Book 2: Dirt Diver’s Dance
Brother Love's Travelling Salvation Show Ch: 40
By the time Ace finished breakfast and was ready to move around again, only he and Mariah remained in the garden; the rest of the troop had vanished into the bath. He could hear them all, laughing, splashing and singing together, just over the hedges.
He considered the odd being and nodded to himself, somehow seeming to smile, behind his faceless armored mask of blue lacquered wood. “I think I like you weirdos, bug girl.”
“I’m not a bug! I’m the immortal dryad of the Wildfire Plum grove!” She crossed her arms and hovered there, her cheeks pooched out and lips pouting at him. He could see whiffs of smoke curling from the top of her fiery head, along with a few stray sparks and embers, as she glared at the blue wooden figure.
“Gary can get away with teasing the mighty and mocking the powerful, Ace… that is the Fool’s power, not yours.” She replied in a voice of roaring forest fires and wind.
“If you speak to princess Kree that way, she might just sting you a little.”
“All right, Mariah… It’s been a while since I interacted with people, aside from running a junk shop.” He mumbled awkwardly. “I never have been… social.”
“We’ll be gentle. Now come on, Becky and Kermal made pancakes, you already ate, but I’m starving.” She fluttered to the front door, trailing sparks and embers that faded and vanished before landing on the lawn, leaving not even a flake of ash or soot.
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“I’m gonna destroy those haunted musical instruments before we leave this place.” Gary was announcing firmly, when Ace and Mariah slipped through the door into the busy common room.
“Now that the moons can shine on this world, I don’t plan to let those filthy things exist any longer than necessary.”
Wilf nodded soberly. “After breakfast, papa. It’s the most important meal of the day.”
The family of weirdos hardly more than glanced at the tall, scrawny blue figure, as he entered and found a seat at the edge of the room. Conversation lulled momentarily, then resumed all around, as the merry group swallowed them up. He could see curiosity and pent up questions in their eyes…
“Heya, Ace.” The blonde mage, Ivy mumbled, as she sat down beside the blue creature, joined by the giant red haired man. “Mariah, want some syrup?” She held out a miniature ceramic pitcher, so the insect girl could flitter over and perch on her forearm.
The little pixie’s tongue shot out, nearly as long as the creature’s arm and dipped into the spout of the tiny teapot. She clung to the blonde’s wrist and hummed happily, as her wings idly fanned warm, faintly smoke scented breezes across the room.
“The family is planning on leaving this world this afternoon, Ace.” Ivy said firmly, once the little flaming moth was busily guzzling pure, sugary joy.
“They asked me to speak to you, since you and the other Garys… er, Garies? Anyway, you guys can’t seem to get along, so I’m going to be your liaison until we leave.” She smiled and patted the being’s slim blue shoulder.
“Each of you Garies are a unique and special pain in the ass, each of you.”
She carried on after that insult, as though she hadn’t said anything mean at all… “Many of us are interested in coming back at some point in the near future; but the count’s wife is going to murder him and the rest of us if we don’t get him home soon. We got a little bit misdirected.”
“Once my dungeon is open, by all means, come back…” He paused after a moment, as a thought struck him. “Your friend is going to want this body back... Isn’t he?”
“Consider it an extended loan.” The beautiful blonde mage sighed softly and smiled at her mad friend; over at the end of the table, feeding pancakes to his wife. He was laughing and smiling the way he once did, so long ago. Ivy’s smile roved up to her husband’s face, when his massive hand landed on her shoulder.
“My brother is overly generous, the soft headed, soft hearted fool. He won’t remind you of his kindness, or even consider the debt he’s owed…” Tallum, the enormous smith rumbled quietly.
“That’s my job.” Ivy agreed, as she locked a predatory gaze on the featureless blue mask and chuckled darkly.
“You can repay him in part, by telling us more about your dungeon and what all this means.”
