Book: 4

  Chapter 18

  Changes

  Under the luminous fungal growths clinging to the damp, dripping cavern walls, a small band of goblin warriors were busily amusing themselves in the traditional manner of their kind; torturing something weaker than themselves. Six goblins with long, crooked spears poked and jabbed a battered, bleeding beast of some kind that they had trapped in a hole. Several more lounged around jeering and urging the spear gobbs when one managed to make the exhausted creature whine or roar with pain. The fun and games took a more interesting turn when two humans burst from a tunnel mouth, shouting with fury.

  Two heavy armored warriors came crashing through the barricade of sharpened sticks blocking the right side of the tunnel, screaming for blood. The man in the lead wore dark brown wooden plate mail of intricate design, while wielding a short, heavy spear and a round shield, as he crashed into a cluster of confused goblins with little warning.

  Armored in dark green, Barry followed his brother, Perry’s shield rush, crashing into the chamber with his keen edged steel cutlass in his right hand and an iron bar on an identical hilt in his left, slashing and bashing the foe in a frenzy of unexpected violence.

  Perry’s heavy spear smashed a stone ax wielding goblin aside, while crunching the rim of his bronze bound shield into the face of another, who tried to come in low with a long, rusty dagger aimed for the young warrior’s guts. The chipped edge of the blade grated against his armor, even as the goblin died, gurgling his last breath though a smashed face.

  Barry’s sword hilted iron bar and flashing cutlass wove in and out of the wild melee slashing and crushing the little monsters wholesale. At the left side of the barricade, where two goblins stood guard, small green bodies flew and screams arose, as another duo slammed in through the makeshift gate. Larry and Gandree took the center, the dwarf plying a short war-shovel and a shield, while Larry hurled javelins and darts at the disorganized troop of goblins.

  “Push, push!” Harry shouted from the back line, his small crossbow singing out in rhythmic clacks and thrums as he reloaded again and again. Lindsey plied her spear with gusto from the back line with the youngest lad, driving the main body of the goblin troupe back into their suddenly embattled comrades. The screams and battlecries echoed in the cavern, punctuated by the clack that heralded the small, steel tipped bolts that flew from Harry’s murder machine.

  Any goblin who showed a hint of backbone or leadership quickly caught one of the small, leather fletched darts in short order. The young marksman’s weapon didn’t pack much power; just enough force to deliver the toxin dipped projectiles reliably within thirty yards or so.

  Four long minutes and twenty slain gobbs later, the team slowly spread out to loot the fallen; gasping and exhausted by a flurry of adrenaline fueled madness and carnage. “Sound off if you’ve been injured…” Harry murmured across the comms. “Gandree, Larry, see if you can get that barricade set back up. We need to hole up and rest a bit before we tangle with the first level boss.”

  The huge room rose to a high, domed ceiling of granite, flecked with glimmering quartz crystals and small nodules of luminous mushrooms. A few other glowing stones cast a dim illumination from above, hardly more than starlight. Water trickled from a narrow fissure in one moss covered wall, draining away down a shallow gutter carved in the stone floor in some distant, forgotten age. Otherwise, there were a few rude nests of rancid furs and trash scattered in the corners and a general litter of rubbish all around the floor.

  “Perry, Barry; keep watch while we tidy up and make camp.”

  A few push brooms and shovels appeared from the boys’ storage gifts, followed by the unpleasant work of making the chamber habitable, even temporarily. All the trash, rotten hides and goblin waste ended up under a tarp, weighed down by a few heavy stones in the far corner of the rough stone chamber.

  “We can’t create our house or access the deeper levels of storage it holds, while inside a dungeon level. We have to camp like normies…” Harry sighed, once the camp stove and magical lanterns were lit, increasing the light level to something like the warm glow of late evening in the mountains.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  A pair of pop up tents housed a portable shitter and a shower; but otherwise, the team laid out cots and bedrolls under the vaulted stone of the cavern. The band set up swiftly, creating an encampment and dealing out boxed lunches, while Larry and Perry stood watch. The two lads lurked behind the hastily assembled barricade in the cavern’s entrance, remaining alert for any wandering mobs. Their vigil went undisturbed for a half hour, when Barry and Gandree relieved them for the next watch.

  “I still say I should take a turn at guard duty.” Lindsey grumbled and sulked at the boys and their father, who appeared from the shadows when the lunch boxes appeared.

