Ch: 78 Obligatory Fungi Fun-Guy Pun

A chill ran up Shai’s spine as evening fell. Her boy was up to something… unpleasant again. That streak of cold and alien… something was active in him again, sending her into creeping shudders and goosebumps.

“Fie, I dinnae relish this night, wi that man in our home and that boy of mine away and up to nothing wholesome nor pleasant.” She shuddered again, as Becky hugged her.

“Gary will be fine, big sister. Focus on the here and now, that is a super gross feeling…” Becky shook off the sensation with visible effort.

Amy and Wilford were on the rug by the fire, playing.

“Some dead things are bad… most just want to be alive again, I think that’s nice. Being alive is better.” Amy said happily, while Wilford nodded.

“Let’s go upstairs kids, we have company coming, strangers. Maybe we will meet them in the morning…” As Becky led the kids upstairs, Tawny removed her veil with a sad smile.

“We have an unpleasant duty to perform. Let us discharge it with dignity and grace. Failing that, I outrank the little shit.” Tawny gasped, and brought her fingertips to her lips in a now familiar expression of mortification.

“Gary is a terrible influence on all of us… well except Liam.”

“And Tallum, I’d been stalking that oaf for months until that giant ape showed up.” Ivy called from the kitchen. “Here they come.”

Pedro Nazar rode at the head, muddy and tired but smiling, with his helm hung on his saddle pommel. “Greetings… lady Belen. We request succor and hospitality, we have an ill companion.” He bowed gracefully once dismounted.

“Lord Brennan Fallon is unwell and humbly begs your aid. Sadly, he is too debilitated to address your august personage, please forgive this slight on your dignity.”

Nazar laid it on, loud and thick, going heavy on the rank disparity and name checking her notable ancestors in detail. Muffled noises from the rearmost of the two small baggage carts made the teamsters grin.

The glib veteran ran out of honors to heap on Tawny, while deprecating his superior at long last, ending on; “...unworthy and benighted by poor health and a weakened constitution, we beg you to tend this trembling wretch.”

“Dana, blessed Healer is benevolent and wise, even the worms that till the soil are worthy of her mercy.” Tawny intoned dramatically, delighted by this turn of events. If Brennan’s wracking cough and wheezing breaths were any guide, he was unlikely to be troublesome for at least a day.

As they negotiated, fat wet drops of warm spring rain began to slap the new made causeway and stipple the water’s surface. Fun was fun, but it was time to get them in from the cold. Shai still looked like she had a mouthful of salt on her tongue as they unloaded the blanket wrapped, coughing lord.

“Barron heir Brennan Fallon, I Trelawny Belen, ducal heir to your lawful liege, extend my hospitality to your party, enter and be welcome on my word.” Her voice rang like a golden bell resonant with confident authority.

“Only in the public pool Tawny, Gary kinnae abide him an he were last in the family pool.” Shai whispered.

“He is a creature of privilege and rank, I suggest you conceal that area’s nature with some of your tricks. Our hirsute and aquatic guests might appreciate… a special accommodation.” She remarked, smiling slyly.

“Wilford an Amy did look on those mud slips wi envy…” She wandered off, distracted by whatever the poor dear did to rearrange Gary’s crazy house.

“That should keep them distracted. Dannyl, will you please play the part of his groom, until we can set him on his way? I will find some way to make it up to you.” Her distaste was evident as she asked her friend to serve a loathsome man. The young artist just smiled and nodded his ginger head happily.

“Dannyl, he is not from Wheatford, he may believe he can take liberties. He may not. For the duration of his stay consider yourself my property, protect your person as you would protect me.” Tawny’s face and rigid body said she was absolutely mortified, but resolute. “He has a reputation…”

“Gary will make it up to me when he gets back. This guy is in for a rough time and I plan to watch the show from a front row seat…” Dannyl’s smile was wide and bright, even eager.

“There is a tradition in the low quarters, we never had a name for it, but Gary calls it ‘Malicious Compliance’. I think that it’s time to practice that art.” His smile hardened into a cold grin. “I say who takes liberties with me. If he tries he will get a sharp lesson. Go, tend your patient, tell me when you need me. I will handle his baggage.” Dannyl strutted off, confident and whistling something strange.

Ohh the times, they are

a-chaaangin…

He sang quietly to himself, as he joined the warriors in the barn unloading their effects.

#

Sundown caught Gary still doing… whatever that creepy shit was. The troop began shifting, preparing to set a camp, when he broke his odd meditative pose and smiled at the mushroom creature.

