Ch: 148 Mean, Green Mother F…
Rumors were flying as thick as marsh flies already, the romantic tale of a tragic baroness, denied her true love by her infertility was highly combustible. Her political marriage to an influential count in a nearby domain had ended with his untimely death in a monster hunt shortly after their wedding.
The young, barren widow, unable to inherit and rule her own lands or her husband’s by both law and tradition, was tragic again, houseless and unlanded.
The only thing more combustible in the gossip engine would be scandal… Lady Jaspreet, the tragic widow, was discrete, circumspect and clever in her personal life.
She was also fully aware that her scandalous affair with the equally scandalous bachelor duke, was never and could never truly remain secret.
Abed neither confirmed nor denied their relationship, when pressed on it in public or private, meeting such inquiries with a cold stoney gaze.
Those who felt bold enough to ask, seldom felt the urge to ask again. The duke’s subtle and not entirely ethical response was usually to have his bureaucrats audit the taxes of whatever noble or merchant dared be so forward.
Similarly, those who the lady Jaspreet found difficult to deflect or discourage, would often find their financials called into question.
In Wheatford, such methods were unavailable and seemed unneeded, so far. Tawny and Jaspreet found themselves the targets of polite curiosity and genuine interest, from the common people of the town.
Perhaps because there were so many Belen’s wandering the streets in clerical robes, Penitent’s veils or false mustaches… Yet another well dressed ‘commoner’ in a silly disguise was not interesting in and of itself.
Together the women moved and mingled through the crowd, escorted by a fearsome warrior in elaborate puma armor.
Liam had his helm and menpo stored, likewise his spear was stashed away in the storage gift he inherited from his weird brother. It felt odd, having those things tucked inside himself… the sensation was strange and oddly satisfying.
Because his gift was somehow related to Gary’s, he could only access it by reaching back, as though his butt dimples were pockets he could reach into. It was a little embarrassing, until Otho taught him some entertaining sleight of hand tricks.
With a subtle flourish, Liam produced the coins to purchase the ladies yet more snacks. A short cascade of iron and copper bits tumbled between and across his fingers, distracting the vendor from the place he pulled the money from.
Munching on a shawarma and grinning as though the world was dancing to her tune, Jaspreet skipped across to the fried dough stand, eyeing the cherry and maple fritters hungrily.
“Liam, be a dear and get us some of these too…” She sang.
“I see the new fashion of wearing bells has taken off here as well!” The happy, dancing woman called to Tawny, who was feeling uncomfortably full, after dutifully snacking along with the ravenous lady.
She stamped her foot, making her own strand of bronze bells chime merrily around her ankle.
Many of the local women and girls wore strands of bells, whether on sashes, cords, or sewn to their skirts. They jingled and chimed throughout the town, creating cheerful, tinkling background music.
“We are always interested in the latest fashions… Tawny replied blandly, while passing her order of fried dough off to an orphan child, hustling chalk drawings nearby.
The child winked and vanished with his prize, slipping away to one of the many clusters of colorful kids lingering in the market.
“Now where is this supposed ‘temple of Knowledge’, Tawny… this is all very entertaining, but I must meet up with Abed, lest he find some trouble to get into… Men, such a trial to manage.” She sang loudly, while eying Liam with a knowing smile.
“If I leave him to his own devices, who knows what trouble he could get into?”
#
Baron Timarch Holloman was wet, itchy, uncomfortable and ready to find a bath, a bed and a suit of dry clothes. Riding down the winding mountain road had seemed a fine plan, he could have arrived quietly, without his obnoxious brother rubbing his lofty rank in everyone’s faces.
A freak storm made the pleasant little adventure into a slow, messy slog through slippery and muddy roads. Add in a surprise minor monster and things were less than ideal.
It was only a trapjaw ant hive, the strange insect plant hybrid had spread from a meadow onto the road and had to be slain before they could move on in good conscience.
After an hour of pruning the thing back with swords and spears, his guard captain finally closed with the beast, while his troops struggled to hold off the legion of biting, sharp toothed flowers and entangling thorny vines.
Leroy was nearing the end of his indenture and it showed. With clean and economical movements, he stepped through the twining, entangling plant’s defenses.
Slipping from one clear space to another, with his sword flicking here and there to sever any vegetal appendages that moved to intercept him; he was poetry in motion.
