Ch: 183 Let Me Ride
Over the week, several contracts came in, all of which were quickly taken and completed by the Ascots, often with members of Ginger Dreadnought accompanying… never Gary or Shai though.
“It’s starting to feel like someone is trying to keep us in town… mostly me, I think.” He complained over lunch on day four since the wedding.
“The others aren’t very good about harvesting their kills. I need a fistful of ingredients that are not going to just appear. Wallowbear knuckles, assorted monster teeth and several pints of monster tallow, mostly I wanna be on the road again… with so many nobs in town I’m feeling eyes on us all the time now. Sneaking spies.”
“If you are so eager for work, I have something for you.” Tony called from the doorway. He changed his boots for slippers and grinned happily.
“No armor? Is this a social call?” Gary asked, eying his simple Order robes.
“Gary, you are under penance from Healer. I cannot bear arms when serving her temple; this is most assuredly not a social call.” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “Fortunately, the victim of your shall we say, mildly provoked attack, has declined to charge you, so that is nice. Healer is quite wroth, however; she demands service as your penance.”
“A job? From the goddess?” Gary asked, looking interested at least.
“No, a job from Naiomi, which the goddess will allow to serve as your penance.” Tony spoke very carefully, clipping his words out with precise and even tones. Maximum clarity.
“There is a pond, the place where the cult encamped during your recent… excursion. The locals call it ‘drowning pond’. Since returning from that site, several of the troopers have complained of haunts and boggarts. It also seems to be a noxious bog of unpleasant vermin and disease, so that works out for everyone.”
“Haunts and boggarts? Sounds like my kind of action… what’s the catch?” He asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“No catch, just that the duke and a few guests will be along to observe your methods and activities.” Tony said with a grin.
Watching Gary die inside just a little was a treasured memory that Tony would cherish for years to come.
“Oh yeah, that felt amazing.” The big knight whispered over the crestfallen youngster. “Can I tell you about the noble observers again, please?”
“You suck, Tony.” Gary complained, but his inner showman was kicking his heels in delight. “Gods damn it’s complicated being me. If your superfans wanna follow the band there’s a few ground rules: First, no groupies on the bus unless they’re there to talk magic, music or chess… and I don’t play chess.”
“What’s chess?” Tony asked, in the face of a tempest of nonsense.
“Next! You guys gotta keep up, I’m not taking a week for an overnight job because princess pissy pants can’t get up before noon.” Gary steamrolled the big knight without hesitation. The poor guy never saw it coming, cause he didn’t know what a steamroller was.
“Next! Nobody comes after my kids. No interrogations, no questions. My kids are off limits.” He finished on that one, with a finger waggle and everything.
“Gary, many nobles on the council are upset that duchess Sheng and the lady er… Duchess Jaspreet’s wedding party have been given such prolonged, unfettered access to your…” Tony ground to a halt at Gary’s cold, immobile face.
“They are my friends, you are my friend. The others are what? A penance from Healer. They need to leave my kids alone.” Gary grinned a moment later. “Tell me about the haunts. Apparitions? Moving objects?”
“The affected troopers complain of strange, sourceless noises and half-seen shadows. Spiritual examination found no trace of active haunts, just residue from some spiritual exposure.” Tony sipped his tea while Gary chewed that over.
“Sounds like they just got the heebie jeebies from whatever is haunting that place. Maybe some leftovers from whatever the ballsy briar bush was doing out there. Did War’s ‘investigators’ find anything besides pests and spooks?”
“Yeah…” Tony shifted awkwardly and plucked at his robe. “They found out some stuff… nothing new, interesting or useful, but they tried hard.”
“So they trampled all over the site and got bugs in their hair, brought home a mild case of head lice and ghost scabies…” Gary demanded, he paused until Tony shrugged helplessly.
“Now I’m supposed to clean up the mess and drain some bog as penance for kicking the crap out of that dude. With a bunch of nobs looking over my shoulder and bitching about the accommodations?”
“Gary, you really took all the fun out of this for me.” Tony complained. “Can I please tell you from the start again?”
“Sure buddy… you earned it.” He said with a smile.
Gary performed a marvelous tantrum, complete with nonsense references to things no one could possibly understand, before collapsing on the sofa by the fire, abjectly broken in spirit and will.
