Ch: 138 Bubbles In The Wine
As soon as the fog cleared, most of the troop of misfits and their confused, but deeply curious new friends sailed out to the scene.
The cat woman and the lancer with the amazing ‘stache stayed behind, to mind the children and house, as did two knights, one of War and another from Order. The rest of the crew piled into the slightly crowded boat and shoved off.
The redhaired smith girl steered, with the brown haired man sitting on her feet and smiling, while she ran her fingers through his hair.
“Is it just me, or have you gotten even better at that?” He mumbled quietly.
“Thirp hae given me some insights, she hae surprising depths, that one.” Shai cooed softly, enjoying his warmth on her feet and sailing in the morning sunshine.
In a few short minutes, the glint of the sun on that obscene bottle shone across the bay. They motored up to a sandy slip, just a few dozen yards from the thing and nosed the boat in gently.
Gary pulled a couple long poles out of his backside and drove them into the sand with a pile driver, for a temporary mooring. With the boat secured in the gentle waves, they splashed ashore as a group, terribly close to the thing.
“How are we this close to it? Do you have some warding gift or spell?” Herve asked, confused and startled.
“Yeah… that’s it. ‘Cause otherwise, it must be that you have been exposed to some strange emanations, which make this poor soul’s cry of despair feel like a spring breeze.” The strangely forgettable man said with an odd smile. “That seems unlikely.”
“He’s waited long enough, let’s get to work.” He strolled over, in his weird lobster armor and examined the thing minutely, at least, as much as was visible. The tiny girls, both pale and dark, joined him, discussing the thing in an animated way. The smith woman watched nervously from nearby as he circled it without touching.
Mostly sunken in the mud and shallow water, the portion of the jar above the surface was clean, bright and unblemished. The poured bronze seal was as shiny as new burnished metal. Aside from the size and contents, it was simply a huge apothecaries’ jar.
“Yeah, this thing is awful. The seal was cast while he was dying, trapping his soul halfway in and halfway out. It’s all written in the metal, while it was still molten… The harder he struggles to escape, the tighter he pulls the thing together.” The fellow muttered, still splashing around in the mud and muck around it. The women were clever enough to stay on the banks.
“Dinnae touch that thing ‘ere Luna hae a good look, get thee back ashore.” Shai called, waving a musical instrument at him for some reason. “I hae Liam tae filch all the instruments ye took wi ye today. An ye wish a guitar, ye must dance fit tae please sweet Shai!”
The man complained and grumbled good naturedly as the Fist looked on in confusion. “We’re standing right here, somebody just smash that thing with a rock.” Bronwynn shouted down from the bank.
“Won’t work, that poor fellow’s soul is stitched and wound through that jar’s crystalline structure, if you attack it, you attack him and he can’t not defend himself. The harder you attack that jar, the stronger it will get.”
The brown haired… Gary, why was his name and face so forgettable? He kept climbing up the slick muddy bank to rejoin his crew.
Luna removed her eyepatch and gave the awful container a thorough look over. She stared for a few long seconds before shaking her head in disgust.
“It’s the same kind of shit as the cult, killed just like those porters. The jar makes no sense to me, but the markings on him are familiar from our giant ballsack. No clothes, no visible tattoos or distinguishing marks, no chance of finding out who he was.”
“Well, hardly any chance, once we pull off a jailbreak, he might stick around to talk. Can’t tell till he’s free.” The fellow said cheerily. “Let me know when I can get started.” He walked behind a bush and came out the other side wearing common clothing and holding a camp chair. He sat down and smiled, like he was at a picnic.
Herve stepped forward, addressing Liam and the rest. “This was our contract first, we’d like to take a crack at it if you don’t mind.”
“This is a pickup job, as a favor to a good friend, as long as it gets done…” The young warrior shrugged.
“Remember what I said, you can’t break it with force.” The guy in the camp chair with his pipe and a blanket called.
“Whatever, can we borrow that piledriver from your boat?” Bronwynn asked, cracking her knuckles and smiling.
“Bad Idea!” The weirdo shouted from his chair, somewhere in a cloud of sweet smelling smoke.
“Should we stop them?” Liam asked quietly.
“I dunno, they won’t break in though, not with force, I guarantee it. I doubt it can hurt them at all. There are a lot of restraints and bonds built into that jar and seal. Nothing of him can get out, but that aura and moan.”
He reached into his backside and passed Liam a massive sledge hammer. “They can use that… just be sure to tell them it’s not a good idea.”
