Book: 4

  Chapter 14

  Closing Time

  Outside the ornamental iron gate guarding the entrance to the ducal palace grounds of Wheatford duchy, on a sweltering, dusty late summer afternoon, a weary band of armored knights and their baggage train halted, sweaty and battered by a long road. A stocky, not overly tall, burly man hailed them, dressed in the clothing of a prosperous tradesman or crafter, plying the leader of the warrior troupe with questions.

  “Is this report complete and accurate, Rolf?” Duke Leopold Belen, lord of Wheatford and the surrounding domains asked his dusty, sweaty son; while the grooms were busy leading the mounts and baggage animals away. The burly, middle aged lord stood still at rest and moved with startling vigor, making up for his vertical stature with an abundance of physical presence; Leo swatted his open palm with a rolled up document and strode over to embrace his son, dusty armor and all.

  “Yes, father… As of my departure six days ago. The enemy has been utterly routed and evicted from our lands.” Rolf answered calmly, despite Ester giggling and stamping her hooves in equine amusement at the display of parental affection.

  “And the Wards? Where are they currently?” Leo asked his embarrassed son, following the young man into the palace and through the family wing to the baths.

  “They are on a family outing, delving a dungeon world with the goblin king at the moment…” Rolf faltered and smiled a thin, desperate little grin. “I find myself saying the most insane things whenever I meet with him.”

  “That has been my experience as well, son. Is he… is he back? Really, I mean… Is he what he was before?” The duke asked softly, once his son was out of his armor and submerged in the baths.

  “Father, can’t it wait?” The young lord demanded, as he rinsed off. “I haven’t even spoken to my wife yet! And I’m in the bath!”

  “I’d believe your shy act, if Ester wasn’t here as well.” The smiling lord grunted happily, as he sank onto a bench beside the large soaking tub to continue his interrogation.

  “He’s got you there, boss.” Ester sighed happily, as she took a leisurely paddle around the huge bathtub, doing laps around her bonded companion. “Especially since I’m so cute and pretty!”

  “Ester, you suck. Father, she’s my familar… even if she weren’t here it wouldn’t matter.” Rolf sighed, sounding exhausted. “Gary is getting stronger, but he’s different now. Less deranged and somehow, less predictable at the same time. I met several of… him and I’ve never been so terrified in my life.”

  “I’m sorry, son, several of him?” Broad, scarred, swordsman’s hands landed on the young lord’s shoulder, comforting him as his father quietly interrogated his son. “You can’t leave something like that just hanging out there.”

  “There are many of him, father, scattered across the cosmos and beyond. I met at least a few dozen of him; but there are probably many, many more out there in the expanse, each just a little weirder than the last.” Rolf slid farther down in the bath, almost submerging, before he spoke; his lips barely above the steaming water’s surface.

  “He’s always been this uncanny, we just couldn’t see it until too late.”

  “Rolf… I need to know everything you can tell me about his current plans and intentions. I know he’s a friend; but the interests of our domain and house must come first. I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing to me, father? My friend is the one we wronged; and he’s the one who paid the price for our misjudgement, again and again.” Rolf spoke firmly and softly, inaudible above Ester’s antics, even were there anyone around to overhear. “We should be doing more to tie him to our house, rather than letting the clerical council run him out of town.”

  “I’ll tell you something only a few people know, son… Gary and Shai agreed to leave town and distance themselves from us. It’s a political reality we just have to live with.” Leo grumbled over the childish splashing and giggling Ester was getting up to. “We must maintain our distance from him, as best we can.”

  “Are you hearing more of that foolish ‘archduke’ talk on the streets?” Rolf asked warily. “I thought we had that shut down once and for all.”

  “If I could put a lance through the idea and bury it deep, I would; but words and thoughts are pernicious things. Tales have been spreading again… Tales of wonders and terrors. It makes honest people nervous; while the ambitious ones get ideas in their heads.” The sober, older man grumbled. His fists clenched as he spoke, as if seeking the shaft of a lance or a sword hilt to grip. “A few idiots in the southern lands are openly advocating for war with the empire and demanding that I lead the charge.”

  “Gary’s family is not going to participate in any kind of political plays… forget involving them in a war of conquest. You know that.” The young lord sighed, hauling Ester into his lap to give her a proper scrubbing. The pale, white blond girl-child wriggled and squawked at the indignity of the thing, when Rolf dunked her under the surface for a moment to rinse her again. “Hold still, darling; you still have soap in your mane.”