Whatever a ‘three hour tour’ was, Gary seemed unwilling to be anyone’s ‘Gilligan’ but Shai’s. He was adamant on that point even though:
“...she won’t wear the costume, spank me with the hat, or even call me little buddy!”
“Ok, that was a bit much, now I feel like a heel.” Tony griped, flopping down beside him. That left Gary wedged into the sofa arm, as the giant took up the rest.
“Are you coming on this little carnival? If so we can workshop this act and strike the right balance. It’s got to be our comic timing… you can come up some night and watch a few Abbot and Costello flicks.” He buzzed with that strange, manic energy he displayed from time to time.
“Sadly, my duties require that I stay in town.” Tony said with a smile. My wife Adele would like to accompany you, however.”
“Pleased to have her along. She’ll be my guest.” Gary sang happily, as he wriggled out of the sofa to join Shai in the kitchen. “Shai, we got a job…”
#
Jerry had picked up some things at a second hand shop, so he wasn’t forced to wear the heavy winter robe in the warm spring weather. He was still nearly broke, unarmed and unarmored in a strange town with no prospects. He rolled out of bed, dressed himself and opened his door, directly into a fair sized wooden crate.
Some fool had dropped off something in just such a way that he had to crawl out the barely opened door, over the crate to get out and move it aside.
Furious, he looked at the offending box in growing confusion. It was a well made travel trunk, not fancy, but sturdy. Bound with iron straps and boasting a stout internal lock, the key was dangling from one of the handgrips, along with a small note.
One side held a short missive of some kind, he would need to find a reader for that. The other side had a pictogram puzzle in four parts. Four cells with a cute ink drawing in each. One featured the lobster, in chubby cartoonish form, standing in victory over presumably, his own slumped form.
The next had the lobster, being berated by some radiant female figure.
The third depicted a workshop of some kind, with the silly lobster hard at work, while the final image was a puzzle all its own. It was simply the lobster man, bent over, facing away, with his armored pants down, playing a lively tattoo on his own bare buttcheeks.
With a grunt of surprise and mild annoyance, he plucked the keys and label off and dragged the thing into his room. The lock opened with a well oiled click, and the startlingly heavy lid lifted to show a full suit of light armor, crafted in some wooden laminate substance and well knitted and woven spider silk. Strapped to the lid were a pair of steel and brass scimitars, unadorned, but very fine work at a glance.
Below the armor, three changes of common clothing and a nice set of formal silks were packed neatly with a pair each of boots, sandals and slippers. A small leather case on the weapon belt held some of those violet wax squares the locals were mad for. The little case was decorated with a small brass cartouche of some sort, probably a maker’s mark. All in all it was a far finer apology than he felt he deserved, but that was also fine.
“The gods and spirits give and take at their will and whim.” He muttered happily, while stowing his haul.
He inquired for a reader at the desk, most orphanages had at least one or two on staff. The old man just pointed at a random boy walking by. “Seth, ye learnt yer letters. Read this brother’s note.”
“Umm…” The boy muttered softly, turning the little card over and over. “It says, ‘sorry for kiike— kicking your ass…’ It says ass a lot, should I be reading this?”
“Bahh! I get the gist of it boy. Thank you for your diligent study.” Jerry slipped the lad an iron bit from his very slim purse.
“Thanks mister!” The boy chirped, drawing out a chubby little pouch of his own, no doubt filled with the trinkets of childhood… The iron bit landed among its brothers and copper sisters with a friendly tinkle.
With a sigh Jerry turned to the veteran. “Hamish, where can a man find honest work in this town?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“What’er yer skills lad?” The old timer asked, motioning him to a stool.
“I’m a fair light lancer, without a horse or lance. I thought myself a stealthy scout, but a couple unranked kids picked me up like I was waving a torch, then a shiny new iron ranker plowed me over like a failed wheat crop.” He sighed sadly. “My confidence is a little shaken.”
“I heared you ran intae Gary… go easy on the boy, he’s moon touched an something more too. If ye run too far afoul of him, sweet Shai or the high priestess will step in. He’s best avoided if ye ask me.” The old man chuckled softly.
“In truth, go see the Ginger Dreadnought Company across the river, near the bridge. They have wide ranging interests.”
#
In a small office under a stable, he met with a pretty young blonde who felt like a stalking panther disguised as a teenage girl and a tall, fetching, young ginger woman from a clan he was unfamiliar with… Her Adventure badge suggested that clan questions were best left for later.