After a brief conversation with Liam, Bronwynn, their heavy fighter took the sledge with a whoop of joy. She was a tall, burly, blonde with her hair braided into a compact plait under her helm. She was all business in the field, a solid, steady and serious warrior.
Armed with a ten pound iron sledge, bearing the finest case hardened steel faces Shai’s arts could produce under Gary’s influence, the sturdy veteran warrior took a firm stance and shook it out.
“Stand a couple yards to the right, you’ll have a clear shot at it there…” Luna called to her comrade in War.
She waved her thanks and shifted her angle of attack a few degrees. With one foot on a mangrove root and the other on the shoulder of that ghastly bottle, she began slow, deep breaths. The mighty woman gathered her internal forces, swaying the terrible, half enchanted hammer back and forth to warm up. The brawny warrior put it all on the line, teeing off on the lid, right at the seam.
The hammer flashed down and struck with a high, sharp, crystalline chime. The hammer stopped dead, neither bouncing back, nor vibrating, it simply halted and fell to the ground, splatting into the mud.
Bronwyyn flew off soundlessly, as though plucked from the earth by some great invisible bird. She began to wail in terror a few yards into her flailing, tumbling flight.
“Can she swim?” Gary asked her stunned commander. When he didn't answer he stood with a sigh and began running for the shore. By the time he hit the water’s edge and dove off the bank, he was in his red booty shorts again, garnering delighted whoops from Shai.
They watched the warrior splash down, a good thirty yards out, with Gary just diving in after. “You know he’s not really a strong swimmer, right?” Becky reminded them gently. “She outweighs me like four times, I can’t help.”
“Bugger!” Shai barked, as she began to run and vanish her clothing. “Tallum, we may need thee!” She was nude when she dove in, not having Gary’s ‘hangups’ about things like that. Gary had fifteen yards on her and was swimming well, reaching the barely twitching form of Bronwynn quickly.
Shai joined him as he rolled her over and checked her breathing. “She’s ok, just stunned I think, hold her up please, I have a thing…”
When she had the semi conscious woman in her arms, Gary reached under water and fished out a canvas package. He quickly unfolded it under the floating woman and pulled a cord.
In seconds the canvas mass inflated into a small raft, bobbing the stunned warrior to the surface neatly. “Balloon vines… I love ‘em.” He grinned and began awkwardly swimming for shore, towing his little boat behind. “Good thing she’s in leather, that was an impressive flight!” Together they got her ashore, stunned, confused, waterlogged and nearly immobile.
While Tawny checked her over, Gary and Liam opened the boat up and removed the sprouted nest of balloon vines, scattering them among the mangroves.
“We put new soil packets in the boat body, once it’s washed and dried, then it’s ready to go again.” He enthused, while planting his vines.
#
Somehow the kids had all the comforts needed for a pleasant camp in their gear, including a samovar and full tea service… by third bell, lunch was cooking, Gary and Shai were dressed and Bronwynn was rolled in a blanket under a shady willow bower with her armor brushed free of sand and hung on a bush to dry as best they could.
“That was a good try, sergeant Herve. Don’t feel too bad, if you could drop a mountain on it from a mile up, you’d get a big jar buried in gravel. Only something that could destroy a soul, could break that bottle…” He started spreading soft goat cheese on a slice of hot, crusty toast, lounging in his chair.
“Nothing can destroy a soul, throw that in a volcano, you will have an extinct volcano before that thing gets warm… A friend of mine makes this cheese, you should try some.”
#
Gary obstinately refused to leave the little camp, until he got his instruments back from ‘The Mean Pickpocket Lady’.
“I need my instruments to work and I need to be able to work in peace. If you guys think you can solve this… go ahead, I’ma be over here.” He took a seat on a rock over by a reedy stream, with his back to the group. “Let me know when you want my help.”
Shai sat down on a stone nearby to keep an eye on her boy, watching him and her comrades who were still lingering and debating.
After a solid half hour of idle whittling with his Contract weapon in the shape of a small knife, a thin, high, piping whistle rose over the mangroves.
Gary kept his gifts bottled up tight, like their new friend, as he stepped lightly in a simple dance while playing his river reed panflute.
Shai stomped over in frustration, with Tawny and Liam in tow. When he took the simple pipes from his lips and smiled benignly, the three knew what was coming.
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“Frustrating, isn’t it?” He asked sweetly, with a delighted twinkle in his mad eyes. “I’m not gonna be an ass… today, this is work time!” He hopped to his feet and held a hand out to his lady.
“You know what I need for this job. You can hear it in his song…” He took the instrument and kissed her on the cheek. “I don’t take away your toys miss Shai…” He whispered, just for her.