“Let’s get our companions settled in and then we will make introductions.” He said soberly. “This is going to be tough on a few of them.”

His viola swelled to life, moaning in time with the rising wind in the boughs. Liam held a hand out near his friend, then stepped back holding a guitar. He settled on a stump and began playing a simple swaying rhythm.

“Don’t worry about a camp, we have that covered.” The big musician chanted, until he began to sing in a low sonorous drone.

Lo! 'tis a gala night

Within the lonesome latter years!

An angel throng, bewinged, bedight

In veils, and drowned in tears,

Sit in a theatre, to see

A play of hopes and fears,

While the orchestra breathes fitfully

The music of the spheres.

He carried on, sweeping in wide leaping steps from the waterside to the edge of the meadow, drawing their gaze to his bizarre antics.

It writhes!—it writhes!—with mortal pangs

The mimes become its food,

And the angels sob at vermin fangs

In human gore imbued.

Out—out are the lights—out all!

And, over each quivering form,

The curtain, a funeral pall,

Comes down with the rush of a storm,

And the angels, all pallid and wan,

Uprising, unveiling, affirm

That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"

And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

The pair let the macabre song end, drifting off into silence expectantly.

“Yup, he said it all. Big love to my man Edgar Allan Poe.” The madman said, as he opened the door to a charming roundhouse at the upper end of the meadow. “Rain coming, lets get inside…”

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The musician stopped in the doorway and glared at the company outside. “Brennan Fallon just entered my home. Is that why you dragged me out here?” He asked the knot of friends containing Liam, Otho and Khan.

They shifted awkwardly as the rain began to fall, until he grumbled and stood aside. “Inside… sneaky jerks. That guy better mind his manners with my family. I’m feeling stabby.”

Khan draped an arm around his shoulder and dragged the younger man inside with the rest. “I left my ladies there too Gary. Luna and Annie are with your family, as are the Stonesmiths.” He grumbled but went inside anyway, holding the door for the improbable mushroom to enter.

“So this is a human dwelling now…” Axio said, looking about with his blazing azure eyes. He tipped his mushroom cap and looked the mortals over with interest.

“Living flesh… I so rarely savor this essence.” The diminutive entity bowed clumsy and cheerful greetings to the gathered mortals.

“I have stood watch over so many of you over the endless eons… I hardly know where to begin with living examples. Do you still have names? I am called Axio, Gary says you will have trouble with my true name, he is very odd even for what he is, is he not? Do tell, I wish your names and stories, I shall enjoy watching over your graves when the time comes, rest assured I will ensure your rest, until your constituents are ready to rejoin the grand dance of life and death, stillness and breath…”

He ambled closer to Runningtree, Rootedbear and Larksong, still chattering on like a river, surging in spring flood. Words tumbled from the gaping jaw of that hideous, jolly mushroom skull in a fierce torrent.

“Dear me, I do go on. I can’t seem to find a stopping point, comes from waiting ever so long. Far too long if I’m honest, this thing inside me pushing to get out is barely controllable at this point. I fear this meadow may never be the same after I leave. By all the benevolent gods, I cant seem to stop talking right now it’s like I have some kind of irresistible urge to get it all out…”

Rootedbear shook his massive head, smiled and reached down to enfold the tiny figure in an enormous hug, silencing its clattering jaw at last.

The stubby arms wrapped around the giant, clinging like a baby sloth to him as he stood and walked to the kitchen.

“Too hungry to talk, first let’s eat.” The giant said calmly, as he started working on dinner.

#

The ducal heiress of Wheatford and daughter of his liege lord stripped him, scrubbed him with a soft sponge and tucked him into a strange room filled with fungal growth, moss and steam.

Being tended to, so intimately by the most beautiful woman of her generation would be a fantasy for many. The reality of her cold and crisp professionalism went through him like a dose of salts.

She bustled away, leaving him in the dim, comfortable steam alone, among the stones, moss and glowing mushrooms. A few minutes later a beautiful young red haired man entered and bowed gracefully.

“I am Dannyl, I will be your groom during your stay with us. Lady Trelawny assigned me to you personally, so please come to me with any needs or requests.”

He made another impeccable courtesy and retired to the dry corner of the chamber, near the door. He settled into a comfy chair beside a small fireplace and began to softly strum a guitar.

When Brennan awoke, the young man had a tray and a dining table set by the door. “Lady Trelawny advises that you rise and eat, the spices and sitting upright will aid your lung’s recovery.” He said smoothly, uncovering the tray.

A spicy aroma wafted through the room, carried by the swirling steam. The young man helped him into a warm green flannel robe and seated him before a bowl of dark yellow stew over rice.