He reached the center of the meadow and in a space clear of any life, he faced the creature in its bed of muddy, barren soil.
The monster herb bug hybrid was rooted in the soil by a long, thick, flexible stalk. Rather than bark, it was sheathed in jointed plates of insect chitin and studded liberally with razor edged thorns. Lesser, unarmored tendrils waved all around, brandishing spiked seed pods, clusters of thorns or more snapping flower jaws.
“Stay well back, my lord… this one is feisty and uncommonly large! It seems to have rooted in a particularly rich plot of soil… perhaps something magical is in play as well.” The small warrior shrugged and continued his intricate dance of flashing blades.
“In any case…” He sang as he worked, viciously pruning and trimming the wicked plant. “...this should not delay my lord’s travel much. Would that we brought a mage to harvest this thing… it seems very…”
He paused his sing-song cadence, to snip off a vine, covered with a huge array of tiny flowers, each one a snapping, toothy mouth, eager to grab and chew flesh.
“Gods!” He shouted in surprise and pain, when another of the sucker covered vines erupted from the dark, black soil, to wrap around his leg below the knee.
More of the abominable vines crawled over his guards, tearing at their armor and mindlessly thrashing at them with thorns and jaws. Those undirected appendages kept his rank and file warriors busy, while the beast assaulted Leroy with its full fury.
Steel flashed and sang in the morning light, ringing out with each strike and parry. Leroy’s elegant and disciplined dance began to turn the tide, as one vine after another fell to the ground, thrashing briefly as its sap ran out to stain the soil. No small measure of blood joined the earth that his troops churned beneath their boots.
When Annalie went down, her head completely enclosed in an enormous fanged flower, things took a sour turn.
Travis took a full strike to the back from one of the poinky spiked seedpods and went flying, when he heard her muffled scream and got distracted.
He landed in a crumpled, bleeding heap near his lord, gasping, with his back bristling with sharp spines.
Stunned and paralyzed by the sudden turnabout, baron Holloman could only watch as his valet, Kenny screamed and began scrambling for the carriage, parked a discreet distance away.
Leroy, swept in, taking a blow from one of the thrashing tentacle vines. He dropped his elusive and precise dance, in favor of hacking at the stalk of the thing with brute force.
The small, agile warrior took a few moments to hack the tough, armored taproot off, ending the danger… The cost was high though.
Annalie was badly injured, she had received a number of puncture wounds around her throat, all of which bled freely, but thankfully none spurted with arterial spray… yet. The poor wretch had been nearly strangled as well, by the time they got her face cut free of the leathery, but strangely beautiful flower mouth. She would be out of action until they reached the temple of Healer in Wheatford.
Travis was in similarly poor shape. Whatever toxin lurked in those spines had him pale, trembling and disoriented, despite his actual injuries being less severe. Just a few broken ribs, lacerations and blunt force trauma, he deserved no less for his failure... as long as he survived anyway…
Leroy came back battered and bleeding but still fit for duty. Once Chad patched him up with a few crude bandages and a bit of campfire ash to stop the bleeding.
With two of his guard out of action and his captain injured, baron Holloman had to beat Kenny for his cowardice himself.
“This hurts me far more than it does you Kenny!” He grumbled as he plied his riding crop on the fool boy.
“Humiliating, but at least no one is around to see my shame… go see Chad for you back. And no sulking!”
Leroy came over to interrupt his lunch, with hat in hand. Before the man could speak, the baron cut him off.
“I suppose you want to have Travis and Annalie ride in my coach… very well, though their performance was less than stellar. I expect better from them in the future, I shudder to think what will become of them, when your indenture ends…” The baron muttered quietly.
“Have you reconsidered remaining in my service? For your comrade’s sake if nothing else?” He asked with a smile.
“Best we wait here, my lord… We could reach Wheatford by evening if we push on, but Annalie will likely rupture a major artery if we travel... I’d like to send Orlando riding ahead for medical aid…” Leroy said calmly, giving no clue of his intent.
“Very well, give the order.” The baron sighed.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Ten minutes later the team was unhitched with the baron jammed uncomfortably into his immobile coach, between the two injured Adventurers.
At least they were largely quiet letting out only the occasional moan or gasp as the rest prepared to camp.
#
Gary was slowly spreading over his whole territory, letting the crawling, faintly unwholesome feeling of hunger and territory skulk and slither all around. Every animate being in the boundary of his home and garden received that unseen, unfelt touch.