  “Not safe, not smart. The scent of a humanoid male makes goblins aggressive and fires up their territorial instincts; the scent of a humanoid female makes them actually dangerous.” Gary lectured calmly. “Putting you on guard duty is counter-productive at best, the little shits are absolutely single minded and sneaky.” He crunched into his crispy pork cutlet, slathered in sweet and tangy tamarind sauce and sighed happily. “Bento boxes, a dungeon crawl and a level-boss ahead… This is an otaku’s dream.”

  “About the boss monster…” Lindsey began, once she finished her grilled onigiri, stuffed with spicy miso salmon. “I admit, I’m a little nervous.”

  “Yeah, this is my first dungeon crawl, too.” He smiled at her, a crooked, slightly mad expression that made him look both more and less like Barry at once. “You guys are on your own for the labyrinth, pretty much; but I’m gonna help out with the level boss and his mobs. Ghnash says they can be a little spicy.”

  /

  In the distant, or perhaps very nearby, on the Madman’s moon, Ghnash the goblin king sat back in the bath and sighed with satisfaction. “Yub-yub… That’s much better.”

  “I disagree, mortal.” The sulky deity grumbled at his diminutive captor.

  “Dude, you spent your entire existence covered in absurd armor, blood and body oil. Try not being a disgusting mess for a while, it might change your perspective.” The goblin king grinned at his divine frenemy. “We need to change your look and attitude, if you want my people to embrace you. We don’t need a hyper-macho sword slinging god of war; there’s enough of that toxic masculinity going around already.” The mad green monster giggled merrily. “We need a shielding hand, a guide and protector god… We need the best parts of you and you need us, if you want to ever get back where you belong.”

  “Where I… Belong?” He asked, the mighty, thunderous voice of War suddenly fallen to a soft plaintive murmur.

  “My sweet, divine lady Thirp, the blessed Spider-Boobs spans a few domains with her cult. So too does Marduk, the divine Smarty-Pants, he touches this world and another! Why then, should you not be able to return… once you are fit for duty.” The king grumbled at the god, before reaching over and ruffling the giant man’s hair fondly. “I will be having sons soon. Would you want your children to be guided by someone like you?”

  The small man dragged his god from the bath and briskly toweled him off, since the eternal lord of War didn’t quite grasp the concept of bathing, yet. Ghnash draped a simple robe of soft, brown cotton over the deity and swiftly combed his hair, standing on a ladder that vanished as soon as he stepped away, in order to reach the sacred curls. “Huh… Not bad, buddy!” The king grunted, plucked at the simple, brown robe draped over his clean, freshly scrubbed form, took his god by the hand and led him from the garden baths.

  “All this primping and preening is unmanly…” The being complained weakly, following the much smaller man obediently, despite his grumbling.

  “Dude! Seriously?” Ghnash shook his head and glared back at his “Come on, it’s time you met the others in our little pantheon and a few old friends of mine. Be on your best behavior… These are beings whose opinions I respect.”

  Beyond the screening hedge, a few beings lingered in the garden, conversing in small groups or wandering on their own errands. Most of the figures were nebulous, shady and dim… drifting spectres seen clearly only from the corners of one’s eyes. When viewed directly, they faded into a nebulous sameness and became indistinct figures of almost tangible shadow, each one engaged with some mysterious, inscrutable business of their own.

  Marduk, Eponna and a few other divines lounged in flower draped bowers or on the brightly starlit lawns, watching the jewel-like insects scurry about among the blooms and enjoying the music of a diverse flock of spectral songbirds haunting the trees. He scoffed softly at the sight of the divines and shades in the garden. “These lesser lights are all you have gathered? This hardly makes a pantheon!”

  “Quality and care are the primary ingredients we’re looking for… and some spice, as well.” Ghnash mumbled smugly. “You’re here to meet my newest friend, Baba Yaga, eternal witch of the wastelands.” He declared with a smile of wicked delight. “She offered me a Contract last night and I accepted; that leaves only one spot open, now that you and I are such close pals.”

  “Baba Yaga? The Crone of the woods?” He asked, confusion scrawled across his face in broad, childish strokes. “You are a warrior and king… Why would you bind yourself to the Crone?”

  “I’m also a witch, pal. I always have been. We can be more than just one thing, so can you… believe it or not. That’s where Baba Yaga can help. She’s got much more experience in dealing directly with mortals and can help you understand what you’re going to be going through, during our time together.”

  /