“Swan curry, a dish from a far off land, renowned for its medicinal properties. After that, a tincture of duskmoon pollen in a rare spirit, to ensure slumber. Physician’s orders, my lord.”

“Where is the master of this house? I would meet my host.” Brennan wheezed, through a raw throat.

“He is away on guild business, journeyman Shai is serving other guests, please do remember that Lady Trelawny Helene Belen is your hostess. Your lordship is in her care and thus, her guest. She was quite specific on that point.” Dannyl said calmly.

“You are one of those Wheatford orphans, I remember you now. Where is that injured boy, I would speak with him. Gary was his name, bring him to me now.” He commanded as briskly as he could through clogged sinuses and a raw, parched throat.

“He is away, investigating a crime. Your lordsip’s request will be relayed as soon as possible.” The lad smoothly steered him back into the ‘curry’, it did smell good.

#

“I hae a cold storage box, enchanted wi strong craft in yer room master Nazar. All is ready.” Shai said soberly in the common room.

The war cultists lined up outside the officer’s door, each one handing him a small pouch with both hands and a bow. He took each with both hands and a bow, in a timeless, silent ritual.

He vanished inside, then emerged, looking much relieved, as though some burden had been lifted. Nazar and his troop settled into the bath with sighs of gratitude, relieved of the bitter cold and the burden of their lord’s presence.

Malus eased into the steamy waterfall and drifted in absolute luxury. “You kids have it all figured out.” He bubbled from within the torrent. “Stillbend, try this, it’s crazy! Right under the waterfall!”

The dour and silent blonde man cracked a wide grin and let a short laugh escape his lips. “Gods, I…” He fell silent as Luna entered the bath, choking off his words behind a hard expression.

She slipped from her robe and entered the pool in silence. Without pause, she slipped beneath the surface and swam over to where Malus and Stillbend floated, near the waterfall.

Luna popped to the surface and fixed the silent warrior with her single blue eye. “Do we have business, Stillbend? There is no bloodshed allowed in this house, but if need be we can go to the causeway. You can bleed there instead, if you wish to join your cousin in death.”

Her steady gaze from that one unblinking eye settled more duels than her spear ever would, but one never knew…

“Journeyman Killeen Maus, Luna, thank you. Hanel was my half brother…” He lowered his head in abject shame and misery. “My greatest regret is that I allowed him to do as much harm as he did before the end. I couldn't bear to report him, or end his actions myself. My shame is mine to bear alone.”

Stillbend rose and donned a robe in silence, retiring to the section of the common room equipped with cots and bunks for the full troop.

“Leave him be, Luna,” Malus said softly. “Serving under Brennan is hard on him, it makes him feel the weight of the ears he carries.”

Malus looked thoughtful for a moment. He turned to silent Bran, over in the corner. They met eyes for a moment and the big man nodded once.

“They are Hanel’s ears, you know. He filed a special request with the orphan’s league to carry them.” The squat brawler stroked his battered jaw. “I think he volunteers to serve under Brennan, hoping to redeem those ears of his. A dangerous man, with dangerous motives, let him find his own way through this bramble.”

“As you wish brother, I have no desire to spill men’s blood… usually.” She said crisply. “I see discipline has not fallen as far as rumor suggests, in Port Fallon.”

“Orphans, My dear Luna, show no mercy. We also remember the law and our duty. My troop was formed precisely to manage poor Brennan.” His smile was wide, friendly and as charmingly ugly as a happy bulldog.

“Don’t let on, but our records have been highly edited at the baron’s direction. Brennan believes us to be the dregs of Port Fallon.” He turned back to the giant in the corner. “Bran, what did you put in our file?” He asked with glee.

“Suspected arson and murder. I wrote a fanciful tale of banditry, almost proven but not quite. We seem to be terrible villains and thieves. Terrible… what you did to those sheep.” He tried to smile, but some faces don’t have the knack.

“Our whole troop comes off indenture this feast of War, we are handling this messy business as a favor to old lord Eglund.” Malus said dreamily.

“Jeng wants to start a vineyard, me and Bran, we have our eyes out for a nice plot of orchard land while we are on the road. Stillbend… well he has his own things to work through.”

#

Axio and Gary had a private bathtime, their combined auras left the mortals deeply insecure and uncomfortable. “The end of life will never be easy for mortals to face and I have a particular connection with humanity, having watched over so many of you.” He sighed happily.

“I may have expressed my eagerness to watch over their graves… that was a mis-step, I fear.”