Tasting, testing, savoring their auras in ways that felt predatory and sly, he got a general, if vague idea of the intent of those entities, through the strange, unclean tendrils.
Friends, family and acquaintances were touched, tasted and then ignored, mostly. His Entrainment gift was slowly ticking over in the background… subtly influencing everyone in his territory, through those sly threads of instinct and will.
Several of his instruments were being played in the house, as well as a number of dancing locals wearing their imitations of Shai’s sweet booty bells…
Their jingling hips were obviously not hers, but they kept his subconscious mind thinking about those lucious, swaying, chiming, pale…
He was briefly interrupted in his shallow dream, when a horseman rode up at a punishing clip, hauling his exhausted mount to a stop outside his gate. Good thing Shai wasn’t here, or that guy would be in trouble, treating a horse like that…
That thought reminded him of the sweet, luminous white, dimpled moon, swaying below her bells…
The man charged into his house in a fury, the stranger’s distressed aura drawing Gary’s attention from his meditations again. When the man’s boots hit his floor, that was enough. He felt the hobnails in the angry stranger’s soles, digging into the floorboards, all the way out here.
A meadowlark and two starlings kept his music going, as Gary ran through his tangled woods and orchards like a wild man, headed for his front door.
#
Tawny and Jaspreet were just walking up to that wondrous inn, with its expansive gardens; when a horseman pummeled his poor beast to a halt and ran pell mell though the front door, shouting for a healer.
“Sadly, duty calls, I must leave you in my friend’s care until whatever this is, can be resolved.” Tawny said quickly, as she called over the tiny woman in white.
“Solange, my dear, could you see to my auntie, she has come to see Becky about some spiritual matters. I must away to a medical emergency.”
The delicate and miniscule lady took Jaspreet’s hand in hers with a smile. “Come along, mortal child, I had been hoping to speak with you myself in any case…” She cooed in excitement and pleasure.
“That which grows within you, is as much a blessing to my kind as to you, yourself. You will come to meet many of my sisters, before you come into full flower and bear fruit…”
Her mein changed suddenly, gripping the lady’s hand more strongly. “The living-dead-boy is coming back… and he’s upset, let’s get you someplace nice and safe before he gets here…”
Before she really knew what was happening, Lady Jaspreet Hind, soon to be Duchess of Shiraz was bobbing contentedly among a flotilla of very pregnant women in the private baths.
#
Gary came stampeding up looking both furious and curious at once. Tallum already had the poor horse in hand, leading the heaving, exhausted creature in a slow circle around the yard to the public bath for a healing, refreshing dip.
The rider was facing Tawny, spattered with mud, blood and other things, dripping them onto his now battered and stained floor.
“This is a medical emergency Gary, I’d say, none of your nonsense, but I think you will be helpful. Get ready to ride… whatever that thing you ride is. We are heading up the Port Ellis road to tend injured warriors. Come along, you too Liam.”
Journeyman Adventurer Orlando had an equestrian gift from the god of Beasts, but had been Contracted to War at his Resilience instead. He arrived, more swiftly than any mortal horse could carry him… at great cost to his poor mount.
“Please, end Cricket's suffering humanely… She was a good horse…” The man sobbed, as he saddled Peony from Gary’s stable.
“I can return us to my injured comrades swiftly, but your mounts will perish… I’m sorry… My curse is terribly useful… in times like these.” He kept apologizing to the horses as he worked… and weeping.
“Be at ease, my companions will tend your mount. Please restrain your ‘curse’, Gary will see to speeding our travel.” Tawny said firmly, sitting astride Magnus. Liam trotted out in full panoply, riding Winslow as Gary wheeled his latest ‘stick horse’ out. Luna rode up on Annie, completing the small troop, as they rode out the gate.
Gary’s strange gift swept them up in fanciful birdsong, lifting the hooves and putting them down in ways the horses were very familiar with.
Poor Orlando, still fraught with guilt and grief, along with worry for his companions hardly realized how swiftly things were moving. It was a solid four miles before he realized that one of the party was riding an inanimate construct.
The device propelled him up the mountain road in silence, save for his constant warbling whistle and the small flock of songbirds flying alongside.
#
It would no doubt take hours of hard riding for aid to reach the scene and in the meantime Annalie had deteriorated considerably. Despite Chad’s best efforts she had continued to bleed and her breathing was ragged and shallow.