“We kin use a wagon escort, tis dangerous times, brother... Such would be beneath thy skills an rank though.” She murmured softly, as though to avoid embarrassing him.
“Darling dear, I got my arse kicked, all my gear shattered an my contract closed in one night. Time tae kick off a new day… after a fair few nights sulking.” Jerry chimed happily.
“If you need gear, we can outfit you on an advance…” The little blonde began. He waved her off with a grin.
“I’m fair well kitted out, save for a mount and a few lances…” He said with a wink, at the two serious young women.
“We can give you a chit to draw a mount from War, we have an account… as for lances… Shai?” The little one looked up at the normal sized one and smiled.
“Fie, I’ll filch some frae the boy’s stores. I dinnae like back dealing him such, Ivy.” She grumbled.
“If ye are the ‘Sweet Shai’ who is responsible for that mad lobster, he dealt me fair this morning. I’ll bargain for a few yards of ash and a bit of steel with him.” Jerry stood and stretched long and hard.
“It’ll be good to be back in the saddle, sleeping rough.”
#
“I have no desire to perch a saddle nor ‘sleep rough’, dearest Mubsie. I will stay here, as is proper, while you go swan about in some filthy mire and contract something awful…” Jaspreet sniffed in feminine distaste, before gazing off into the distance winsomely.
“I will be forced to slowly nurse you back to health, as our class differences gradually fall away, under such forced intimacy. I, a lowly peasant girl, you a dashing and arrogant duke with the world at his fingertips. Can our impossible romance survive in this cruel world…?”
“Jazzy… Jazz, we were married less than a week ago… and stop reading my pornography without me!” Mubarak giggled in his wife’s ear.
They rose from the glorious forest fantasy bedroom for the last time, sighing regretfully at the enormous, pillowy, billowy bed. “I would buy that boy’s indenture, just to sleep in these linens every night for five years.” Abed murmured softly in her ear as they dressed.
“That is exactly what he has a problem with.” She answered gently, as he tried to steal her panties before she could don them. “You still can’t see it, but you will, my love. Then perhaps you will see your grandfather’s teachings in a new light as well. Wretched old Xerxes did a fine job on you, my beloved.”
“My grandfather has no part in all this madness. Cultists, demon eyes, genital summonings? I cannot credit this madness without proof.” He grumbled gently, while diligently striving to keep her as undressed as he could for as long as he could.
“I just put that on!” Jazzy groaned cheerfully as she bent to retrieve her flying bra. It was such an effort to connect all those tiny hooks and straps, but the things it made her bosoms do… Her wayward duke had figured out how to unhook the complex garment, with one hand and a bit of twiddling, curse all men.
Naturally, bending over was a tactical error. That same nimble, warm, perfectly manicured hand caressed her very gently and intimately, as they both enjoyed the silky fabric that barely covered her pert bottom. She stood and leaned back against his warm, strong body, savoring his touch as his arms wrapped around her. He lingered, holding his hands just below her navel and toying with the waistband of her blue silk panties.
“Wait a few weeks and your proof will begin showing, he’s growing just under your hands.” She whispered.
“I’m swimming in unexpectedly deep waters love… I need you to help me stay afloat…” He murmured into her hair, while nibbling on her neck. Slowly his hands climbed over her flat tummy, to cup her breasts gently.
“Speaking of floating… When can I expect to see these get bigger?” He demanded, with that supercilious ‘I’m the duke’ tone he used when trying to be seductively commanding.
“My great grandmother said that once the seed is set, men should be allowed nowhere near the sacred vessel, nor the fonts of life…” She whispered with a wicked grin he could feel from behind her.
She slipped from his grasp and danced to the far side of the bed, clutching her clothes close to hide all his favorite parts. “Since tradition and conservative values are so important to you, perhaps we should spend some time sleeping apart… only til the babe is walking, or talking…”
She slipped into her clothes with sensual shimmies and chaste twists and turns to hide her delicious secrets from his hungry gaze, while keeping up the cruel chatter.
“...Yes, I think you see the wisdom of it. Best you restrain your base animal urges, Mubsie, for the sake of long held tradition…”
“Woman, why is watching you get dressed while saying the most awful things so damnably sexy?” He asked, sprawled on the bed and enjoying the show immensely.