“Yeah, that was creepy. My kids are going to love you though, we don’t judge in my house.” Gary soothed the fretful spirit. “Let’s go get to know them all.”

He helped the dumpy mushroom man into his psychedelic green robe and led him out into the common room.

“Guys, Axio is cool now, let's say hi, then we can talk over our results.” Gary sat back, playing along with Liam, while the spirit made his introductions.

His enchanted skull peered out from beneath a bulbous, asymmetrical ‘hat’ of a mushroom cap. Fungal gills and toothy formations made the illusion of scruffy hair, if one did not look too closely.

Limpid pools of purple and blue… something swirled in his eyesockets. His body was rounded and pudgy, while suggesting the skeletal in distressing ways.

“Think of him like a graveyard dryad… he is the spirit of the honored dead, who went to their graves knowing that they would be reformed into new life and new land by this spirit. It’s beautiful in a very profound way.” He smiled happily.

“My body became soil… ages ago on the other world, so maybe my perspective is skewed. Time magic is super messed up, I asked Ducky and he kept dodging the question.” He grinned while picking a complex passage on the banjo.

The life of a man, it is but a span;

Creatures of an hour-o

We are here to-day,

Tomorrow we're gone

We're cut down, like a flower-o…

“Gods man, how many horrid songs do you know?” Larksong called out from the corner.

“No song is horrid, just as no plant is a weed. Each is a healing herb in its time and place. And I know all the songs.” He announced primly. “Since we are all friends now, let’s talk about our findings. What was up at the dam?”

“Attempts were made to make this appear to be a natural beaver dam. Poor attempts, my kin do not use iron axes and the construction was pathetic.” Uggoth said with authority. “This was a human working, though too old for any scent to remain.”

“I concur.” Axio said from his seat by the fire. He bobbed his mushroom cap up and down confidently. “My spores are already spreading. I taste the iron in the tree stumps and fallen logs.”

“In the other area of investigation…” Gary began.

“Where? Tell us in detail…” Otho heckled. “Environmental factors are important!”

“Liam, wrestle that pipe away from those two old warlocks, they need what little wits they have remaining.” Khan demanded quietly.

“In the festering shit pit of human waste and detritus, we found a few things. Axio, the raw data please?” Gary handed things back to the fungus.

“The dam building group contained four males and two females, all adults in good health. Their diet seems consistent with the local populace. A few artifacts were recovered, I am unfamiliar with modern human artifice and cannot help there. Druid Gary?” Axio settled back into his seat and folded his hands across his lap expectantly.

“The artifacts the local worms dug up for me are here on the tray if anyone wants to look for themselves.” He indicated a tray by the bathroom door.

“A few iron bits, probably dropped from a pocket, a broken knife, discarded no doubt. It’s junk, a cheap bit of work knocked up by a new trained apprentice. Then we have a single winter glove.”

He held up the dingy leather thing. “In a stage play, we would find a monogram, track that to the matching glove on a suspicious character and that would be that…” He shook his head sadly. “This is a simple workman’s glove well made but common. That leads nowhere.” Gary headed to the loft, he leaned over the rail and smiled at the gathered friends.

“We learned way more than we ever expected, and now I have a better idea how this works. Dibs on the bed under the skylight, we head back at dawn. Axio, you’re my cuddle buddy tonight.”

In hindsight, bathing with and then sleeping cuddled up with a volatile spirit of life’s endings and beginnings would seem a stupid idea, for an entity struggling with that very intersection on his own personal journey. That cut both ways for the entirely too well matched buddies.

Gary woke with Axio in his arms, the dumpy mushroom man yawned and stretched happily. “Sleep as a mortal is invigorating. Plumeria did mention that being mobile and incarnate in this way was remarkable.”

He chattered on happily, while Becky, Amy and Wilford stood and stared.

“Shai is going to be pissed when she goes to bed. Look, you are already coming apart at the seams.” Becky jerked a thumb over her shoulder, pointing out into the garden.

The pool was surging and sloshing dangerously, filling its overflow and flooding onto the lawn a little. There was a bit of erosion going on, just a bit too much for comfort.

“Oh I should not be here at all. Oh dear, I’m leaving spores in your soul Gary that is untidy and ill mannered of me, I’m sorry!” Axio fretted and fussed adorably until Gary hugged him up.

“My soul gets a lot of traffic, it’s fine. Come meet Ducky and Thirp, then we can send you home. Maybe you will meet some other friends over the wall… you never know at my house. Amy! Wilford! New friend!”

The poor spirit got swept away and dragged around on a whirlwind tour.