Travis had slipped unconscious and developed a gray cast to his face, but otherwise looked little worse.
Some venom in the bites had Leroy looking poorly as well.
“My lord, someone approaches, from the direction of Wheatford. Emmie says they are moving fast, which means Orlando is probably with them.”
“How long until they arrive?” Baron Holloman demanded sharply.
“Minutes my lord.” He sighed, sinking to a seat on a fallen tree in defiance of protocol.
“Very well, perhaps something can be salvaged from this debacle.” The lord grumbled, before calling out. “Kenny, more wine!”
A few minutes and a half a bottle of Port Sunderland red later, a small group rode into view. “Lady Trelawny… My deepest apologies for forcing you to ride out here…”
She rode her plump little golden pony right past his camp table and chairs, she didn’t even stop to receive his courtesies. Instead she hustled over to where Leroy was holding open the door to his coach and waving urgently.
“Duty calls baron Timarch… Liam, assist me, Gary, see to any minor wounds while we work.”
Orlando tumbled from his mount, pale, exhausted and gasping for breath. A one eyed woman dismounted from a massive brown horse and patted him gently.
“Keep breathing boy, just breathe your way through… everything is cultivation.”
Golden Tawny and her armored escort vanished into his coach while a dullard in red armor saw to Leroy and the others.
He kneaded small wads of violet wax, until it became a slick, snotty mess, before smearing it onto their bites and bruises. Relief followed immediately after, soothing bruises and sore muscles, while waves of pleasant feeling washed over the warriors.
“I’m all done out here… how’s it going in there?” The fool asked, rapping on the open carriage door gently. “Should I start drawing a bath?” He asked, inanely.
The handsome warrior stuck his head out and nodded tersely, before disappearing again. “Please.” Was all he said.
“All right!” The idiot barked, waving at Chad. “Hey bro, cover me for a minute while I work on something for your friends. Chad, was it? Just keep an eye on things and help Tawny and Luna with anything they need for a few minutes.” With that he wandered off into the brush nearby and vanished.
“Don’t mind that fool, he’s off looking for something, he’ll be back shortly.” The formidable, one eyed woman said calmly. “The rest of you lot can help me cool down and groom the horses, we had a bit of a run to get here.”
The horses were fine, barely sweaty and cropping the lush, green grass placidly. It was the discipline of horseman’s work that was needed.
While they curried, cleaned and worked, they hardly noticed the strains of wild, gentle music rising from the nearby brambles and scrub. Likewise they failed to notice the tall plume of steam, rising from the wildlands off the road.
When the madman reappeared he had a wide, insane grin on his face. “You guys are sure lucky, there’s a hot spring and an abandoned house just over there…” He announced with a grin.
“Who wants a bath?” He asked, with singing, chirping birds still perched on his guitar’s headstock.
#
With a few strokes of a very effective warshovel, the strange kid cleared a few brambles and a small bush away, revealing a narrow, but very well maintained trail.
Within minutes, they had gently carried the injured just a few yards, to a small house in the wilderness. The wounded were hauled away to a back area of the immaculate, but completely abandoned home by the rescue party, who had as yet, hardly acknowledged the furious baron.
The madman remained with Orlando, who was still compulsively grooming and apologizing to the horses and crying.
“It’s ok buddy, Cricket is fine… so is Peony… the horses are fine. Come with me, we will put them in a nice clean stable and rest, everyone will be ok brother.”
His singsong accent and gentle words slowly pulled Orlando along, as Annie shoved the poor man down the short trail with her chest.
The man tucked Orlando under his arm and hauled him away to the same back area that the injured had been taken to.
Baron Timarch Holloman sat alone and untended, save for Kenny, who was still sullen, in defiance of explicit orders.
“Kenny, you are very fortunate there is a peer of the realm present, or I would beat you again… ungrateful wretch. Now find me something to eat in this pigsty.”
Even as he spoke, a small loaf of bread landed on a plate in front of him. It had been split open and stuffed with a sausage and a pile of sweet smelling, pickled vegetables. A mug of tea landed moments later, delivered by the smiling idiot from before.
“Forgive our humble fare, my lord… I hope our meager supplies will do, until we reach Wheatford tomorrow morning” He sang in a soft, lyric accent that the well traveled lord had never heard before.