#
Three musical instruments lay on the beach, inside a circle of salt drawn in the sand; shamisen, drum and flute. Hideous faces leered from the awful things, half alive and gibbering in despair and horror. They shifted expressions from agony, to misery, shame and fear when no one was looking for a moment.
The Fool and his red haired giantess were dancing slowly in a ring around the hideous objects on the beach, while their children played a sweet, lilting waltz for the pair.
“No no! Gary Ward!” Daisybelle insisted from Gandree’s lap. “King papa and the Necromancer made those! That’s revenge, pure and simple! Give give them to me and I’ll take them back to King papa.”
“Sorry, kiddo. These things have got to go.” Gary insisted over his wife’s pale shoulder, as they twirled and stepped to the music. “They won’t fester and linger anymore, just a nice clean ending.” Gary noted the furious look in the little goblin’s eyes, so he refrained from telling her about the whole reincarnation with a clean soul thing. She wasn’t in a mood for that info.
“Daze…” Gandree whispered in her ear, very gently. “He’s right, they are abominations. Whatever crimes those filthy creatures committed while they were alive, such evil should end, here and now. That’s what goddess SmilyFace would want.”
“Yeah…” She sighed softly. “SpiderBoobs and SmartyPants are whispering the same thing.”
She tipped her uniform shako and adjusted her jacket, as if preparing to receive the order to charge an emplaced foe; and order she planned to execute dutifully.
“Don’t let him deceive you, Daisybelle.” Amy called from behind her guitar. “We aren’t supposed to know, but my own papa did something very similar, not too long ago.” She shot a challenging glare at the suddenly very uncomfortable Fool dancing on the sand.
“He cursed a slave trader’s ghost into inhabiting a public toilet for ‘a thousand flushes’... Healer’s temple found out, there was a huge scandal and the whole family had to head for a town on the edge of the fringe, to lay low.”
“Now, Ames…” Gary complained at his little blue songbird. “That shitbag deserved way worse than he got… I only left town cause I’m the only one who can free him and the damn clerics wouldn’t leave me alone about it.”
Shai spun her Fool a few times to remind him what he was doing at the moment, to no avail; he was well and truly distracted.
“Never piss off a mad witch.” He smiled at some private thought and sighed.
“I left an exit for him; he just needs to accept receipt of a thousand deuces. Once he’s been shat on a thousand times by Mikkle and the other wrinkly old farts, then he will be released from the haunted toilet in the pensioners mensroom.” He smiled evilly at his gathered friends and family.
“So sayeth the mad witch of Wheatford.”
“That’s a good good spell!” Daisybelle muttered with a giggle. “I like the way your thinkin’ stuff works, uncle Gary Ward!”
“Your King papa did the same thing, darling.” Gary spoke softly, pitching his voice to carry through the crowd without shouting, as he danced.
“Those instruments are slowly decaying and will release them naturally in a few days, if we just leave them out on the shore. Even with careful conservation and preservative spells, they will be released within a century or two at most.” He smiled at her in a sad and desperate way that plucked at her heart. King papa looked that way sometimes; usually when he had to kill a foolish goblin man who challenged him.
“Maybe Daisybelle should look at that little mace?” Wilf suggested, between bars of sweet notes from his beloved flute. “That thing is interesting.”
“Mace?” Daisybelle growled low and slow. “Did you kill a goblin man holding a stone headed whomp?”
“I did.” Ivy answered from the porch, where she and Ace were emerging after a long conversation in the common room. “I took a jade headed mace from a goblin a week or two ago. If he was a friend of yours, he’s dead.”
“Let me see see, this whomp you’ve found.” She grumbled angrily.
Wilf rose and vanished into his house, emerging with a short jade headed, blackthorn shafted mace in his hand.
He offered it to the tiny girl, who snatched it up with a sob and gasp.
“It is… Juniella’s whomp.” She curled herself around the weapon and sat back in Gandree’s lap and began burrowing into his clothes.
Uncharacteristically, the usually giddy little being curled up inside Gandree’s coat and buttoned herself away inside, seeming much smaller than she usually appeared.