  “I’m a pretty little girl right now, you brute! That means I have soap in my hair!” With that impressive bit of logic and rhetoric floating on the steam, Ester finished rinsing herself and chuffed at the two men in a very horsie way, before stamping out. Ester paused to have a shake, scattering water everywhere and soaking the towels and robe laid out for the young lord’s use.

  “Rolf, my boy… That horse of yours is a handful.” The duke paused, contemplating the mural of a summer sky painted on the ceiling. “The schemers and plotters see that poor Fool as a weapon of conquest, to be used… I just find myself missing his baths and bedding. Did you sleep in one of his beds? Tell me all about it!”

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  “Dad… You stink.” Rolf muttered at his father, while he toweled off with a damp cloth and shrugged into a damp robe. “Damned horse…”

  /

  “...I went to a dryad’s first birthday party and we ate so many sweets that Sasha barfed! I didn’t know moth spirits could even puke!” Ester babbled happily from deep in Angie’s arms, cuddled in around her well rounded belly.

  The lady Angie lay in bed; under strict orders to remain there, while stuffed too full of her husband’s latest folly. “We defeated a whole army and I fought beside a squad of the cutest goblin knights!” The unicorn gasped breathlessly at her rider’s wife, while shooting unhappy glares at the master of the house and his son. “Rolf’s performance was… adequate.”

  “Ester’s angry at me for not following the Wards into a dungeon world.” Rolf explained weakly. “She’s been insufferable for a week now.”

  “Rest assured, if you had followed that creature through the veil, I would be snitching you out just as vigorously as I’m chiding you for your milquetoast attitude toward adventure!” Ester scolded her bonded rider mercilessly, while his wife watched with deep amusement on her pale, drawn face.

  Duke Belen watched the homey show from the doorway, savoring his novel perspective, as an observer, rather than the target of a sharp tongue.

  “Run along you two… Lady Angie needs rest; not whatever it is you bring with you.” Ancient Naomi of Healer croaked from a deeply cushioned rocking chair beside the lady’s bedside. “There will be time enough for foolish male antics, once we have yet another new lordling stinking up the ducal palace.”

  “Stinking up the palace? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Rolf demanded weakly while his wife and familiar both smiled and nodded at the young lord and the duke, as if they were interlopers in a sacred space.

  The aged crone settled back in her seat and sighed happily, her wrinkled face creased in a well worn smile. “Yours was the sixth generation of Belen heirs birthed under my care, child… I’ll be pleased to watch a seventh born within the next day or two, if my lord can refrain from upsetting my patient.” In the face of the venerable elder, Rolf kissed his exhausted wife and fled, seeking a quiet spot for a nap where no one would find him for a while.

  /

  On a shady, tree lined street, nestled among several similar homes, Liam Kinnis, count of Foresthome toiled in his front garden. His shears clicked and hissed in a steady rhythm, as he snipped back the tomato vines and gave his pole beans a shake to dislodge any sneaky pests.

  On the rich, loamy soil below, a tangle of sweet pea vines and snapdragon flowers waited patiently for any tasty bugs to tumble into her waiting mouths. Audrey the Rend-root bush crawled and twined throughout the garden and grounds, her blooms and vegetation hidden all around and under every planting. With quick, sneaky vines and hungry flower mouths she waited, ready to snap up any juicy caterpillars, grubs and beetles that might intrude on her master’s garden.

  The colorful, alien plant creature sat up and began to rattle a few of her seed pods in welcome, when her master’s mate and her friends rode into the garden on sweaty, happy horses.

  “Audrey, darling!” Becky cried happily, when she spotted the flowerbed of hungry, carnivorous plant-monster, twining and knotting herself eagerly near the gate. The young priestess dismounted from her machine and dove into the tangled mass of animate foliage, giggling happily as she vanished among the vines, thorns and blossoms.

  “Honey… remember, we have guests.” Kermal Singh, knight champion of house Rummel of Port Clement smiled blandly, while his wife vanished into the overgrown flowerbush, deflecting the Necromancer’s curious glance with a shrug. “She really likes plants, especially Audrey.”

  “Ah! Welcome to our actual home, friends…” Liam called eagerly, dropping the handles of his wheelbarrow of compost and rushing over to greet his visitors, the young lord’s hands were covered in soil and his shirtsleeves stained with sap. “Come inside, lunch should be ready; mistress Godwin, our neighbor, was kind enough to come over and prepare something. Rejoice, you shall be spared my cooking!” A raucous cry of delight shook the peaceful neighborhood of modest homes, startling sleepy pets and disturbing a nap or two. The mad gaggle of guests stampeded inside, raising a cheerful ruckus in the quiet home, as they sought the kitchen and the source of certain delightful scents drifting on the air.