“This will do, begone.” He barked at the idiot, waving his hands to shoo him away.
“Very good my lord… I will prepare a chamber for you, that you might rest and recover from this trial.”
“Yes, do that… Kenny, mark this fellow, he seems to know something of service… mark him well.” The sour faced, handsome lord turned back to lady Tawny’s fool servant with a smile.
“Any lessons or training you can hammer into this clod during this unfortunate delay will perhaps save him from another beating.” Timarch snapped, waving at his servant to follow Tawny’s man.
The rustic sandwich was rather satisfying, while the tea was extraordinary. Fresh, sweet, delicious and fragrant, it was sweetened with plenty of excellent honey and wonderfully hot.
Timarch Holloman leaned back in exhaustion and sighed. Travel was such a trial.
#
“Your boss is a real piece of work…” Gary grumbled at the young fellow, once they were out of sight, in the empty, abandoned kitchen.
“Take a load off, I’ll get dinner together. I think you’ve done enough today.” Gary said, bustling about in the empty place like he owned it.
“Kenny right? I’m Gary, my friends are Tawny, Liam and Luna we’re a detachment of Adventurers from Wheatford… you ok?”
Gary’s happy chatter ground to a halt when he noticed the boy’s rigid posture and careful movements.
“Did it get a piece of you? Whatever it was, it’s venomous, so let me see.”
The bigger man browbeat the slim, battered teenager into shamefacedly removing his shirt, revealing a nest of bruises and red welts covering his back and buttocks, halfway down to his thighs.
“Come with me boy.” The bigger man growled and seemed to grow larger, suddenly a terrifying figure of menace, rather than a jolly, inconsequential fool. He took the skinny fifteen year old by the arm and dragged him, still shirtless down the passage to the same darkened rear area.
“One more Tawny… with another coming if he doesn’t watch his step.” His terrifying captor snarled as Kenny was dragged out into the light.
“I wondered why lord shitstain had a riding crop in a carriage.” The monster grumbled as Kenny was brusquely stripped of every stitch of clothing and dragged into a beautiful, dreamlike bath.
“Gary.” Lady Trelawny Belen snapped at her servant sharply.
“Shai and Becky are not with us, you will need to control yourself, starting with that aura of doom you are emitting. Shamefully bad manners, look what you are doing to your guest…”
Gary looked down at the trembling wreck in his arms, pale and shaking with fear.
“Oh… sorry buddy…” He said so gently he could barely be heard. In an instant, the jolly fool was back; mild mannered and foolishly happy.
“Take it easy, rest in the bath… Tawny will take good care of you.” He whispered, setting the limp boy adrift on the hot mineral scented water.
“Thanks, Tawny… I need those reminders, sometimes. Where’s Liam?” He asked, still speaking and moving gently to avoid spooking the unfortunate Kenny.
“Debriefing the others… They say it was a trapjaw ant, but this venom is unusual. We should investigate before we leave… Can I trust you with that?” She asked, giving him a questioning eyebrow raise.
“I’ll bring Annie and Luna.” He answered, correctly it seemed.
“Good boy. Now go, I don’t want you and Timarch crossing paths unnecessarily. He is exactly what you think he is… perhaps a little more and also a little less.”
Gary swam over to where Orlando was floating, looking haggard, but better.
“Hey bro, come along and show me where you fought that ant… we can visit the horsies too.”
He gently dragged the shaken man to the side and led him away to the stable around back. “See, everybody is fine, so is Cricket. She will be waiting for you, my family will make sure she is as fit and happy as can be.”
All the horses followed along placidly, including Cricket’s boyfriend, Harmon the stallion. Orlando hugged and nuzzled all of them with a tragic enthusiasm, considering his ‘curse’.
Orlando led them just a few hundred yards from where the carriage was parked, to a meadow that was very familiar.
“Aww, dang…” He grumbled. “Sorry, this is kinda my fault…”
The pleasant, roadside meadow had everything you could want, a spring fed brook, level, smooth ground and a surround of mature trees to cut the mountain winds and provide shelter.
It also had a wide, perfectly circular expanse of rich, black soil that was so fertile, even a simple trapjaw ant plant could grow to prodigious size and develop new abilities… like thorny whip tendrils, blossom tentacles, spike maces and venom spines.
“Now that is nasty…” Gary mumbled in horror.
#