The dwarf whispered soft words and rocked her for a while, as the family slowly finished their interrupted ritual. “It’s ok, Daze… you can tell us about it when you’re ready.”
Only the short blonde lad heard her mumbled and sobbed answer, as he kept rocking and whispering to her while the music went on and on.
#
In her golden bower, Dana, goddess of Healing and lady of Life and Light snarled at her coterie of hangers on. “I feel it still… that bond has loosened, but not been cut. Filthy and vile witchery, contaminating my essence with its tainted life force and abominable Will!”
“Forgiveness, lady… I beg you!” Baba Yaga gasped at the feet of her mistress. “I cannot touch these arts… The creature is not one of mine, nor will it answer my call!”
The Ancient Witch of the Forest slumped entirely to the gleaming marble floor in a heap of black and green rags.
“The immortal Witch cannot break a spell cast by an ephemeral… man. This reflects poorly on your much vaunted powers, crone.” Caduceus grumbled sourly from the goddess’ right hand.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Be still, lord Physician… I shall give her another opportunity to prove herself worthy.” Dana hissed sweetly. “Do not appear before me again until you have a solution for this nightmare; otherwise, you are banished from my presence until called.”
As the goddess’ lips passed her verdict, Baba Yaga felt the floor beneath her vanish, casting her out of the divine presence, as one would the lowliest of servitors.
She fell into the darkness, plummeting to her own deep winter, frozen pine swamp at last. After a moment, the eternal Witch of the Forest picked herself up from the soggy and icy pine needles and climbed the steps onto the porch of her chicken legged hut. She had one clue, one lead that might guide her to the truth and an answer; a name found by chance.
“Ticklefoot.” She croaked hoarsely into the bitter winds of the frozen pine barrens.
#
“Every dungeon has a broad theme… and the dungeon lord can control how that theme is expressed, or with sufficient energy and Will, even change it.” Ace explained to the gathered listeners.
“This is the Swarm dungeon… All manner of swarming creatures are my thing. If it’s creepy, crawly, spins webs, bites or flies, I have access to it. A few voids over is the Plague dungeon, nice guy. He’s one of us, calls himself the Plague Doctor. The guy wears the whole outfit, bird mask and all.” Ace shrugged. “I’ve never seen him out of costume; but then, I never told him I was an octopus.”
“Back to your dungeon…” Ivy urged him, as a musical exorcism, followed by a jazz funeral took place on the beach nearby. “What does that really mean?”
“On each island level, I create an environment; labyrinths, jungles, caverns and smoldering volcanos… that kind of thing. I install traps, create goals and quests, all the things that go into managing a thrilling and challenging dungeon.” He smiled and held his hands out to encompass the world.
“I’m going to power it back on and send my endless swarms to scour all humanoid life from the surface.” He nodded smugly and looked out over the sea, lost in thought for a moment.
“Once I pull a quick apocalypse, I’ll be open for business next week!”
“Can we put that on hold for a while? That feels like an extreme option.” Ivy suggested mildly.
“Once I power up the dungeon, every living mortal will receive a warning and an opportunity to escape to their native plane… I’m not a monster.” He grumbled.
“Three days after the evacuation warning, my swarms will sweep across the land, sky and sea; any sentient remaining on this world will be devoured, sacrificed to my unborn deity.”
“What about the other octopus people?” Ivy asked very gently.
“Oh, mortal natives of this plane will be ignored entirely. They won’t even be able to perceive or interact with the monsters. Only a few sensitive souls might glimpse them from time to time.” He murmured wistfully, gazing out over the cerulean sea, where shorebirds wheeled in the sky.
“It’s for them, all of this.” Ace whispered after a few seconds of silence.
“My species hasn’t developed full agency and Will, we pretty much operate on race memory and instinct. We lack drive, ambition, curiosity and all the other things that make a species more than beasts.” He hung his armored head sadly and sighed.
“When the dungeon hatches, we’ll have a god of our own… to guide my people into the next phase of our evolution. I’m here to make sure the god is ours… not the light cult’s.”