“What a thing to say to the mother of your child, I’m shocked and appalled!” She giggled, while bending over to scold him, also giving him a long look down her top, purely by accident. “You letch!” She gasped, before kissing him and skipping out the door.
#
War had cut a road to the site during their ‘investigation’, since their answer to everything was more spears and more stabbing. That made the little caravan of wagons and noble stuffed carriages only mildly punishing, as they rattled over the rough, new made track.
“I regret being talked into this already, Tawny.” Jaspreet murmured. “I had Mubsie nearly frothing at the bit this morning, a few days fermenting that and he would have…”
“Little ears duchess…” Angie scolded gently, above the three little angels asleep on their laps.
“In any case, the Wards promise that we will be safe and comfortable on this little jaunt. That is good enough for me.” Duchess Sheng murmured happily, enjoying the sweet, if repetitive choral music coming from all around the caravan.
Swing down *swing down*, sweet chariot, stop *I wanna ride* and let me ride *hell yeah*
Swing down *swing down*, sweet chariot, stop *I wanna ride* and let me ride *what everybody sayin'?*
So on and so on, why don't you let me roll on?
I remember back in the days,
when I used to have to get my stroll on.
Didn't nobody wanna speak.
Now everybody peepin' out they window,
When they hear me beatin' up the street!
Is it Dre? Is it Dre?
That's what they say, every single mother... day
Yo, but I ain't trippin', I'm just kickin' it
While my D's keep spinnin'
and these -ladies keep grinnin'...
“I gotta stop tryin’ to spit Dre’s bars… at least when the kids are listening.” He mumbled to himself, while the confused ladies of the caravan sang the chorus to a song none of them had ever heard before.
This Spring was kind to the rocky uplands above Wheatford, bringing plant life and colorful wildflowers out of every patch of dirt where life was possible. Mushrooms and fungi fruited and the small life all around was thriving, from butterflies to deer, flashing away through the brush at their approach. Even the tough oaks and manzanita seemed fresh and vibrant, thriving under the warm spring sun.
The caravan rattled to a stop on a low rise, overlooking a ragged clearing of hacked off and burnt brush. A few rude huts made of brush and wilted boughs sagged under the weight of their own decrepitude, showing that this was the right place.
The shady, murky pond was still there, as ominous as ever. Even from a hundred yards away, the air over the water was hazy with flying insects. The foamy green algae scum on top was even thicker, the rain had swelled the little pond into a spreading bog that covered a portion of the former camp as well. The aroma was stronger too… not foul yet, but fermenting and leaning toward rot and decay.
Gary slid down from his mount, the boy had actually ridden a horse, for a wonder. He patted Zach warmly on the big flat jaw muscle and slipped him a carrot. “Thanks buddy.”
He turned to address the group at large, still disembarking with the usual noble complaints and gripes.
“We are gonna camp here, there’s an easy trail down there and no real threats left in the area. I just don’t wanna have horses getting spooked while I’m working. Anybody that wants to watch from up here is welcome to.” He sang out, using the voice he called E=mc Gary.
“We’ll have a camp set up shortly, contemplate the beauty of springtime in the hills while we work.”
There were a lot of veteran warriors and Adventurers along for the ride. That made the set up of a mundane overnight camp relatively simple. Tents and pavilions sprouted quickly, the horses were made comfortable and left under the guidance of Annie and a few other familiars, all in all things went swimmingly on the low hilltop.
“Anyone who wants to get down in the action and really see what we do up close, follow me…” He turned to the three cranky brats, huddled around Shai, Adelia and Harlan.
“Kids, you gotta stay up here with Grandma. Papa Harlan, I assume you will be watching up close?”
“Aye, tis time I see what me beloved daughter has stepped in, ere she tracks it too far intae the house…” The giant smith grumbled good naturedly, receiving a gentle swat on each shoulder from the two formidable women in his life.
“Hush Harlan, or I won’t let you see what Jennah made for me, til your birth day…” Adelia whispered, with a saucy wink on the side. That seemed to settle the smith right down. The two women shared a look between each other, then at their menfolk and nodded sagely. These were potent weapons indeed, hidden beneath their simple outerwear.