“Gods, boy, dinnae pitch woo wi in sight of a bottled nightmare, tis unseemly and weirdly hot.” Her violin appeared right on time, following his lead with a smile.
Together they strolled over by the vessel, tuning up. “Becky, we could use your help on this one, don’t try and make him manifest, just relax and come along for the ride.”
Together, they advanced on the jar from the shore side. No matter what angle or approach anyone took, the awful, sightless eyes always faced the living person closest to the thing.
“His own soul and Animus have been bound up in this construct, pulling his aura and soul out of shape. That makes him think that the jar is his body and soul, rather than a prison. If we carefully unbind those enchantments and spells, he will break himself free.”
“How will you do that?” Pri’ann was a beautiful and leggy woman with a long lance and a quiver of slender javelins, she was also pretty skeptical of the crazy kids.
“There’s a lot of strings of him wound through that thing, under terrible tension. That’s kinda my thing, strings under tension…”
He strummed and plucked, drawing the two women into his strange, lilting song. Ivy’s snare began to tap and rasp softly, keeping a steady beat.
This is the day of the expanding man
That shape is my shade
There where I used to stand
It seems like only yesterday
I gazed through the glass
At ramblers, wild gamblers
That's all in the past…
Becky and Shai crooned backup and followed his slow shuffling dance, side to side, back and forth. Their instruments were gentle and plaintive, a soft invitation to the dance they shared.
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blue
*Deacon Blue*
This is the night of the expanding man
I take one last drag as I approach the stand
I cried when I wrote this song
Sue me if I play too long
This brother is free
I'll be what I want to be…
There was no visible change, but the entity’s wail of sorrow and pain slowly modulated, finding key and rhythm with the small group of musicians. As the song wound down, they kept the outro rolling for a bit.
“Come on gang, don’t be sulky, join in.” He called to the young Adventurers back in camp.
“Nope, not Steely Dan.” Liam said flatly, Tallum nodded sheepishly along. “Pick something else… that werewolf song maybe?”
“We gotta get you over your fear of jazz rock. Let’s try something different.”
The girls stilled their strings, as he began picking a melancholy, yet hopeful stream of notes and chords. Ivy fell in line, tapping a closed hi hat and snare, with a cowbell on the downbeat.
Tallum wrestled mightily with the complex, intermittent bass line, getting it under control a few bars in with a little help from Ivy. Dannyl’s spanky rhythm guitar work got ‘Under The Bridge’ going at full speed.
Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner,
Sometimes I feel like my only friend…
Is the city I live in, the city of angels.
Lonely as I am, together we cry…
Their sweet, hopeful, melancholy song wound up tight, then slowly drifted off, pulling them into another soft contemplative instrumental jam.
“Too bad Amy’s not here… I’d like to hear her crack that thing… We've been working on the killing words.” He cackled madly. while they slowly drifted into another song.
“Dinnae be teachin’ my Amy yer weirding ways boy, tis nae meet that a child’s voice should spark fires nor heat metal objects!” Shai snapped, though her heart wasn't in it.
Becky helped him out, the dear child. “She already learned those harmonic vowels by herself, that’s why we started vocal lessons… He only taught her the stone splitting consonants to balance her out. Better she learns control early.”
“I’d hoped she wouldn’t start so soon, but you heard it too…” He looked up to the rest of his bandmates. “Hey, guys how about we get the whole group over here, this project is gonna be done tomorrow morning, I think.”
“Kin we bring the wee ones so close tae this?” Shai’s dance was tentative, almost cautious; that was unlike her.
“He’s ok, whatever part of him is still sane in there, has at least some idea that we are here to help. Even so, nothing but that aura can escape.” He sighed deeply.
“I’m afraid that hanging out with me has made them kinda unafraid of the undead.” He took a few minutes to chew on that one, while roaming around in the main hook to ‘Genie In A Bottle’.
Becky and Liam took the boat back, to collect the rest and get the herd stampeding up the Coast Road. Poor Becky was pretty wrung out by the time she got back, with her passengers.
Liam and Tallum helped the exhausted pilot tie up to a mangrove, while Gary and Shai switched gears and began summoning home.
“We should have twenty minutes til the riders get here, Annie promised to give us some extra time…” Becky grunted, from his camp chair. She sagged into it like an old steelworker after a double shift. “Amy, love, get me a mug of ginger beer… I’m spent.”
Becky was tucked into a wing chair by the fire, in robe and slippers, hot cocoa in hand before the horses and ponies thundered up to the gate. They came trotting up in formation, without regard for the haunt in the jug.