“So that’s what they’re after…” Gary muttered, suddenly standing right beside them, watching as the kids cleaned up the remains in the salt circle. “How close is your god to hatching?”
“Can’t say.” Ace answered grimly. “I can say that any demon here on this world now; they won’t get out. They will feed my infant deity with their essence… and go screaming into the void.” He chuckled hoarsely in the bright morning sunshine.
“Only those who have a home plane will be offered escape, all the other ways will be shut.”
“Dude, that’s metal.” Dannyl muttered, as he joined the rapidly growing group. “If all the other ways will be shut, how will we get back here?”
“Those natural gateways will reopen, once my dungeon stabilizes…” Ace answered cheerfully. “Can’t do business if the shop is closed!”
#
Ghnash the goblin king rolled over in his vast, supernaturally comfy bed and found himself buried under a very pleasant pile of lissome goblin damsels. Each one clutched at him; cooing, pinching and stroking for his attention; despite the girls being completely wrecked and unable to act on their desires.
He slowly made his way through that jungle of green, clinging limbs, patting, kissing and caressing as he navigated his forest of trembling, eager flesh.
He escaped eventually, slipping free of a lingering kiss and embrace with Sabrina; who always managed to be the first and last to touch him, every morning and night.
“A number of your brothers are downstairs, waiting for you…” She whispered, when she was ready to let her king go free.
“They arrived by daylight, like savages; so I made them await your… Pleasure.” She cooed the last word in his ear, almost luring him back into reach of the pile of exhausted girls on the bed.
“I got ‘sponsitilities…” Ghash grumbled as he reluctantly headed down to meet his brothers.
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“Ah, his majesty graces the humble supplicants with his new, regal visage… Surely we are most blessed, of all his majesty's subjects.” Hermit whispered from high up in the rafters, hanging from the ceiling. The damn spider loved making fun of his title...
“Pitiful wretch! The most blessed of my subjects are still upstairs… royally fucked silly. You are not going to be joining their ranks, no matter how much you flatter me, spider boy.” Ghnash growled at the giant, hairy arachnid.
“Get down here, you’re making me nervous, brother.”
“Please, hermit. Rest assured that no one has a rolled up newspaper sufficient to the task of swatting you.” The Necromancer said with an abominable smirk on his face. He turned his unpleasantly cold and bitter smile on the goblin king and coughed dramatically.
“Your new face is ready for company but you still fall short! For pity’s sake Ghnash, set out a plate of juicy flies for your guest. Hospitality, man!”
“Flies, I’ve none… crypt lord. Perhaps you have something unwholesome and crawly in your pockets?” He demanded with a wink.
“I need to craft you a fetish to help contain your aura, brother. Your true nature is leaking out a little.”
The goblin spoke gently at the end, leaning close to his brother. “Look, your shadow grows vast bat wings and a tail, when your focus wanes.”
“Bother! That’s embarrassing… Sorry Ghnash, I think I need to get some exercise, I’ll go for a flight later…” He smiled at the goblin man and shook his head.
“Want me to buzz that human town by the lake? I could do my Smaugh impression and give them a little of the old dragon roar shake-up.”
“No no! Those longshanks are my friends and cause no trouble, leave them be, you great, scaly terror.” Ghnash swatted his much larger brother on his shoulder a few times to admonish him. “Bad enough to be the Necromancer, but a dragon too? You are the edgiest of edgelords, brother.”
“I really just want to tend my garden and graves in peace…” The tall, pale man complained at the outrageous little goblin.
“Enough foolishness, we have serious matters to discuss.” Judgment murmured calmly. “We can fool around later.” No one missed the longing gaze he set on the goblin king’s collection of musical instruments, hung on the walls or resting in stands all over the house.
“Business first, then a jam sesh.” The Star sighed unhappily.
“The cult is up to something… they transited a fleet of seven frigates into the prime world, crewed by normal mortals. I suspect they will be raiding for slaves very aggressively, now that their slug spawn are worthless.”