Most of the men and a few of the more adventurous ladies followed the strange boy and his troupe of youngsters down the delightful trail, past more wild blooms and flitting butterflies than even such fine weather should account for. The lively spring energy demonstrated itself in a profusion of bunnies, gophers, hedgehogs and other small game, scurrying and hopping away as they approached.
A boisterous crowd of nobles, knights, clerics and important people walked in a loud, chattering mob down the hill and into an unpleasant clearing.
Stubs of hacked off brush, dusty, trampled earth and thick reeking ash covered most of the roughly oval ‘meadow’. What grasses and plants there were seemed to be the moist, reeking varieties that enjoyed low, damp bogs and mouldering fens… like the one in the lower quarter of the clearing.
Sickly willows leaned over the reeking pool, it gently bubbled and foamed in the center, while the edges seethed with mud creeping life. Gnats, midges and a few bold and courageous skeeters buzzed and flitted over the pond, menaced by patrolling damsel and dragonflies on the periphery of the swarm. Only a few of the beautiful, glinting predators feasted on the mingled swarm, too few.
“Ugh, yeah, there’s something in the water, not just a haunt…” Gary muttered as they approached. “I didn’t come down here last time, cause… War.” He glared at the numerous red robes and the large amount of blood red armor all around.
“What kind of knucklehead would camp near that?” He whispered to Liam. “Anybody can see it’s really nasty.”
The compact warrior shrugged his armored shoulders helplessly. “War has a complex relationship with Healer… that drives a lot of their choices, on both sides.” He whispered, being uniquely in a position to know.
“Yes, that’s obvious to me now.” Tawny added in as they walked. “Healer’s clerics cannot encamp close to War’s forces, nor can we embed our healers in the legion’s warbands. As a result, War seems to make these kinds of decisions, perhaps so that his adherents will come seeking us… Perhaps this explains much of the risk taking behavior we see in War cultists.”
“Wow, you and Thirp really need to hang out more… I didn’t pick up on that, but it makes so much sense…” Gary whispered.
The flat open space was… nasty. Enough of the flitting fliers made their way past the dragonfly blockade to make the clearing miserable, even if the blood drinkers and parasites were repelled by the charms on his scattered family and friends.
“Yeah, there’s a haunt or six in the pool.” The musician said loudly, when the gathering settled into a loose semicircle, describing the limits of his repellent charms. “That would be fine, but they stagnated and have started to go sour. That’s where ‘natural’ undead come from. In a decade or two, something would rise from this… a banshee I think.” He lectured happily, as the swarming bugs avoided him entirely, staying two dozen yards away.
“The haunts keep anything smarter than bugs away, so the blood suckers and creepy night crawling nibblers thrive here, that just makes things worse, cause they feed into the hungry, parasitic nature of undead ‘life’.” He held out a finger, for a giant dragonfly to alight. The enormous, bottle green insect twitched and buzzed happily on his finger for a second or two, before flitting away.
“Something in there is keeping the natural balance of life from sweeping the haunts away, something strange.” He grinned at the crowd of notables and warriors. “Something strange is right in my wheelhouse.”
#
Jerry had a healthy mount, a piebald named Feather, with a good attitude and a fine gait. With a sturdy, simple lance at his boot, fine blades slung on his belt and a well crafted, surprisingly comfy suit of strange, wooden armor, he felt pretty good. Wagon escort was no job for his skillset and well beneath his rank, but he needed to rebuild his reputation in the region.
The young apprentice teamster he was escorting was chatty and friendly, the roads were smooth and open with fine weather as far as the eye could see.
Trundling up the road to Hearndon town and back escorting a cart for those girls would not solve his money problems, but it would ease the ache in his hungry purse.
“So what are we hauling, lad? Seems like you hardly need a guard on these roads.” He asked, a few miles away from town.
“Mostly chocolate… some other sweets and confections and some private parcels for some locals.” Carlos urged Bigelow and Whitney on a little faster with a gentle twitch of the reins, as the clopping of donkey hooves rattled a little faster.
“I wanna camp in a meadow I know tonight, there’s a willow tree we like to sleep under.” He sighed happily. “Sleeping under the trees, by the water, it’s the best.”
“Good attitude kid, it’ll carry you far. I’ve seen six cities and gods alone know how many towns, I’m only twenty seven. Now I’ve experienced Wheatford, what more is out there, waiting to be seen?” He asked in wide wonder, contemplating the future as they rode.
#