The home rested on a wide, sandy dune above the haunt’s small lagoon. Their landlord’s bottle was trapped in the roots of a mighty mangrove tree at the shore.
The tree’s roots were impinging on the roadway, so after a brief discussion with Liam and Khan about Adventure law and where that intersected tree law, he got approval.
“All right Tallum! Let’s cut this tree.” The house’s new area of influence included the tree and bottle without being uncomfortably close. The diffuse nature of the strange effect made the ghost jar react very little, if at all.
The thing still wailed, but now it was a soft, peaceful sound. Its dead, cloudy eyes still followed the nearest living person to the glassy prison.
The two men set to work, using simple tools and human ingenuity to drop the large tree down inside his zone, without hitting any of their stuff. Dannyl and Liam jumped in on the task, lopping off boughs and limbs, processing the smaller stuff for firewood and stacking the leaves and sticks in an open space for burning.
Gary and Tallum used a two man saw to cut the log into manageable lengths and stowed in his drying racks in the rafters of the workshop.
#
“Ok, are we ready to crack this one open?” He eyed his gathered team and got no calls to stop, so he hopped up on the stump and looped a long rope around the huge glass knob on the stopper.
The other end, he ran over and looped around Annie’s saddle horn. “ Pull on that when I call love… you’re the best.” He gave her a good scratch on the ears, before running back to the mangrove stump.
He pulled Shai’s murder shovel out and inserted it in between the glass stopper and brazen dribble, with a quick stomp and a twist, the bronze seal cracked with a musical chime and fell to the mud. He waved at his horsie friend and mighty Annie hauled the lid off with a soft, sucking pop.
“Ohh! That’s why he’s still fresh… he’s not pickled in brine or vinegar… that’s pure alcohol, or nearly pure.” Gary called as he backed away from the fumes. “Stay back, it’s not a pretty smell.”
His first touch of the bottle held some scant clues:
Reliquary Cell, enchanted object. Use unclear, container, relay, array component.
Dipping a single finger in the stuff brought more questions than answers.
Agua Muerte, distilled spirit, infused spirit, necromantic contagion, vector of undeath, toxic, intoxicant, unclean.
With the lid off and the sun slowly sinking, Gary strolled back over to his family and their new friends. “Gotta let that breathe a little, it’s an old vintage.” He chuckled grimly.
“No, really, he’s been in there so long he needs some time to let go and a catalyst. I’ll give him that boost he needs after sundown.”
They had a quiet dinner, very quiet, until Linus mentioned it. “The moaning, it stopped…”
“Yeah, that aura was the result of a soul, trying to expand and evaporate into the ether, but bottled up and enclosed. That empowered his aura and gaze, along with whatever that thing was supposed to be hooked up to.” He scratched his tummy with satisfaction.
“Once the lid was off, he started relaxing and winding down. Give him some time to cool off, once he’s not so volatile, we’ll have a chat and send him toddling along.”
#
“I don’t see any other way to dispose of this thing. We can’t just tip him into the sea… even if we fish most of him out, that’s a lot of cursed liquor of undeath to just pour into the ocean.” He shuddered and sang a short snippet over his rumbling guitar.
History shows again and again,
How nature points out the folly of man!
Godzilla!
“Nae! Nae that one boy!” Shai snapped, eyes crackling with fury, as his friends looked on in concern.
“None of that, running naked and chanting through the woods once was enough.” Liam shouldered up to his woman with a similar scowl of displeasure.
“What’s a ‘Godzilla’?” Becky asked, now that her curiosity was simmering. “I’ve heard that term used in some of your other ‘media’... usually in the context of some judgment or vengeance from nature, if context can be relied on… is this a clue?”
“If my people have one thing clearly understood, it’s this, if you keep fucking around with nature, something is going to come fuck back.” He kept playing softly, though he changed his tune to something gentle and uplifting.
“We had some bad experiences with industrial and chemical waste products getting dumped in places by idiots. I’ll get you a few movies tonight, the original Godzilla nineteen fifty four and theToxic Avenger should do it.”
#
A nice longshore breeze took the fumes off, as the sun went down. Gary and Shai set tables up on the dune grass outside the wall, as though for a spectacle. Sundown over the shallow sea was splendid, rich pink and orange lights shimmering as the sun vanished at last.
“Would have been a nicer view if that tree was still there.” Dannyl remarked, from behind his easel. “Now I have to use artistic license.”