“So the man with the borrowed snake was successful?” Ghnash asked eagerly, bouncing on his toes and capering madly in glee.
“Yes, I feel the truth of it! The pontiff of light’s vast circle of minions shrinks, yet again…” The goblin chuckled with hideous joy, as he continued his deranged, savage victory dance. “Soon he’ll feel the noose tighten…”
“He already feels the pressure, brother.” Judgment complained. “Three additional ships sailed for the Swarm dungeon, no doubt hunting for the Lovers. They are making a desperate gamble and we have no way to warn him.”
The dour and sober face of Gary Ward stared impassively at his gathered kin. “This is desperately grave. They must not seize the Lovers, even if we must extract him by force… even if we must go further.”
“What are you suggesting, Judgment?” The Star demanded, his playful grin fading to an amused smile.
“I’m not suggesting anything, I’m saying it outright. Ghnash and the Plague Doctor are special cases, they can’t leave their dungeons for good and unavoidable reasons… All the others followed the consensus and evacuated, except him.” Judgment snapped angrily, his soft and lyric accent becoming harsh.
“He imperiled the entire war effort for his own whims, now just when victory is in sight, he’s gone missing and a flotilla of hunters is stalking him.”
“Speak plainly.” The Star’s amusement was gone now, replaced by a cold reserve.
“Very well.” The dour man snarled angrily at the small gathering of beings. “I say that myself, Hermit, Star and the Necromancer should depart for the Swarm and either safely extract the Lovers; or failing that, seize the dungeon from him by whatever means is necessary. Whatever we must do to prevent the cult obtaining its powers is Justified.”
“There we disagree!” Ghnash chittered angrily at the much larger and less green version of Gary Ward that called himself Judgment. “We have never raised our hands against each other without just cause!”
The goblin man turned his lambent glare on the rest of his brothers, scattered around the room.
“I’ve never met him, but if he refused to leave his dungeon, he must have a reason. He’s kept hidden and kept it safe all these decades, he deserves our trust.”
“I’ve met him.” Star said softly. “He’s odd and very private. Of the several meetings I’ve had with him over the centuries, he’s never worn the same face twice.” Star smiled at some memory as he spoke, his eyes twinkling with unrestrained merriment.
“Always the same person, but in a new body and a different name each time.”
“He may be unable to leave his domain and does not trust us enough to explain the why of it.” Ghnash grumbled at Judgment.
“Justify your own acts with feeble logic if you must, but don’t drag drag me, Star and Hermit into your nonsense! If you plot to murder one of our own without cause or consensus, scheme not under my roof!”
“Ghnash…” Hermit murmured gently from under the dining room table. “The cult is currently attempting to seize the Plague dungeon as we speak, this is no idle worry. If they should manage to grasp either, or worse yet… both dungeons…”
Hermit fell silent, contemplating an endless tide of diseased vermin pouring from the void, to devour and infect entire worlds.
“The Plague Doctor will be no easy prey…” Ghnash chuckled without mirth and let a hungry smile cross his lips. “And I’ll have you know, one of my daughters is currently visiting the Lovers with her new beau.”
The goblin king laughed and strolled over to pick out an instrument from his collection. He chose a sharkskin topped shamisen and ran a sweet storm of notes down the smooth, fretless fingerboard.
“My new goddess SmileyFace says Daisybell and Gandree Clansward are healthy, happy and full of surprises!”
“Goddess?!” Several of the gathered Gary Wards asked in unison, glaring at the goblin king with eerily similar faces, despite their different species and states of being.
“Yes, Goddess!” Ghnash crowed with glee and jumped up on his own dining room table to sermonize the gathering. “Goddess Cowl, lady Joy… Known as SmileyFace to my subjects; she is present, potent and her benign gaze lightens the hearts of her children! Weep with Joy at her profound blessings!”
The goblin king preached on and on for a little while, his instrument singing her praises in liquid runs of sweet, warbling notes. His music evoked thoughts of warm spring afternoons, cherry and almond blossoms drifting on the breeze as bells struck the hour on a distant hillside.
