression that the horses and ponies were laughing and giggling at the silly display; that was pure madness, of course.

  Tawny’s elderly, golden pony seemed particularly amused as he frisked in place and whickered his delight. “Lady Tawny… your mount…” She stammered, as the pony’s wise, brown eyes turned to meet hers with placid interest shining there.

  “Magnus? He’s a dear, isn’t he? We’ve been together since…” She fell silent, contemplating her mount as they rode behind the whooping pair of dolts on bikes. “I never really considered how long it’s been, old friend.” She patted the beast between his golden ears, making him shiver all over with horsie delight. “The goddess Eponna has her eyes on all of us; I’m sure that’s why all our horses are so… extraordinary.” Her handsome golden pony tossed his mane and nodded, as if agreeing with his mistress’ assessment.

  The equestrians caught up with Becky and the Necromancer at the foot of the slope, where the two dusty, dirty and sweaty bike riders were leaning on their saddles and gasping with delight, awaiting the sane people and their sensible horsies. “We did some trail riding while we waited…” Becky sighed happily.

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  “I love this town.” Necro announced firmly, through a wide crooked smile of happiness.

  The young priestess leaned over and hugged Necro, only to realize a moment later that he was a Gary, not her Gary. “Sorry about that… I forgot.” She mumbled awkwardly, her cheeks purpling in deep embarrassment.

  “It’s fine… Really…” The equally embarrassed, vastly ancient, undying necromancer mumbled just as nervously.

  “Our Gary was just awfully socially awkward when I met him…” Tawny confessed merrily as the mounted party swept the two nerds up in their group. “The more of him I meet, the more bizarre the situation becomes.”

  “I prefer to simply ignore the things I don’t understand and smile a lot.” Sir Kermal Singh muttered quietly. “Their explanations only lead to more questions. I’m still unclear in exactly what context I should ‘Blame It On The Boogie’ and he’s never been able to clarify even that!”

  “Shh… We don’t want to set off an ‘event’ or anything silly.” Tawny whispered urgently. “We don’t know what could trigger this Gary, yet.”

  “Trigger him?” Leanna asked mildly. “I’ve never known him to have a temper… Well, no more than anyone does.”

  “I think most iterations of him, like everyone, have some kind of anger issues, deep inside.” Tawny scratched her mount’s ears, drawing a happy nicker from his muzzle. “What we’re referring to are his… or rather, their frequent magical displays and discharges. Usually they are expressed as song and dance performances, often engulfing large groups of participants. It’s an unusual experience; I’m sure you understand.”

  “Really? Nothing springs to mind.” Lianna remarked blandly as they approached the castle’s outer gate. “I’ll watch out for this phenomenon, I suppose.”

  “My lady, noble guests…” The gate guard sprinted forward and bowed in fine form, eager to impress the outland nobles for his masters’ honor. He finished his very well performed courtesy and saluted, which was a bit much. “His lordship has closed the castle, deeming it unsafe to enter until further notice. He awaits your convenience at the town house, my lady, honored guests.” The fellow gracefully bowed once more, which was a feat in full armor; only a long, terrible wail of mortal terror drifting on the wind marred the display. “His lordship insists that the sound is the wind in the tunnels, please disregard the noise…” The young warrior seemed far less certain than he had a moment before.

  “Excellent… We’ll join my husband in town, in that case.” Lady Tawny answered with a little less enthusiasm as well, as that awful sound faded into silence, as the party rode away. “That really did sound like a person screaming, but there’s no one in there at all.” She sighed a quarter mile down the road. “All our house staff evacuated for the… emergency. We gave those who returned a month off to get re-settled.”

  “That settles it, then.” Sir Kermal interjected firmly. “The sound we heard could not have been a man in mortal terror, screaming his last breath into a cruel and uncaring void.”

  “That seems pretty specific.” Lianna muttered sourly, her nerves set on edge by that terrible sound.

  /

  “That seems pretty specific…” Farragut grumbled angrily at the young mage monitoring the gateway ritual.

  “That’s the only way I can describe it.” The young mage whispered desperately. “It really feels like a spider is crawling across my magical array.”

  “Security team, look sharp…” Sir Farragut snapped at his warriors, sprawled all over the ready-room and looking decidedly unready. “Gods, men, snap to!” He barked angrily at his squad, the senior knight’s voice echoing around the cavernous, stone carved ritual chamber, deep underground.

  The rattle and clatter of his men stuffing themselves into their neglected, ill fitting armor drowned out the soft sounds of a very brief struggle, over by the ritual circle. “Hey, where’s Huddlestone?” Corporal Trask muttered a moment later.

  “I thought he was called Higgleston…” Someone offered, unhelpfully.

  “No one will be calling him anything, anymore.” A soft, musical and alien voice whispered from a shadowy corner, across the vast chamber. “I hurled him into the void, through your abominable gateway. You’ll join him soon.”

  A white, large body flashed by the knot of half armored warriors, leaving Chalmers lying on the floor with two large wounds on his shoulder. He had been bitten by some kind of venomous creature, judging by the expression of agony and terror frozen on his paralyzed face.

  “Arachnean!” Trask shouted, just as a large, tangled knot of extraordinarily sticky webbing engulfed his face; hurled from the ceiling by the awful, eight legged monster lurking there.

  “Not exactly right, but close enough.” Hermit whispered through his harp, before dropping on another of them from high above, smashing the man flat. “Let’s get this done with, shall we? I have a lunch date.” He danced that last bit, but these men were too terrified to comprehend anyway.

  /