“If the tree was still there, the next step would be too chaotic and unpredictable.” Gary sassed, as he stood and strolled down to the tree stump and the open mouth of the reliquary, still lodged among the roots. As he walked, his lobster armor appeared piece by piece.
He hopped up on the stump and held out his left hand in triumph, aiming his open palm at the mouth of the jar. He grinned as he barked out the simple forge lighting cantrip that even one contract first week apprentices learn.
A few sparks and a rather unimpressive sputtering flame flared momentarily, then died. The mad boy ducked away and fled, vanishing his armor away quickly. “Need to increase the heat resistance…” He muttered.
“What heat…? Nothing happened, boy.” Herve grumbled from the disgruntled table the Fist shared, drinking rather good homebrewed beer morosely.
“Give it a minute, the show should start when the liquid level drops enough for the corpse to start…” A faint blue glow began, in the gathering mist. For some reason, the mist declined to approach the bottle, swirling and fading away about ten yards out.
Above the mouth of the jar a faint flickering appeared, as though a huge, ghostly blue candle flame were leaping from the sacrificial urn. “Stay back guys, the heat will be dangerous just past the mist line… feel it?”
The fickle wind no longer carried the sharp aroma of strange liquor and death’s decay held in abeyance. Now it bore a spreading warmth and spicy scent.
A small pink spark shot without warning, from the lidless aperture, flying into the starry sky above. Up among the stars it dwindled, then burst in a spray of golden sparkles. Mere moments later a blue streak of light whistled straight up, warbling as it described a tight spiral in its flight. It detonated with a sharp report and a short flurry of crackling silver sparks.
“Ooooh!” Gary cooed breathlessly, as he began strumming a slow swaying melody. Soon the kids, and then the rest of the Bathers were letting out gusty ‘Ahhhs’ and awestruck ‘Oohhs’ with each colorful burst from the volatile cadaver.
“I was only expecting a colorful flame… this is so much better!” He shouted in absolute joy, over the percussive blast of a huge ball of fire flying into the sky.
#
“Trouble down the Coast Road, where that haunt has been causing trouble. Farmers report some kind of battle…” Lubu grumbled to the Guildmaster.
“This should go to War first then, they have a team there.” He snapped.
“Mercenaries, they won’t send another troop unless they get a request for aid from the mercs. This request comes from that goatherd the kid befriended, it’s just a few miles from their place. I guess they can hear the fighting and see the flames.”
“All right, who do we have?” Haviland asked, hoping for a good answer.
“Just the damn ducklings.” He grumbled sourly.
“Who do we have to supervise them?” Haviland asked, fixing the old man with a very unpleasant gaze. Lubu found his sandals endlessly fascinating for a good long while.
When he finally looked back up the guildmaster was smiling. “Excellent, they couldn’t be in better hands, I want them all back intact, Lubu.”
“I never liked you, not when you were a duckling yourself… and certainly not now.” He complained half-heartedly. “I suppose I could do with a bit of exercise.”
#
The fist were still sulky and slightly buzzed, distracting them from a once in a lifetime fireworks show.
“If you weren’t throwing a wake for your poor dead contract over there, you might have noticed… I said there were probably more out there. We can’t stop to investigate, we are due home in just about a week.” Gary grumbled at the party poopers.
“We’ve got this ducal signet special for the whole job, but we only did the first part. We were talking about subcontracting to you.” Liam added, still fixated on the lights and sounds.
“Wow! Look Amy! Blue and silver!” Rio chattered happily. As they watched, a huge puff of flaming fumes rolled into a massive smoke ring. It rose slowly, swirling and twisting into an elaborate torus of pale blue flame, before puffing out.
More flaming sparks shot out, bursting in crackling sheets of pink and red lightning above the bay.
The kids went to bed at a decent hour, though Shai found them passed out together in a pile when she went up to bed at midnight.
The three rascals were in a bed, pushed under a window overlooking the fireworks show. Pillows had been piled up to make a comfy and concealed viewing nest.
“Brats…” She whispered fondly, while tucking her brats in properly.
“Mmm… Now I get to tuck you in…” Her boy grumbled happily, embracing her from behind. “The Fist offered to stay up watching Wicklow finish burning out. They are gonna be heading back out here to snoop around for where that jar came from.”
The tired woman just accepted his pet name for the bottled cadaver, currently setting the sky ablaze out on the bay.
“Dinnae talk business now boy… we hae other matters at hand.” She took those matters in hand and used them to lead him to the private baths for a rigorous cleaning. “...‘ere I filthy thee up again.” She growled, wielding a loofa aggressively.
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