“Ghnash…” Star murmured gently after a while. “Are you... ok? You know gods aren’t real… Right?”
“Yes, Star… I’m all right and gods are real, brother. Just not where we are.” The goblin sighed happily, finally sagging down into a chair, still playing his shamisen.
“The gods exist, as do spirits, fae and others as well. Here in the distant realms, on the edge of things, the gods can’t see, touch or bless us… unless someone opens the door for them. I have been fortunate enough to meet with two gods so far, in my dreams.”
“Gods and goddesses?” Star asked gently. “Are you sure you haven’t been fooled by a tricksy demon?”
“No, no tricks! Gandree and Daisybelle brought me into the lights of SmileyFace, SmartyPants and SpiderBoobs… I hope to do the same for you tonight.” He grinned at them with absolute delight writ large across his green face.
“If your dreams are of a radiant and joyous face, or a sexy spider girl with enormous, pale milkers… Follow them and find what I have found, brother.”
He smiled benignly, seeming more at peace with the world and himself than anyone had a right to feel. He pulled open a cupboard near the hearth, revealing a few small statues or figurines… or perhaps, Idols.
One was a tall, lean, robed woman carved in pale green jadeite, wearing a white, almost featureless mask of bone, inlaid with tiny, perfect, red coral lips, turned up in a gentle smile.
Next came a tiny beautiful, marble boy, dressed in elegantly draping stone robes, touched with gilt here and there. Atop his head rested a haloed crown, suggesting artfully arranged ringlets of golden hair.
The last was a large, plush doll depicting a spider body, transitioning abruptly into the slim, white furred torso of a heroically endowed humanoid woman. One whose massive felt and fur boobies threatened to topple her forward, despite her spider abdomen’s concealed counterweight.
Ghnash giggled with delight and sighed at his brothers. “Hermit has been touched by SpiderBoobs already, but he’s too shy to admit it.”
“Whatever changed your face, it has broken your mind.” Wheel of Fortune declared with a sour grimace at the collected Idols.
“You are like Hermit and the others…” Ghnash sighed at his brother. “You remember nothing after riding home from the music shop, where we worked on the other world… We died there and flew off to our many and varied destinations and guises from that point… We all know this.” They all nodded, since they were each embers sparked from that short lived blazing failure of a life.
The goblin man had an intensity to his gaze, as he addressed the gathering at large. “I tell you now, my secret. I remember living again, on another world… after our old mundane home!”
Ghnash let that resonate for a moment, before he went on. “I remember walking in the sun, standing straight and tall, singing with my family in a world where music was magic and magic was real… My family…” He almost sobbed there, before regaining his composure.
“Gods dwelt there and I met them, many of them… I tell you this now, too… Some few of you gathered here have met a god as well.”
Several Garies scoffed or expressed disbelief in other ways, depending on their biology; but almost all generally displayed incredulity at the goblin’s wild claim. He just grinned at them with a mad glint in his eyes.
“The man with the borrowed snake… Many of us have met him, but have any of you seen his face? Heard his voice undisguised?”
A quiet susurrus passed among the several, disparate beings gathered in the common room.
“By common consensus we have not delved into that person’s identity.” Judgment snapped coldly at the smiling goblin. “What they can do makes them too valuable to trifle with. We agreed to maintain their anonymity when we struck our alliance, Temperance.”
“My name is Ghnash Wharr’gh, the goblin king… brother. Remember that henceforth.” He snarled, baring his white, even, but still very sharp new teeth at the larger man.
“I broke no compact, I have always known who he is, since he first appeared. He is Ward, god of Death and Vengeance, dryad of the Golden Fig. He is one of us; more than that… He’s the Moon. His borrowed snake has the power to slay the immortal…”
Ghnash slowly let his proud, sad smile wash over the entire room of strange beings, savoring this moment.
“And that snake belongs to my beloved, firstborn son, Wilford Brimley Ward.”
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