  Their departure left Becky and the count to tend the horses and bikes on the lawn, smiling ruefully as they worked, grooming horses, stowing tack and gear with long practiced skill.

  “What do you think of this Necro fellow, Becky?” Liam asked quietly, once everyone else was indoors. “He makes me nervous in ways I don’t understand.”

  “Think back to when you met our Gary for the first time…” The priestess muttered too softly to be overheard, even by supernaturally keen ears. “Remember what he was like then? This Gary has the same thing going on, but he’s way worse at hiding it; what you feel is the presence of a simply ridiculous number of haunts and shades, clinging to his shadow.” The dusky cleric nodded firmly, when her older brother scoffed at the idea.

  “Our Gary was and still is haunted by a legion of shades from his world and ours… quite a few others as well, I suspect. Those haunts aren’t ghosts, they’re more like fond memories and nostalgic emotions made manifest by his madness and broken soul. Necro’s haunts are real ghosts, thousands of them.”

  “Thousands?” Liam asked softly, feeling the hairs on his arms raise at the approach of something uncanny.

  “Forgive me for intruding, but yes, she is correct, lord Liam.” Necro whispered from the shade of a dogwood tree near the front porch. “I see and hear much of what my haunts perceive, as well. It’s not something I have control over… hence my terribly rude interruption of your private chat.” The older, slightly tired looking version of their friend muttered sourly. “I’m awfully sneaky, too. Good job hiding your distress at my frightfully impolite and sudden appearance. Most people scream a little when I do that.”

  “Yeah, well our Gary is just as weird and sneaky as you, buddy. We’re used to jump-scares, piss-magic, shit-wizardry and spooky stuff.” Becky answered just a little sharply, once her heart slowed down some. “Sneaky git!”

  “I came out to tell you that I’m sensing some… trouble in your castle up on the hill. There aren’t many local ghosts around, so I’m just guessing; but I think there’s a void opening active in your basement.” He smiled wearily at the young lord and shook his head. “My brother, Hermit seems to be sealing it even as we speak, so worry not. This region seems to be particularly unstable and prone to the creation of void passages. My own dungeon world behaves in a similar manner.”

  “Yes, but this isn’t a dungeon world.” Liam replied very calmly, around the knot in his throat. “I’m pretty certain there weren’t any entrances in the castle. I would have noticed.”

  “There are entrances all around us, son.” The man said firmly and calmly. “Most are deep in the earth, high in the sky or too tiny to allow anything of consequence to pass, but can be expanded with the right spells, abilities and techniques; others allow small beasts to pass freely, while most remain entirely closed and impassable, unless opened by a sentient being with the correct arts.” He grinned in the crooked, amused and mad way their friend always had, which was extra creepy from that stranger’s familiar, uncanny, forgettable face.

  “Hermit just finished sealing it shut, I’ll ask him to report to you, my lord.”

  “Uh, thanks… and just call me Liam… Necro.” The handsome count answered nervously.

  “I get it, son… My brothers and I are a lot to deal with; I sense you had a long chat with the Hive, as well. He’s among our more… alien members.” Necro grinned his mad, crooked smile at the young lord and shook his head. “One of us is a drifting, sentient cloud of a particularly nasty virus; forever haunting a world entirely without animal life, above the surface of the seas. Only a few of us can ever visit the Plague Doctor and he can never leave his home; since any world he visits will invariably be infected by him.”

  “That’s awful…” Becky whispered quietly. “How many of you are there?”

  “That is an excellent question, Becky.” Necro failed entirely to answer her with a smile. “I sense Hermit coming this way, let’s go inside so he can approach unseen. The poor fellow is very shy.”

  /

  Hermit clambered back into the depths beneath count Liam’s castle, sealing the way behind himself with a silken spell woven too fine for the living and sane to perceive its existence. A few minutes of scuttling, leaping and crawling later, he emerged from a disused cellar door on the back side of an abandoned ruin, just outside the town. The feast of batspiders he enjoyed on the way boosted his mood almost as much as the hunt through the cellars, crypts and caverns… almost.

  Hermit took a few giddy hops as he made his silent way through the trees and scrublands above the peaceful town, eager to meet his new human friends once again. Slipping through the lengthening shadows of a hot summer evening, Hermit tracked Necro’s presence to a modest home on a shady side street on the edge of town near the castle. Entering through an attic louvre and descending through a hatchway, Hermit found himself confronted by Necro, the count and Becky, when he dropped down on a silken line.